Love Transcends Death

He was her past, and her future. But for them, fate forbade it. Now he was gone, taken from her grasp when Murtagh, with his last breath, shoved Zar'oc into the Blue Rider's heart. Bound to fate Murtagh could not resist the temptation, as a last act of sorrow he slit his own throat. As the Three riders: Black, Blue, and Red; they died together as the last dragon riders in Alagaësia. Their dragons dead long past and the Age of Rider's gone in a heartbeat.

Arya was happy with the peace restored to Alagaësia after the Final Confrontation, as the humans called it. But, her smile once bright and charming, now slight and fake. Her once beautiful laughter, reduced to a fraction of what it once was. Her heart was content with the fact Alagaësia was freed from its reign of terror, but it was in unbearable pain now that her forbidden love was dead. She never got to say it, always denying her heart; entirely selfless, she denied her core and gave in to the cries of the oppressed.

Consolations had little effect, as words such as "it will be okay" and "everything will be all right" were entirely redundant. Sometimes those bring about more pain than its purpose. Though, Nasuada's words had a larger effect.

Flashback

Arya was taking a long solitary walk along the borders of Ellesméra, contemplating the complexity of life, as elves often do. It was thus until she encountered Nasuada in a celebratory elven tunic.

The two broken-hearted women greeted each other in the traditional elfin way. Nasuada noticed the tear streaks upon the elf woman's face. "What troubles you, Arya Dróttningu?" Now, it is not wise to question an elf about their whims, especially this elf, but Arya looked completely lachrymose. Arya didn't seem to hear the question as she spaced out, staring at an overhanging branch. Frustrated, Nasuada attempted the same question, "Arya, the labyrinthine ways of fate cannot be judges by mortals or immortals. Now, is the reason for your wallowing the Shadeslayer and his dragon?" Still, she received no answer. "Arya," Nasuada said in a gentler tone, "Eragon has been dead for a month. It is time you pulled yourself together." Finally, she received a response from the aloof elf.

"What may or may not trouble is not part of your due concerns, Nasuada... Eragon's fate was predestined by whatever godly force exists; now I must leave your humble presence." At this, Arya turned away and began a long journey back toward Tiadalri Hall. Before Arya had escaped Lady Nasuada's form, the ebony colored woman called out, "Grieve no longer, älfa-kona. The past cannot be forgotten edited, erased, or changed. It can only be accepted." Quick as lightning, Arya spun around and stalked toward the courageous woman. Nasuada, startled, stumbled back a few steps.

"And what would YOU know, Nasuada. You do not know half the pain I've known and felt." Nasuada regained her composure, she replied angrily, "I understand you are woeful, but it would be best if you did not take it out on ME." Arya was startled, Nasuada hardly ever raised her voice, and certainly never against her. "I am not woeful, or grieving. I am lost in deep thought." Not a complete lie, instead a half-truth. "Do not try to confuse me Arya," Nasuada yelled, "I know better than most the pain you feel. My father, killed by Urgals. My people slaughtered by soldiers. Also, I have plenty more to cry about, but I remain steady."

Arya replied in a voice as cold as ice, "And what would that be, do you have a mother that doesn't seem to care for you. Have you lost a love?"

"I never knew my mother, and you take yours for granted. At least she talks to you. My mother didn't care at ALL." Arya was shocked. "And I have lost thousands of people close to me: Elva, Eragon, and my father, King Orrin, Jörmundur, King Hrothgar… and Murtagh." She finished in a voice so low even Arya's elfin ears had trouble hearing them. When she interpreted them she realized quickly that this woman had suffered more pain than even her. "How?" she asked.

"How what?" the ebony-colored woman replied.

"How is it you have suffered in more agony than I, yet you remain as collected as ever." Now this was a difficult question to answer. The two hurting women stared at each other until Arya began to walk away, "Exactly, you are not." Before she could turn away Nasuada grabbed her arm, she knew she was pushing her luck by doing so but she acted upon instinct. Finally, she replied, "It has taken me awhile, but I've learned letting go of the past is a good thing. It doesn't mean forgetting, it just means moving on."

End Flashback

Yes, Arya thought, those words helped me the most, without them I would likely have died of grief. So as she continued on making her tea she heard an oddly familiar voice say in the ancient language "Draumr kópa." She whirled around only to catch sight of her own mother, Islanzadi. "Mother? Why are you …" Quickly, she realized she was greeting the queen, and they repeated the traditional elven greeting.

"Now, I suppose you are wondering why I am here." Arya mentally rolled her eyes. "But, Eragon visited me on the eve of the conflict.' Arya stared, wide-eyed and anxious as of what her mother might tell her. "He gave me a memory in to which he would have liked you to treasure forever."

"May I see it?" Arya said anxiously.

"It is in your tea."

"WHAT?" Arya exclaimed. Islanzadi chuckled, which only further angered the princess.

"Calm yourself, I put a spell on the tea to show you the memory. Just say the word 'edur' to see it." With the final word, she walked out. Arya mumbled something about crazy elf witches and then she did as told.

Memory

"Arya Svit-kona, if you are seeing this I am most likely dead and peace has been restored." He smiled goofily at her. "I am to tell you that my love transcends death and hopefully yours does to, though I doubt you care for me other than an annoying friend." He said self-depreciatingly. There was a snort from the large sapphire dragon Arya had somehow not previously noticed. He patted his dragon's snout. "I am to tell you that if you did somehow love me, than your time would be better spent moving on and enjoying life to its fullest. Memories are nice, but that's all they are. Don't grieve unto the past, look to the future." He stopped to pat Saphira's jaw. "I know how easy it is to lose sight of what's important, especially in a land as large as this one. Though, if you keep searching you are sure to find what your heart desires… Goodbye Arya, my love, my life, my hope."

Present

Arya watched the memory over and over again, so much that her eyes began to sting. Carefully, setting aside the tea where it would not spoil or spill, she dressed in extravagant clothes and visited Eragon's former home, his tree. She went to the study, grabbed a sheet of parchment, ink and a pen. She wrote, Eragon, you are my love, and I will never forget you. Though, your words were correct. I will move on, after all. As only those who try will become.

Arya stood up and placed the parchment in a the fire place. "Brisingr!" she screamed. The paper and its contents were set alight. And somewhere, sometime she hoped Eragon had seen it in the afterlife that he believed in.