I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or the characters.

Winds of Change

Change. Change was inevitable, Arya thought as she contemplated Eragon from the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. He was sitting on a crag overlooking a vast expanse of land, with people moving about their new lives. Eragon epitomized change. She had told herself this on many occasions. And it was true; Eragon's entire being was different from when they first met. He now had the features and abilities on an elf, he was hardened from war, and he had amassed a veritable amount of knowledge.

But she hated change. It was a product of being raised by elves. Elves as a race were resistant to change. It was ironic really; elves lived for so long that they were able to witness many changes during their lifespan. They had seen more change than almost any other species; yet, they resisted fiercely. Elves believed that change was a negative force and Arya was inclined to agree with them.

Striding towards Eragon in her graceful manner, Arya touched him gently on the shoulder before seating herself next to him. Eragon did not flinch or shy away from her hand, nor did his eyes change or cheeks tinge with embarrassment. He was no longer in love with her and Arya was curious as to what had changed. It seemed only yesterday that Eragon asked for her hand, wept over her rejection and waited for her acceptance.

They sat in silence, their legs dangling over the rocky incline, watching nature take its course. They no longer required conversation between them to keep awkward silences at bay like they once did. Arya had become comfortable with Eragon's presence and he with hers.

It was hard to remember when they had become so much at ease with each other. When they had first met, Eragon looked at her with adoration in his eyes, never seeing past her physical features. Their first conversations had been short and shallow. They were still in the process of sizing each other up. She had wanted to learn what kind of person he was, to learn why Saphira had chosen him to be her rider. He had wanted to know her past.

At first, she had not thought much of Eragon. He had a good heart, but proper morals don't always translate into success on a battlefield. His lack of an education and the fact that he was a human lowered her opinion of him. She was able to say now that she was ashamed of her early impressions of him.

"You are going to be cold Arya svit-kona," Eragon said when she shivered involuntarily. It was a fairly chilly morning and the rays of sunlight only provided a meager amount of heat. "It is no longer summer. The seasons have changed and the temperature along with them."

Arya wondered when his speech had become so smooth and eloquent. It was yet another change in Eragon. "It is of no matter. The day is still young; it will become warmer."

He nodded. There was no unnecessary fretting over her; Eragon had long since stopped being overprotective of her. It was different she supposed, that he didn't place her needs in front of his own anymore as he once did, despite the fact that she had repeatedly informed him that he was much more important than she was.

It was during the Agaetí Blӧdhren that Eragon had foolishly confessed his love for her and was subsequently rejected. At that time, he had been a mere nuisance with his childish infatuation. He had not really seen who she was, what she was. Eragon had only seen the façade she wore, the armor protecting her vulnerable soul.

Seeing his love for what it was, Arya spurned him, harshly. Only a clean break could become whole once again. She did not reciprocate his feelings during the celebration and she never thought twice about her refusal.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked Eragon. The war was over and their duties completed, for the time being at least.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I have not decided yet. I suppose I'll just go wherever the wind blows me."

Eragon was completely different compared to when they had first met. He had always been curious. What am I supposed to do? Where should I go? How long will I be gone? What are your plans for me? When will I return? Those had all been questions that Eragon frequently used. These were all posed to Ajihad when Eragon first arrived in Farther Dur, to Queen Islanzadí while he was in Ellesméra, to Oromis and Glaedr when they were his masters, and to Nasuada when she commanded him. He had always needed a sense of direction, but now he was different; he was living in the present and did not worry about the future.

"Do you see those people living down there?" Eragon asked her, pointing at the little clusters of bustling people. They looked so small from this height, like little ants scurrying every which way. Arya nodded. "Right now, they are living in individual clusters, caged into their own little communities. I hope that one day every community will be linked together, with people traveling freely from one town to the next."

Arya pondered his statement, rolling it through her mind like a ball. "Is that why you fought? The real reason? And not the duties that everyone had placed upon you?"

"Aye, I fought the Empire to take away the fear in the world. Fear has suffocated this world for too long. It causes neighbors to turn on neighbors, friends on friends and kin on kin. The world is full of individual communities, separated by fear. I hope that by winning the war, fear will be replaced by understanding and friendship." He pointed towards the colonies below. "I don't want to see the world as dots; I want to see it like a web."

Arya remained silent, placing this revelation of Eragon's character into a safe place in her mind. How he had changed from when he was just starting off on his journey. His motivations turned from revenge into something greater. Something she was unable to define. The best phrase that fit she thought was 'for the greater good'. But even that did not capture the essence of Eragon's motivation.

She remembered his adventure into Helgrind. His decision to remain inside enemy territory for a man who had betrayed his village should have infuriated her. The sheer stupidity of the act should have been unforgivable, even now. But it was not and Eragon had thrown her perceptions of him askance on that trip. Before, she considered Eragon a one-dimensional person. He was virtuous and courageous. He had a set purpose in life and never strayed far off his path.

Arya could now see another side of Eragon. Giving Sloan a second chance at life, it was too good for the man, too good considering his evil deeds. But Eragon had given him another chance, a chance to find his way in life. He had always been kind, this she knew. But he had shown himself to be fair and just as well. To be just required the ability to empathize with another's plight, to understand their circumstances, and to judge with equanimity; all of which he executed at a high level.

Arya had learned that Eragon was all of these things and more when they had the conversation by the campfire. She had revealed more of herself to Eragon that night than she had to anybody for a long time, and he had accepted her, comforted her. He did not press his undying love for her but gave her peace. It was mature of Eragon, more mature than she had considered him to be and it shamed her that she had ever thought lowly of Eragon. He had changed while she watched, but she never noticed until he ripped off the blindfold covering her eyes to the truth.

A flock of birds flew overhead in a V-formation as they made their way south. The bird at the tip of the formation dropped back to allow another bird to take charge and slowly fell behind the flock. It tried to keep up for a minute, but eventually gave up and went to recover on a nearby tree, while the flock disappeared from sight.

"Why did the bird stop flying?" Arya questioned, eyes riveted on the lone bird.

"She gave up." Eragon said simply. "She could not keep going and left the rest of the flock to go on ahead without her."

Arya felt a pang of sympathy for the wayward bird. "What will happen to her?"

Eragon's demeanor never changed. "She will most likely die once winter hits. That's why the birds are migrating; the seasons are changing." He held up a hand when Arya began to protest. "But if she finds the will to survive, she will fly again."

Arya herself had almost lost the will to fight, to survive; when she had fought against Varaug. If Eragon had not been there to help her, to give her a reason to fight back, she would have died in Varaug's icy grip. Her independence, which nobody had ever able to strip her of, abandoned her at that moment and she had needed Eragon to give her the strength to continue.

Of course, if anyone told her that at that precise moment that she would utterly rely upon Eragon, Arya would dismiss their notion as folly. It was only when she contemplated the experience afterwards as she often did that the truth came to her.

Arya picked a wilting flower off the ground near her. Its once-brilliantly colored petals were now drooping and gray. "I sometimes wish that summer never passed to autumn. It is a shame for so many beautiful flowers to lose their radiance." Her voice bridged the canyon of silence that emerged between them as the day wore on.

"Change is inevitable. Flowers are rooted in place and no matter how much they resist, the seasons will change and the flowers' time will end." Eragon shrugged nonchalantly; he was the harbinger of change itself. Everything he saw, touched, and thought about; they were subject to changes he brought. He was neither happy nor sad about changes brought on by uncontrollable forces.

She thought back to the final battle, when Eragon fought Galbatorix alone but for Saphira. She had been overcome with worry at first, then relief when Eragon emerged from the bloody castle relatively unharmed. It was completely unexpected when Arya very nearly collapsed on the ground in relief upon seeing Eragon victorious.

Never before had she been so distraught during a tense situation and she vowed to never allow it to happen again. She always prided herself on being able to watch harrowing situations unfold while remaining perfectly calm. But Arya had been anything but calm throughout that entire ordeal, though she would not care to admit that. It was an unfortunate change she thought, but it was forced on her nonetheless.

The sun was setting in the sky, an indication of how much time had passed. Arya glanced over at Eragon and she did not know what had changed, but her previous assumption was wrong. In the diminishing light, she could see in Eragon's eyes the love that was buried inside of their whirling depths. It had always been there Arya realized, but it was concealed now. It was much different than in previous years when Eragon announced his love for her on multiple occasions. Now it was more subdued, but equally as powerful.

Arya did not know what overcame her, but she placed her hand on top of Eragon's. It was her acceptance and approval of his change. He deliberated for a second and twisted his hand to hold hers, and Arya let go of a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Eragon's gesture was his acceptance of her changes—changes that had taken a very long time for her to notice at all.

Overhead, Arya thought she could see the lone bird fly off in the now darkened sky, starting her search for her lost flock. Perhaps change was not so bad after all.

Author's Note:

Just something I decided to write while on an airplane from Ireland back to the US. (In my opinion, Ireland is much too rainy :p).

The writing style in this story is different than in my other fictions. I usually drive a story along with a lot of dialogue, but most of this plot was driven by self-reflection instead. Seems my writing style changes every time I decide to write something, huh?

I'm sorry if the time switches got confusing. I was contemplating italicizing all the parts that take place in Arya's mind, but I decided against it.

It's probably my 'deepest' fiction I've written as of now. It was more of a story where the theme plays a bigger role than the story itself.

I hope you enjoyed reading it and please leave a review! :) Those are always nice.