Truely, I didn't think I'd be publishing so soon. The inspiration just came , and I rode the wave. I hope this is as good as my last.
I present to you, Idiocy.
Frosted night air wafted through Eragon's tent, prickling at the rider's bare flesh. He was lying on his thin cot calmly, with his shirt off. It was the opportune moment to do so; what with the abrupt lack of tension after Dras-Leona fell swiftly to the Varden's iron fist.
Thorn and Murtaugh hadn't been there for the battle. There could be many reasons why they had not appeared to challenge the Varden. Many of those reasons did not raise Eragon's hopes, so he put them out of his mind for the moment. Saphira's draconic head rested comfortably next to Eragon's bedside. One of Eragon's arms hung from the bedside, resting on the boney crest of his soul-partner's snout. Eragon felt excessively troubled as his ponderings became more and more morose. He stroked her scaled muzzle and opened their bond, Saphira?
She stirred under his hand, Eragon? Saphira blinked the near-sleep from her eyes, feeling a small bit of irritation until she sampled the tenor of his thoughts. Little one, whatever is wrong?
He stared at the billowing of the tented ceiling for a few moments, before he confessed his musings to her. I...Saphira, I feel that I'm doomed to live alone.
Saphira could feel the cold of his thoughts deep in her belly. She nosed his offered hand gently. I will always stand by you, Eragon. You will never be alone
That's just it though, he continued, I-I don't know who will be there to stand with me after this war is finally over.
Saphira could feel the weight of the words in his mind. She snorted, Enough of this foolish thinking, Eragon. All of your friends will certainly be there to witness that glorious day when that oath-breaker's head rolls off his shoulders.
Eragon rubbed Saphira's muzzle with a small smile, and she hummed lightly, content with her lot. Though, it wasn't long before he felt uneasy again. His thoughts strayed into forbidden territory. Arya, He thought.
Saphira's contentment dissolved in moments. Eragon...
Her thought was one of warning, a plea and admonishment rolled into her unheard voice. Eragon started at her disapproval, but understood it completely. I'm sorry Saphira, I-I just can't help it. She permeates my mind, I'm...much more taken with her than I should be...
Don't think about what can't be moved. Emerald-eyes was quite clear the last time-
I know she was, Eragon forced out, cutting her off before the conversation could open old wounds. Saphira raised her head in surprise, looking at Eragon's prone from on the small cot. His eyes were shut tightly, his eyebrows dipping towards his nose. I...I know Saphira. Arya was clear as glass. A pained sigh issued from Eragon. I know, better than anyone, just how clear she was.
Saphira glimpsed flashes of the Menoa Tree, Arya, and a harrowing pain that accompanied those memories. I know she can't be moved on this matter, but neither can I.
Eragon laughed a pained laugh. I'm hopeless, Saphira. Forget kings, black magic, and impossible odds. They are but a small task compared to loving...and hurting from a distance.
There were two sharp raps against one of the many wooden rods holding his tent up, "Eragon?"
Saphira felt the sharp course of happiness through Eragon, accompanied by a sharp, thorny pain that seemed to twist and writhe inside him. Arya was outside. Little one…
I'll be fine, Saphira, Eragon thought as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. "One moment please", He replied as he donned a rough green tunic, and firmly secured the belt of Beloth the Wise and Brisingr around his midriff. He took a quick glance in the mirror, hoping that seeing himself would strengthen his resolve. It did no such thing.
His ears were prominently pointed, turning a light shade of red-pink with the elven ambassador so close by. The muscles of his arms were lean, yet they bulged when he clenched his fists. His shoulders were broad, and his hair hung down in curly waves, nearly brushing his shoulders. The entirety of his physical being was clean, unblemished, unscarred. His own darkened brown eyes gazed back at him from the mirror, filled with the pain he knew too well.
The face that he knew was his own was still so alien to him. He looked like a half-breed; his features being prominently elvish, and yet he was large in stature, and too heavily built...
"Eragon, what's taking you so long?" The irritation of the Elven ambassador was palpable.
He staggered back from the mirror, looking toward the tent door, then back to the mirror, and he shuddered. "Sorry," he weakly apologized as he tore his eyes from the troubled man in his reflection.
Arya could sense his unease as he swiftly exited his tent. He didn't look her in the eye as he began to recite the Elven greeting, but one of Arya's lithe, willowy fingers silenced him. Her irritation had dissolved when she saw his disturbed demeanor. "No formalities, remember? We're friends."
She was disturbed slightly when he didn't smile as per usual. He only nodded, once. She pressed him, "Why aren't you enjoying the festivities being held in Dras-Leona?"
Eragon, glanced up, slightly surprised before answering, "Saphira and I have found parties to be rather...over stimulating, so we decided to enjoy a quiet night together."
Arya instantly knew what he was thinking about. The Blood-Oath Celebration. She shrank a little on the inside with that thought. She studied him for a moment, briefly, and spoke, "Come, walk with me, Eragon."
"Pray-tell, where we're going," he asked, as Arya took his larger hand in one of her own and pulled him along.
"A rather nice place, I think you'll enjoy it," she responded as she pulled him onward.
He hesitated, turning back slightly, "But Saphira..."
Go, Little One, I'll be here when you return. Find some mental peace with Emerald-Eyes, Saphira thought in response.
Eragon's will collapsed, and he submitted himself to Arya's constant tugging, moving next to her, rather than lagging behind. "You seem troubled," Arya stated as they walked. The night was just starting to set in.
"I am," Eragon replied, and did not expound on it.
Arya, glanced at him, her eyebrows raised, but he was not looking at her. Arya was confused. What was wrong? Had she insulted him? This feeling of sadness was so unlike him.
"Why aren't you attending the celebrations, Arya?"
She gave a small shrug. "I couldn't find you there."
"Oh," Eragon replied.
They proceeded in silence, the cool night air alighting on the pair like leaves in autumn. A rocky outer crop came into sight, the white light of the moon shining on its exposed jagged edges. The sound of water flowing in a small trickle was heard in the distance. Eragon's gaze was transfixed. "How do you manage to find these places, Arya," He asked in wonder.
"A fair amount of luck and instinct, I suppose," She responded happily. "You like it?"
"Yes," Eragon breathed out, "Yes, Arya, it's beautiful."
"Come on, then. See the world from above." She took his hand and lead him up the jagged steps of broken rock easily and carefully, keeping him from falling as they ascended to the smooth, flat top of the upheaval.
"Look, Eragon," Arya said pointing to lights in the distance. "Dras-Leona is ours."
He nodded. "One step closer to the end."
"What do you hope for, Eragon?" Arya asked, as she sat.
"I hope to one day settle down, to find love and have a family." He said.
"You already have them," Arya said, "Roran, your cousin, and Saphira."
Eragon laughed without humor. "Aye, I wish for Roran's lot any day, though.
"Because he's married?"
"He has love. A wonderful, compassionate, strong woman to love, and she loves him too. I wish for that every night, and every day," Eragon said broodingly.
Arya was afraid, her gut twisting and writhing inside her. He loved her still, she could tell, and it would get him killed if he continued on this way.
"Are you insinuating something?" Arya pried, irritated slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"That you have not found your love yet, and yet you tell me?" Arya's irritation grew to anger.
"Arya, I don't understand, what did I say?" Eragon was frightened. He'd never seen her so angry since his fairith.
"Do you love me?" Arya asked him, sharply.
"Arya, why do you ask?", Eragon pleaded.
"Is it true?" Anger gave her voice a deadly color.
"Arya, please...", Eragon backed to the edge of the small hill, away from Arya's cold fury.
"Tell me Eragon, speak the truth," She demanded.
Eragon's heart faltered, and he dropped to his knees, "Arya Drottningu, I can't lie to you. I love you, I always have even when I try to make... to force myself to stop, I cannot."
"Then you must make me a promise, Eragon." Arya said, her black fury evident in her voice as she turned from him.
"A promise?" He asked, about to inquire further.
"Yes, swear to me, Eragon, in the ancient language, that your affections for me, and your pursuit of my hand shall cease, now and forever. Swear it now," She ordered.
A raging pain ignited in Eragon's bosom, behind his sternum. "Arya, I...I cannot lie..."
Her fiery emerald orbs locked with his own, as she whipped around. "Then let it be known, now and forever, that you Eragon, and your dragon are dead to me."
Those words crippled him even further, his being crushed, and he lay prostrate, nails gouging at the ground. Arya, turned and began to stalk away. "Wait."
"I cannot lie, not in the way you want me to, but you can bind me. You know my name, my true name. I know you know it. Arya, I-I give you permission to use it, but please, don't leave me now. I need our friendship."
Humble Servant Rider, Hopeful Peace Bringer, The Pure One. Arya knew his name immediately as he gave her permission. She uttered his name and his body went rigid like water when it turns to ice. What she was about to do was so...Evil. She could feel it in her twisting being, such an act. She couldn't believe she was going to do it now. She called on his name again, and his muscles bulged under his skin. "You will not pursue my hand, nor will you love me, seek me, touch me, nor will your affections for me continue. It will end today, now, this very moment. Any feeling you hold for me will only be the ones of the most simple friendship, anything more is forbidden. We are forever separate, you were never meant to love me. I am too old, and you are too young. I am a princess; an heir to my mother's reign, you are a dragon rider. You are only human, and I am an elf."
She looked at him, and blanched at the sight with her finished epitaph. Sweat gleamed off his body in the moonlight, his breathing wracked with hollow sounding howls of agony. His limbs shook violently, and suddenly, he was still. His body pitched forward, arms devoid of strength, his face grinding against the smooth stone, she thought him unconscious until she saw his eyes open, and looking at her, empty windows to a hollowed soul.
A terrible ear-splitting screech pierced Arya's skull, forcing her to her knees with its intensity. Her hands clamped tightly around her head, shielding her ears from the sound, and suddenly, Saphira was there. What...in all of the nameless evils have you done, Arya?
She looked at Saphira, astute, and as haughty as ever. "It was dangerous, his feelings for me. He gave me permission..." Her brief explanation drowned out, as she felt the hatred emanating from the sapphire dragon.
May your very long life be filled with sorrow. Saphira's maw opened, and raw heat lapped at Arya's skin, searing her eyes. She cried out, turning her back to the heat and suddenly it was gone, and Eragon with it.