* * * Eragon's POV * * *
It had been a month since the dark King had toppled from his black throne, his head falling from his body, decapitated by Brisingr. The deed was done so why wasn't I at peace?
In the back of my mind I knew it was because I had to leave. It was my predestined fate, my curse. So why was I still here?
Angela's prophecy ran through my mind, as though right at that instant the old witch was whispering the words into my ears. 'Your fate will be to leave this land forever. Where you will end up I know not, but you will never again come to stand in Alagaësia. This is inescapable. It will come to pass even if you try to avoid it.'
A breeze sprang up, carrying the delicious smell of pine cones I so loved, I knew. Her. Arya Dröttningu. The name sounded like a whisper in my mind. That's why I hadn't left. Arya, I needed her. I wanted her. But she didn't want me. Agony ripped through me, shredding my heart, as my eyes watered at the thought of never gazing into her solemn emeralds of eyes. Never watching the sunrise with her. Never sparring with her. Never flying Saphira with her. I closed my eyes, massaging my temples in an effort to repel the miserable thoughts.
Oh, Little One, I'll always be with you. I love you, even if Arya does not.
Thank you, Saphira, I love you too.
I asked her where she was, quietly wishing for her company in my hour of need, but she was almost a league away, hunting. I would have to remain alone.
Just remember to keep your heart guarded, Little One, she admonished in my mind, as I felt Arya settle beside me.
"Atra esterni ono Thelduin, Arya Svit-Kona," I murmured, glancing over at her. My eyes were riveted to her graceful form. Since the war was over she had replaced her usual black leather with the more casual clothes she had worn the last time we were in Ellesméra. But today she had forsaken her leggings and tunic completely for a dress. It looked very similar to the one she had worn when pretending to be a human in Eastcroft.
"Eragon-vor, please there is no need for formalities between friends such as ourselves," she said, sounding amused. I nodded in response to her words. Arya no longer called me Eragon-ebrithil – she had completed her training in a fraction of the time I had after Groenur hatched for her so I was no longer her master. She was a fully-fledged Dragon Rider, just like Murtagh and I. Although I was still the lead rider, even though I was not the oldest. In fact out of the three of us, I was the youngest, but I had been a rider the longest. I looked up for a moment, searching the skies for any trace of the deep forest-green scales of the dragon, so like the colour of Arya's eyes.
"If that is what you wish, Arya. What can I do for you?" I asked, curious as to why she had come to see me.
"Do I have to have a reason to talk to my closest friend?"
A small smile came to my lips at her words.
"Where's Saphira?" She asked.
"Off hunting somewhere south of here," I replied pointing off into the treeline.
A faraway look entered her eyes and I knew she was talking with her dragon. "Groenur is going to join here."
Ever since Saphira had become mates with Groenur they'd become inseparable. I harboured a suspicion that Saphira may have been pregnant with eggs, but if she was she hadn't told me.
Arya and I lapsed into quiet contentment, merely enjoying the other's company. But the silence was killing me, I was dying to look up into her eyes and brush her hair back from her honey-toned skin. I wanted to trail my fingers over her perfect cheek bones and lips. My hand was itching to touch her. It was taking all of my self-control to keep my hand from reaching out towards her.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched her, surprised to find her seemingly struggling with something too. Her eyes were turned down to the ground of the knoll below her, watching the gentle sway of the grass. My eyes were torn from her beauty by a flicker of movement in my left peripheral. My head snapped up towards it, and there, hovering not three foot away from my face, was Arya's enchanted boat. I stared in wonderment.
"Arya…" I said, urging her to look up.
She glanced at my face for a second, confused and then gazed past me and at the flying ship.
"It found us again! How?" I asked, laughing in pure joy, forgetting to hide some of my love for her behind my façade.
She looked back at me puzzled. "I don't know," she admitted in shock.
I furled my eyebrows in thought whilst Arya muttered to herself. But my thoughts were soon drawn back to what she was saying. Her melodious voice capturing my heart and my attention. After staring lazily at her for a few minutes, I started when she raised her voice, to almost shout into the wind.
"But it goes anywhere where there's love! Where's the love here? Tell me that if you exist, Gûntera!" Outburst over, she collapsed down onto the floor, curling into a ball. Soft snivels reached my sensitive ears and before I knew it I was pulling her into my arms. Tears ran in rivulets down her soft cheeks as she cried in my arms. I shushed her and comforted her as best I could but I had no idea what was wrong. At long last her tears began to stop so gathering my courage, I asked her why she was so upset.
"Forgive me, Eragon, I don't quite know what came over me. But no matter, I am fine now."
"It does matter. What did you mean, 'where's the love here?'"
"Isn't it obvious, Eragon? When I created that ship, I enchanted it to fly by feeding off the energy of its surroundings but its purpose was to travel anywhere there was love. But there is no love between us; you long ago gave up your suit for me." I looked at her guiltily. "Didn't you?"
"Arya, please, just listen to what I have to say, I have no wish to hurt you. I cannot give up my suit for you. You are in my heart, night and day. It is no mere childish infatuation I feel for you. My heart beats just to see you smile, to hear you laugh or better yet here you sing. It no longer belongs to me, it belongs to you. Every time you come near me, it years to break free from the caverns of my chest and fly into your hands. All I want and live for is for you to return my feelings."
* * * Arya's POV * * *
I pursed my lips, trying to think of something to say which would not hurt him. The truth was I could never reciprocate his feelings for a million different reasons. I was broken; I was the shell of the person I once was, destroyed by the death of my other half, my mate, Faolin. I, myself, didn't understand my feelings for Eragon so how could I tell him?
"Eragon…"
He looked up at me, staring into my eyes, his own filled with such love and affection that I knew everything he had said was true, twice proven correct by his use of the Ancient Language. Internally I groaned.
"Don't. Don't say it," he whispered hoarsely, dragging himself to his feet and turning to walk away, back into Ellesméra. "I would appreciate it if you would not come to me in the future, Arya Dröttningu."
I crumpled back down to the ground, missing the warmth of his body around mine and cried once more for my lost friendship. Why do I have to ruin everything I touch? I thought desperately. Staggering slightly, I drew myself up to my full height and ran all the way back to Tialdarí Hall. Dark fell before I arrived. Once inside I threw myself down on the straw bed and stared at the ceiling as tears once more began to brim in my slanted eyes. I heard the rush of air as Groenur landed on the balcony. He was getting so big now, now that he was seven months old, that I knew soon we would have to leave Tialdarí Hall and move into a tree house like Eragon's. Leashing a cry, I ran to him and leapt into the hollow at his green scaly neck, pressing myself against him for comfort.
He hummed a deep bass as he turned to look at me.
Hatchling?
Oh, Groenur!
What's wrong, Hatchling?
Unable to fund the words I sent him the memories of my encounter with Eragon. I felt his indignation at Eragon for leaving me there crying across our link.
I don't understand why you are so upset, Hatchling, he confessed.
Oh, Groenur, I will miss him, he is my closest friend. My only friend. And now he never wishes to see me or speak to me again.
Hatchling, you have many friends here in the forest.
None of them like Eragon.
What makes Eragon so different from them?
He's so innocent. Even after the war, he remains untouched, unaffected by it. He is…good. There's no other word for him, his smile is infectious. His enthusiasm, contagious. Just being around him begins to lessen my heartache. His presence heals me, begins to turn me back into the person I was before this blasted war, Faolin's death and my torture at Gil'ead. My laughs come easier when he is beside me. The careful façade I painstakingly maintain so no-one knows the extent of my pain begins to fall.
A soft chuckle echoed into the night air, coming from deep inside Groenur's huge chest.
Groenur? What are you laughing at?
You, Hatchling. He replied, continuing to laugh in his rumble-like manner.
Would you mind elaborating on that to tell me why?
Arya, my dear partner-of-my-heart-and-mind, isn't it obvious? And with that he grabbed me in his claws, holding me in a careful, gentle embrace. He jumped from the balcony, exerting pressure through his enormous hind legs, and with one powerful stroke of his beating wings, sent us soaring up into the air.
Groenur, what are you doing? I shouted to him.
He gave me no response save for flinging me up into the air, leaving me to land in the hollow on his neck. I manipulated my body to avoid his sharp spines and folded myself against his neck, clinging on for dear life. I sought entry to his mind, finding it securely closed. Confused, I ran my hand down the side of his neck and shouted his name aloud, all to no avail.
Before I knew it, Groenur had unceremoniously landed outside Eragon's tree house with a loud boom, the ground shaking under his paws as though an earthquake had struck. From inside came the sound of terribly wracking sobs as Eragon wept once more after my rejection. My mind flashed back to the previous time during the Agaetí Blödhren. The elf I could sense behind me was unlike any I had ever seen. He was familiar like a half-remembered melody but I could not place him. I did not recognise his features even though it was my duty as princess to know all of my subjects. The scent of fresh earth just after a rainstorm clung to him as he walked towards me.
I looked into his deep chocolate brown eyes, thinking they were a strange colour for an elf. As he saw me looking at him he smiled. I choked and stiffened as I realised I did know him. My eyes widened in shock at his appearance.
"Is that you, Eragon?"
His ears were properly pointed, as an elf's rather than the in-between human and elf tips he had after becoming a Rider. His eyes had slanted upwards in his face. The planes of his face had sharpened, also, accentuating the handsome, rugged quality he had. But unlike elves, his body was wider, more muscled and brawny than lithe.
After I walked away, I'd heard his tears. I'd even heard his mental conversation with Saphira. Sometimes when Eragon was distressed he wouldn't notice his barriers weren't up.
I tore my mind away from the painful memory and back to the present wondering why Groenur had brought me to Eragon's home.
Talk to him, Hatchling.
I sent him the mental equivalent of a nod, thinking it unwise to disobey a dragon, even if I was his Rider.
Unwilling to exert myself climbing the stairs, I muttered rïsa under my breath and levitated up to the window, expecting Eragon or Saphira to have heard Groenur's rough landing and be waiting for me. Instead, when my hands found themselves within reach of the window sill and I had pulled myself up to sit on the inset wood, I saw Eragon huddled against Saphira's neck, still uncontrollably sobbing, with his majestic blue dragons wing curled around him in a sympathetic embrace.
Unexpectedly my legs pulled me into the room through the open window. My feet took me to Eragon and my hands pulled him from Saphira and into my arms.
Arya! Saphira hissed in anger in my mind.
Saphira, peace, eka celöbra ono un mulabra ono un onr Shur'tugal né haina.
She silently harrumphed across our link and then withdrew from the mental contact, leaving me to talk with Eragon, who had pulled himself out of my arms.
I turned to look at him. Anger clouded his usually warm eyes, turning his mouth into a derisive sneer. I flinched.
"Why are you here, Arya?" He asked heatedly.
"I don't know," I replied in a barely audible whisper. "I'm sorry."
He nodded, his anger dissipating somewhat but still burning furiously under the surface, behind his intense eyes. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and then flopped down onto his bed, leaving me to stand awkwardly in the centre of the room whilst Saphira flew off into the night to talk to Groenur.
I heard him chuckle at my discomfort.
Why did you bring me here, Groenur?
You need to tell him what you told me.
What did I tell you? I asked confusedly.
Tell Eragon what you think of him.
I can't do that! It would just give him false hope; make him think I have feelings for him!
Arya, he said gently, look inside yourself. You do have feelings for Eragon.
No I don't!
He forced memories one after one into my mind, showing me what he had seen time after time. I saw myself looking at Eragon with open longing in my eyes as I sat beside him only that morning, my façade completely gone. Next was me carefully regarding Eragon, fear for him so clearly displayed in my expression, as he flew to meet Galbatorix on Shruikan in the Final Battle. The montage continued, until I forcibly shoved Groenur from my mind, unable to take any more of his memories of me.
Mortified of my discovery I fled, running away from the tree house and into the treeline. I felt more than heard Eragon chasing after me, the pounding of his feet sending vibrations through the ground and up my own legs. I spurred my feet on faster, picking up speed and leaving him in dust.
I sank to the ground, exhausted, by a vaguely familiar stream. My head fell into my hands as I contemplated my feelings. How can I love Eragon? I still love Faolin! Certainly Eragon is closest to my heart – but he's not in my heart! Is he? Suddenly I wasn't so sure. All of the reasons which dictated to me that any relationship between us could not exist were gone. Eragon wasn't a boy anymore; he was a man. He wasn't an elf, but nor was he human; he was something in between. I was older than him, but he'd experienced just as much as me, if not more because of the cursed war. I wouldn't be a distraction to him now that Galbatorix was dead. All that remained for us to do was re-build the Riders and proclaim a new monarch over Alagaësia. If I were in a relationship with Eragon, I wouldn't be distracting him because I would be rebuilding the Rider's with him. It was also my duty as the Elven Princess and the Ambassador to the Varden to offer my opinion on the new ruler. What was happening to me? How had I had such a change of heart in so little time? Needing to see my reflection, I dragged myself to my now sore feet and wandered over to the stream. I sat on my knees, hunched over to stare at the water. I was surprised by what I found.
Tears had sprung unbidden to my eyes and glistened down and over my cheeks like snail-trails. When did that happen? I searched my face for any change but all I saw was more tears, blurring my vision. In desperation I waded out into the stream, still in all my dress, and repeated the tactic there. Once more all I saw was my face looking rather tired and sleep-deprived with my eyes red from crying.
I didn't understand how it was possible for me to love two people at the same time. Either I didn't love Eragon or I didn't love Faolin anymore. As I thought of Eragon's beautiful eyes, I wondered how I would ever be able to live without my closest friend. I proved that I could live without Faolin, so did that mean that I didn't love Faolin anymore? That I loved Eragon more than Faolin?
A cry tore from my lips. Why is life so complicated? All I want is to see my beloved Faolin again. I swam further into the stream, where my feet couldn't reach the bottom.
I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself.
See you soon, my fair Faolin.
I sighed.
I turned my eyes to the sky, closing them in rapture.
And then I ducked under the water.
I opened my eyes, gazing into the murky depths of the muddy water. Vine-like weeds wound themselves around my ankles as they swayed in the current. I held my breath for as long as possible and still I refrained from kicking up to the surface and breathing in fresh air even though my body and mind were screaming for me to simply open my mouth. I wanted the sweet release of death.
I began to think I was dreaming. In front of me was a merman. His light brown hair was plastered to his forehead as he swam towards me, arms outstretched as he tried to reach me. His hands locked onto my wrists and he pulled me up. I felt a sharp pain as my muscles stretched against the plant bonds around my ankles. The seaman heaved once more before diving down to my feet and wrenching the clammy weeds away from my skin. My vision began to tinge red. He grabbed my face in his large hands forcing me to look at him, and mouthed meaningless words at me, hidden behind the flurries of bubbles escaping his mouth. Finally I succumbed to the wishes of my body and parted my lips. I sighed as I felt myself drifting into death's embrace.
Eragon, my mind whispered as the world fell away leaving me in the dark.