A/N: There may be Brisingr spoilers. Also, I would love reviews and/or concrit. I'll have a new chapter up by Friday, at the latest. This is a prologue of sorts though, an opening that I needed to continue with the other pieces.
Acceptance
There is an open door. On one side, a man, alarmed and confused stands with the doorknob in his hand and a look of shock on his face. A woman stands on the other side, vaguely amused.
"Oh," is all Eragon manages to say. Arya holds back a smile.
"It's late – I mean, um," he looks around, not at her, but the ceiling, the doorframe, the floor, as though maybe the words he's looking for are hidden there and – "do you want to come in?"
She murmurs her assent as he lets her in, wildly confused. whatwhatwhat why is she here what is going on how did all this happen? With a quiet confidence, she has taken a seat in his own room and is nodding at the empty chair in front of her, as though it is not his own room and it is not the dead of night and the whole ting is not as strange as hell.
But he relents and takes the seat, so she smiles. Evidently the panic and shock he feels are hidden-
"You're terrified," she observes.
Never mind, damn it.
He decides to avoid the obvious topic, her presence, and instead goes for a cautious, "How are you?"
She blinks in rapid succession; he's thrown her off. "I would be perfectly fine, as normal. A better question would be how you are."
But then the panic and the shock are wearing thin, and Eragon eventually starts to use his brain and so common sense kicks in. "What are you doing here?" he demands, completely ignoring her previous question.
With a touch of sarcasm, Arya asks, "Why do women normally sneak off to men's rooms in the middle of the night?"
Whatever he had expected, that was certainly not it. Looking away, with the blood and the heat pounding through his cheeks, he tries again. "Really, why?"
Arya sighs in defeat and looks at him with honesty. "I am becoming a distraction. Again."
He almost blurts out something he will surely regret, but then he stops and carefully considers his words. "And what are we going to do about that?"
His words are gentle and soft, but they still make her frown in thought. "You need to focus more, and I preventing that," she says, clearly dodging the question.
"So," he prompts.
"So, I will accept your advances. Do not fool yourself and think it is out of love, however."
"For duty, then?" his words are neutral, but she can hear the disgust.
"It may not be love… but it is not duty either, I assure you." Arya shrugs, a too-casual movement.
Eragon looks at her, for once silent. Carefully blocking his thoughts from the resting Saphira, he stands and asks, "Are you willing? Because if you're not, then I don't agree."
She rises from the chair, walking towards him slowly, carefully considering him.
All thoughts of his question are gone when she grabs him roughly by the shirt and kisses him rather passionately for one with no love.