Subject: Eragon. Arya/Eragon. 058. Dinner

Title: Never Gone

Fandom: Eragon

Characters: Arya, Eragon, Islanzadi

Prompt: No. 058 Dinner

Word Count: 497

Rating: PG

Summary: Years ago, Arya thought that Eragon died in a ferocious fire that burnt down the entire Varden's headquarters. She was wrong.

Author's notes: CP's the man/boy. You get my drift.

Arya sighed softly, padding softly around the silent house, busying herself with preparations for her mother's arrival in an effort to distract her from the day. It had been two years since Eragon's death, and she still could not stop herself from collapsing into a fresh bout of tears every time it comes to his death anniversary.

She sighed softly, taking the carrots from the storage box, swiftly chopping it into perfectly equal cubes, before putting the little cubes onto a plate. Having done that, she took out more vegetables, chopping them absentmindedly, tears running down her face all the while.

She should have been there with him; she berated herself, knowing that it was no use. He was gone. She still remembered that day, where the varden's headquarters had burned to ashes, with Nasuada, Eragon and Orik in it.

It had just been months after the defeat of Galbatorix, the country was in chaos, and the trio had gathered there to grab some documents. Then it happened, an ardent supporter of Galbatorix's rule rushed in, standing in the middle of the conference room, before blowing himself up. It had started a chain reaction, blowing up the entire headquarters. When the flames died out, there was three charred bodies lying on the ground, the ashes drifting down from the sky.

She had rushed there as fast as she could when she heard the news, already sobbing uncontrollably whilst riding there. They had become intimate only a few weeks ago, and she didn't believe that their relationship would have ended so quickly.

"Arya?" Islanzadi called softly, peeking into the kitchen.

At that moment, Arya, shocked and startled, sliced her finger, dropping the knife in pain, crying now.

"Arya, are you all right?" Islanzadi asked softly, moving to her side when she saw the blood on her daughter's hands.

Arya sniffed softly, leaning on her mother, laying her head on Islanzadi's shoulder.

"I miss him, mother," she said softly, tears running down her face.

"I know, Arya, I know." she sighed, "but I have a surprise for you," she said brightly, looking at Arya, hoping that she would cheer up.

"Arya," a deep voice sounded from the doorway.

The woman in question looked up, coming face to face with someone she thought was long dead.

"Eragon?" she gasped, startled, before launching herself at him, crying.

Islanzadi slipped out silently, making her way across the fields to her home, smiling softly.

Somewhere in the midst of the darkness, a lone figure puffed a pipe, the smoke rings floating around the room before disintegrating.

"It was about time that they enjoyed the freedom they fought so hard to get. I will not fight them anymore. It is time for some peace to return to their lives. Perhaps a few centuries later, I'll come back to check on things."

The dark figure opposite him nodded, before the two of them disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the faint stench of cigarette smoke.