I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or the characters.
So, I'm going to call this a Quotefic because I wrote the theme of this story around the quote shown below.
"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us." ~ Helen Keller
Door to the Heart:
Water dripped from the sky, tracing patterns down Arya's cheeks in rivulets before joining the pooling water on the ground beneath the tree branch where she sat. A steady, rhythmic beating of droplets upon the mud below her filled the air with a soothing buzz. A buzz that focused her frenetic thoughts and drowned out the incessant queries of hopeless Elven nobles. If their questions were not so vital to the war effort, Arya might laugh at them, for elves were particularly bad at adapting to change, especially the more powerful ones.
Arya shook her head, clearing her mind of the war; peaceful moments like these were rare. With the war raging in Alagaësia, Arya was involved in every type of meeting imaginable; resource meetings, strategic meetings, dispute settlements, and Arya's personal favorite; the war spoils meetings.
In a way, these exhausting meetings benefitted Arya, allowing her to keep her mind away from the numerous losses she had suffered of late. But it was in these rare times of solitude that Arya could forget the present and instead mourn for the past.
Out of all the tragedies that the war had imposed on her, Fäolin's death had hit her the hardest. It was Fäolin that she mourned for when she was alone, when she dropped her cool, indifferent façade. She did not mentally break down for her father who was killed nearly a century ago, nor did she cry for the friends lost to the casualties of war. Every second of her isolation was spent reminiscing about Fäolin.
In hindsight, Arya recognized that Fäolin had been her happiness, the place where her heart was safe. She only wished that she had seen the beauty of love before it had been so violently withdrawn from her life. If she had seen all of what Fäolin meant to her just a bit sooner, if she had cherished their bond just an ounce more, then maybe she could have stopped the fatal barbed arrow.
There was nothing I could have done, Arya reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Nothing I could have done would have altered the situation significantly.
Still, despite her more reasonable, sensible side providing the same logical answers over and over, Arya's twisted heart denied the simplicity of the course of events. No matter what she did, whenever she thought of him, her heart clenched painfully, a constant reminder of what she had and then lost.
She could feel a warm tear roll down her face, joining the ceaseless raindrops that continued to rattle the pine needles of the tree in which she sat atop. She was glad that nobody was around to see her breakdown like this, to see her abandon the diplomatic mask that she wore around others. Arya did not need others to see how weak she truly was, how easily she cried over her fallen love. Nobody needed to know what was her past; she was forever to linger alone in the ghost of her past. She had a chance at true happiness, and it was gone. Chasing a second chance would be abandoning what she had once had, forgetting how much she had loved Fäolin.
"Arya?" A voice called from somewhere below her.
She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand before craning her neck to see her intruder. She almost tumbled from her perch in shock when she saw Eragon looking up at her. How long had he been there? Did he see her crying? Arya silently berated herself for being so careless, how could she let him catch her unawares? "What are you doing here Eragon?"
He chuckled softly, "I could ask you the same thing Arya. It has been raining for the last couple of hours. You should not be out in the forest during this weather, you will catch a cold."
"You are out here too," Arya pointed out, in no mood to bandy words. "So what are you doing out here at this time?"
"May I sit in the tree with you? It is hurting my neck to look at you up there," Eragon said, avoiding her question again.
Arya sighed, it would be rude to refuse him at this point. "Of course Eragon."
She felt him bump her shoulder lightly as he seated himself next to her. The trees in Du Weldenvarden were enormous, the one they currently sat in was considerably larger than average. One branch was wide enough to seat both of them and thick enough to support their combined weight.
"So, what are you doing here Eragon?" She asked again.
He looked at her carefully, "I was worried about you." He shrugged. "You have seemed troubled of late."
Arya quickly averted her eyes, was her inner turmoil that noticeable? "I appreciate your concern Eragon, but I am fine."
"I've traveled with you long enough to know when you're happy, angry…or in pain. And right now, it seems as if you are all three," Eragon said, his words mirroring the words Arya had said to him under the Menoa Tree so long ago.
His concern for her left Arya flustered and self-conscious. Nobody had cared for her well-being for a long time, never since Fäolin. "You should not worry yourself over my problems Eragon, we both have our own separate duties to fulfill."
Eragon's hand gripped Arya's upper arm tightly, forcing her to face him. "We are friends Arya, are we not? Friends help each other through hard times, no matter what the situation is."
The ferocity in his voice caused Arya to bite her lip in indecision: should she burden Eragon with her sorrow, sorrow that nobody else ever knew about? Why not, one part of her argued, who else but Eragon has offered to comfort her? She caved in to her subconscious, "I come out here whenever I can to freely mourn over the death of Fäolin."
She could feel tears welling in her eyes again, waiting to fall. Showing weakness to another was humiliating for Arya, but Eragon's presence made her feel safe. As the tears slowly escaped, Arya felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders, hugging her tightly to Eragon's chest.
Her insides screamed at her, telling her that this type of behavior was inappropriate and that it would be better not to encourage his feelings, if they were still present that is. But Arya could not find it in her to push Eragon away, push away the nearly forgotten sensation of safety enveloping her.
Inaudible sobs rattled Arya's slim frame as she let loose her bottled-up emotions. Tears stained the tunic that Eragon wore while he patiently comforted her, whispered calm reassurances in her ear, and rubbed her soothingly. The moisture in her eyes abated after an immeasurable length of time, enabling Arya to regain her composure and organize her chaotic thoughts.
Having come to her senses and her better judgment reawakening, Arya found herself in an odd situation; she was more comfortable than she could remember in the recent past, yet also uncomfortable with the closeness of Eragon's proximity. "I am sorry for breaking down on you like that Eragon."
Arya's breath caught in her throat as Eragon turned towards her, his lips ever so slightly curved upwards in a ghost of a smile. "You don't need to thank me Arya, I will always be here to help you."
Quickly turning away from Eragon, Arya forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. When had she become so susceptible to the simplest of Eragon's movements? She forced herself to remember her oath to keep her past bond to Fäolin intact. "Even so, I am sorry for imposing on you. I am taking away from your free time."
"My time is better spent insuring that you are well rather than by doing some inane chore," Eragon said, his grip on her becoming tighter, more protective.
"I do not understand. You could be enjoying your spare time with Saphira or engage yourself in light conversation with other elves. Instead, you are here while I am less than communicative," Arya wondered.
Eragon tensed, his warm touch transforming into cold marble. And as quickly as the change had come over him, his previous attitude returned, his arm relaxing and the blood flowing through it once more. "Arya, I would do anything to ensure that you were happy." He paused. "I would sacrifice my own happiness so that you would not be alone, so that you would know that you have a friend whose shoulder you can cry on. I would do this because of my love for you."
Ice flashed through Arya's veins. It was the exact thing that she hoped he would say, and the words that she wished he did not say. She knew that she had been slowly falling in love with Eragon for a good long time now, should she accept his love? Or should she honor her oath and respect her previous love for Fäolin? Arya vacillated between the options for what seemed like a millennia in her mind.
Snapping back to reality, Arya found Eragon's eyes glued to her face, wondering if his profession was the wrong thing to say. She bit her lip, still undecided. "It is all right Arya, you don't have to reply. I just wanted you to know…Though I did not choose the best time to tell you since you are mourning over Fäolin," Eragon said, rambling over his last few sentences. Everything came out in a jumbled rush to cover up the awkward tension between them.
Arya silenced him with a finger. Her mind made up and resolve steeled, Arya said the words that she had kept locked inside of her for so long. "Eragon…I have been dwelling in the past for so long, keeping myself chained in the past. But then you came along and opened my eyes, opened them to see what is around me. You have been the light that has guided me through the darkness of life. You have stood by my side more times than I can count, and now I wish to stand by yours…if you would have me."
With her eyes trained on Eragon's features, she saw a faint smile grace his lips. "Do you even have to ask?"
Subconsciously, Arya leaned forward, her eyes sliding closed. Their lips hovered mere centimeters apart, heavy with anticipation. She could feel Eragon's warm breath, his overpowering presence, his warm, gentle arm. Pushing through the last barriers standing between them, Arya was engulfed in complete rapture, the feeling of the moment transcending anything that she had ever felt before.
When she opened her eyes, emerald met brown as Eragon met her gaze, looking at her with loving abandon. His eyes radiated unrestrained love, love that had remained concealed for too long. Arya could sympathize with his plight, for she too had locked away her love, her heart; though it was by her own doing.
"I want to thank you Eragon."
"For what?" Eragon seemed genuinely puzzled.
"For keeping the door to your heart and soul open."
Author's Note"
I hope you guys liked this short one-shot. Personally, I think that it is my best writing stylistically, but I don't want to appear conceited ;p.
Arya may have been OoC, but I hope it was not by too much, I tried my best ;p. But an emotionally-broken Arya and the normal, indifferent Arya? Hard to keep in character.
If you guys liked this type of one-shot where I write the story around a famous, meaningful quote, then perhaps I'll write more.
Thanks for reading, drop me a review :)