Chapter 1... A Blessing or a Curse from the Past?
(This occurs after Eragon finishes explaining his account of events to Roran - Basically the end of Eldest. Arisia and Orona travelled with Eragon and Brom since their exit from Carvahall. They had been travelling with them throughout both books. They learned about their heritage in Ellesmera, and found out their father was an Elven prince.)
As Eragon and Roran exited Eragon's tent, they were greeted with a heart-warming reunion. Orona, her usually well kept hair sticking out in all angles, leapt into her Uncle Horst's arms. Arisia was tenderly embracing her Aunt Elaine, gently stroking the protruding bump, and speaking softly to the tiny child still within the womb. Both girls, barely women, had fought in the recent battle, and their injuries, though not life threatening, were enough to worry Eragon. Arisia could perform magic, but didn't seem too concerned about her own injuries, which were far worse than her sisters. Only then did it occur to Eragon that Arisia had actually fought in the battle whereas Orona had taken the wounded from the throng of warriors, bringing them to various medical tents and was, although certainly not any less courageous, therefore unlikely to have as many injuries.
Roran looked at the scene with satisfaction and, for a brief moment, grief. Exchanging a mournful look with Eragon a memory drifted into his reluctant mind. Only this one was from a dream of his father and his cousin, reunited when he came back from Therinsford with enough money to ask for Katrina's hand in marriage.
Katrina.
If someone wrenched his heart out of his chest, threw it into a wall, and stamped on it, it would not hurt as much as her absence. Now he knew she was alive, and Eragon would assist him in saving her, he felt the sliver of determination in his heart harden into a fist of resolve. Suddenly, from the depths of his subconscious a memory leapt, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind.
"Horst." He barked, breathing deeply.
"Aye, Stronghammer?" Horst replied, putting his Niece down. Eragon noticed he kept her close, as though he was afraid she would run away from him again.
"You wished to tell Eragon something... Wasn't it something that involved our Father?"
Both Orona's and Arisia's eyebrows rose, but both seemed sensible enough not to comment at the plural.
"Aye, Stronghammer. That I did. However times change and now I am unsure it is for the best under such circumstances." Horst replied, his great brow creasing into a frown.
"Please Horst. If it concerns our Father I am most eager to hear of it." Eragon said, almost pleadingly.
Horst sighed and nodded to his wife, who understood herself to be dismissed. She walked over to Orona, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and wandered off in search of Baldor and Albriech. After making sure Elaine truly was gone, he beckoned to Roran, Eragon and Arisia, as Orona was still resting on his chest. Horst slipped an old weathered scroll from inside his tunic and passed it over to Eragon.
"You can read, can't you?" Horst asked gruffly.
Eragon nodded, looking thoroughly confused, and a little unnerved he broke the seal and read it obligingly. As he read through the words his eyes became steadily wider, until he was completely speechless with disbelief.
"Well? What does it say?" Orona asked, with her usual bite of impatience.
Eragon opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again. Arisia cocked her head slightly, taking note of his strange behaviour. Roran raised an eyebrow and clapped him on the back, like he used to do when they were kids. Orona simply rolled her hazel eyes and rounded quickly on her uncle.
"Well? What does it say?" She asked, clearly impatient now.
Horst was about to answer when Saphira made her descent from the red sky, clutching the bloody corpse of a deer between her talons. She landed next to Eragon, making the ground shake beneath them. Eragon instinctively flexed his knees, bracing for the impact. Horst backed away slightly, looking nervous. Roran stared up at her in amazement, watching her every move. Arisia smiled at the magnificent beast, and Orona was simply indifferent.
"Uncle...?" Orona exclaimed, her face red with frustration.
"Aye, Orona?" Horst said, refusing to take his eyes off the proud dragoness that stood before him.
"The scroll!" Orona practically screamed. "What does it say?!"
Arisia smiled, placing a gentle hand on her back.
"Patience, sister." She said slowly, calmly.
Orona took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. Horst smiled.
"Well... When the traders came, shortly after you, Eragon, were asking around about the blue stone..."
"Which turned out to be an egg..." Orona interrupted softly.
"And Carvahall's downfall." Arisia continued her eyes downcast.
"... Yes. Well, we met up at the dinner that night. We had both decided that Eragon, and one of you two were going to be married. Eragon, even then, was a fine young lad and a good hunter. You were both fine, upstanding young ladies. That there is the Marriage Contract. It states that Eragon can choose which one of you two to marry. We decided since he liked both of you, we would let him pick for himself." Horst said, shrugging. Roran looked simply bewildered. Arisia's face was completely emotionless, but a raven flew from the sky and perched on her shoulder and she stroked it absentmindedly; thus proving she was thinking about this new development. Orona was, for once in her life, speechless.
"It's signed by Garrow and I. But due to the circumstances, this is completely optional to you Eragon. No one can force you to do this. You are a Rider. Who can force you to do anything?!" Horst said, chuckling deeply.
"No one. Of that I am certain." Saphira stated proudly, broadcasting her thoughts into everyone's minds. Horst jumped, startled, but Orona and Arisia both put calming hands onto his shoulder.
Eragon stood still, a look of determination transforming his face. He sighed, and shook his head.
"I cannot ignore my Fathers last request. I will do it. But I have to have some time, I... I have to ensure the decision I make is the right one." Eragon said uncertainly, before turning on his heel and marching into his tent. Saphira watched him go, and after a moment slithered her large snout into the entrance with her large blue eyes closed.
Orona shook her head suddenly, regaining most of her senses.
"Well, I need to get back to the tent. I need to make some herbal medicine for the wounded soldiers, and then I need to go help Gertrude with the villagers..." She turned to Roran. "She does need help and supplies, doesn't she?"
Roran nodded, his eyes still fixed on Eragon's tent. He felt sorry for his cousin. He had been put in the unfortunate position where he could offend the sister he didn't choose, and quite possibly the one he did.
Orona sighed quietly, picking up on Roran's thoughts.
"Well, Baldor and Albriech are already there and I suppose Aunt Elaine found her way there too. Do you wish to join us Roran?"
Arisia suddenly pulled herself out of her silent reverie as well.
"No, Roran." She said, more roughly then she meant to. She continued in a much softer tone. "Stay. Eragon needs you right now. And if he doesn't... then he will." Not only did she know the repercussions of Eragon's decision, like Roran did, but she also knew of Eragon's love for Arya. Marrying one of her nieces was a big step, and would mean that he would have to overcome his infatuation.
Roran nodded in agreement, and watched the family move a couple of tents away, and disappear. Breathing deeply, he carefully put a hand on Saphira's huge neck.
"Can... Can I get through here Saphira?" He said out loud, remembering her indignant response when he last spoke with her.
With a deep rumble in her throat, which Roran took to be a chuckle, she moved her head and laid it a few feet from the entrance to the tent. It was more than enough room to let in any visitors.
"Of Course." She replied. Her voice held a hidden laughter, but much respect.
After saying his thanks he quickly walked in, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. When his eyes adjusted enough, he could see Eragon. He was sitting desolately on the tiny stool, rubbing his forehead furiously. Roran understood how his cousin worked, even though he had changed whilst they had been apart. Whenever Eragon was put in a position he felt uncomfortable in, he reacted with anger. However the Eragon Roran knew would have stormed around the tent, fuming. It was yet another reminder to Roran of just how much Eragon had matured.
"Eragon?" Roran ventured, staring down at his cousin.
"Roran." The reply was short, pained.
"Are you alright?"
"I... I don't know. I don't know what to do. I love both Orona and Arisia as I would a sister, as though they were my own flesh and blood. Since we travelled from Carvahall, we've become even closer. I don't know if I can choose between them." He said raising his head and clasping his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees. He let out a small sigh of frustration.
"You can't have two wives Eragon. You have to choose, if you wish to except the engagement. You don't even have to become engaged to either of them at all! The whole thing is optional."
"That isn't the only problem, Roran. Orona and Arisia are Elven Princesses. Their father, Prince Falowing, is the next in line to the Elven throne. They're Arya's nieces, as a matter of fact. I can't risk offending the Elves. That would be disastrous to the Varden." Eragon said, outwardly calm. His hands, tightly clenched into fists, were the only sign of his underlying confusion.
Roran visibly reeled at this news. The two girls they had practically grown up with were Princesses? And Elven Princesses, no less.
Roran remained silent, and sat down on the ground next to Eragon. He stayed in that position for a while, hoping his presence would calm his cousin.
"Eragon? Roran?"
The two men quickly looked up to the entrance of the tent to see Arisia. Her short inky hair hung loosely around her pale face, and she wore a sombre expression. All of her wounds had been healed, and she had donned a black outfit, one regularly worn by the female elves of Du Weldenvarden. A silky black material encased her chest, baring her arms, collarbone and midriff. A long flowing skirt of the same material and colour clung to her slender hips, contrasting to the pale skin of her stomach. To humans it would appear almost crude, but it was common for Elven royalty. If Arisia was wearing the black, Orona would be wearing the white counterpart.
"May I come in?" She enquired politely.
"Arisia, you are always welcome in my quarters. You know this."
She smiled slightly, stepping in the tent.
"Ahh, but it is always polite to ask." She said, with a small grin.
She looked at Roran and smiled widely.
"Oh, Roran..."
Roran got up, and embraced Arisia tightly. She put her arms around his waist and buried her head into his shoulder.
"I missed you too." Roran said, his chin settled on top of his head.
They broke apart, and looked at each other.
"You changed..." Arisia said, smiling mournfully.
"You too..."
Eragon only listened to fragments of their conversation after this. From what he did listen to, he gleaned they were discussing Katrina, much to Arisia's distress. Arisia was very friendly with Katrina and was the one who initially introduced her to Roran. Eragon felt Saphira gently nudge his conscious with hers.
"Little One..."
"Saphira... I'm so confused... I don't know what to do."
Saphira was once again silent, as if she didn't have the answer to Eragon's dilemma.
Suddenly Eragon was pulled violently out of his mind connection by a primal feeling. His stomach lurched horribly as he looked up.
Arisia was crying.
Arisia had always been so unemotional. Even when they were children, if Arisia fell out a tree, she would just get up and climb again. Physical pain didn't stop her. Normally emotional pain didn't deter her either. But the pain, grief and sorrow that were pouring out of her consciousness was almost unbearable for Eragon. He recoiled quickly from the blast of emotions, set up the barriers around his mind, and fell to his knees so he was beside Arisia. He scooped her up in his arms, and she collapsed into him, crying until she could cry no more. As he held her, the primal feeling in his stomach soothed, and he found he was quite enjoying himself. Not because she was crying, but because she had chosen to go to him for comfort rather than Roran. His feelings in thorough turmoil, he lowered his barriers slightly and contacted Saphira.
"Saphira?"
"Yes, Little One?"
"I think I may feel something for Arisia... I'm even more confused now than I was before!"
"Oh, Eragon. It's simple. You're jealous."
"... I am?"
"Yes. You were jealous of your nest mate when he embraced her, and now you're feeling superior because you're holding her in this time of need and he isn't. It an extremely dangerous feeling, Eragon, so be cautious."
"So, what do I do?"
"Well, choosing Arisia to be your wife is the most sensible path. I understand your determination to fulfil your uncle's wishes. Arisia is a good, kind person, and she can defend herself. Also Orona became extremely close to Lord Dathdr during our stay in Ellesmera."
Eragon readily agreed. He wasn't even slightly worried about Orona being unfaithful to him, but he was worried about her resenting him for the choice. Saphira hesitated before continuing.
"Arisia is an elemental. She is extremely rare, possibly unique. It's a result of her mixture of genes. She may have been blessed at birth also, whereas Orona wasn't. It would explain the atmosphere between her and her father, but I don't believe she knows the full extent of what she can do. But she is modest, and wouldn't flout the reasonably great responsibility of being a Riders wife. Orona I am not so sure about."
Eragon also agreed with that. He was silent for another twenty minutes, during which time, Arisia stayed in his arms, even when she stopped crying. Then he made his decision.
"I know who I'm going to choose." Eragon said calmly, looking down at Arisia and then to his cousin. They both looked back in surprise.
"Are you sure?" Roran asked solemnly.
"It is truly amazing how helpful a Dragon can be for advice." He replied, smiling at Saphira's dark outline. Arisia got up, wiping her tears away and then helped Roran to his feet; looking more than slightly embarrassed. She smiled at Eragon. Smiling back, Eragon got up, but fell back down creasing his brow in pain. Arisia's smile faltered as she rushed to his aid.
"You're hurt!" She said, worried. Eragon smiled, trying not to show how pleased he was to have her attention.
"It's not that bad Arisia, stop fussing." Eragon said.
Arisia chuckled slightly and slipped off the leg plate of Eragon's armour to reveal a long deep slash in his leg. The muscle was cut, and the area of his tunic was caked with blood. Eragon, however, didn't have the magical energy to heal it. Roran stared at the wound with hardened eyes, before roughly excusing himself to find Horst. Arisia took one look at the wound, and swept gracefully across the tent to a wooden bowl of water and a small sponge, supplied by the Varden. Dampening the sponge she knelt before Eragon once again, and began the washing the injury. Whilst she did so she spoke softly.
"I can't ease the pain with salves like Orona can, so you'll have to deal with the pain while I clean it, and then I'll fix the muscle and skin with magic. Okay?"
Her icy eyes stared into his hazel ones with an emotion Eragon couldn't quite grasp... She wasn't smiling; in fact she seemed quite upset. Eragon told himself that she was dismayed by the news of Katrina's capture. Eragon looked back at her with affection.
"Take as long as you like, I'm not in any hurry."
For the next ten minutes she swiftly dealt with the blood and clear pus coming from the wound with talented, nimble fingers.
Once she was reasonably pleased with her handiwork she pressed her palm against the newly cleaned injury and muttered a phrase of the Ancient Language that Eragon couldn't quite hear, and then watched as the skin and muscle knitted beneath her hand without leaving so much as a mark.
"All done..." She said quietly, flashing him a smile. Eragon had come to recognise Arisia's false smiles and the true ones. This was as false as he'd ever seen.
She walked carefully over to the small pile of Eragon's possessions and, once she had his permission, pulled out the belt of Beloth the Wise. Pulling the toggle to reveal the twelve priceless gems, her hand hovered over the Sapphire. Frowning in concentration, Eragon recognised a mind connection between Arisia and Saphira, but was shut out of the specifics of the communication.
Arisia got up suddenly, stumbling very slightly, walking over to Eragon.
"Here..." She said quietly, sounding as though she had run several leagues, and handing him the belt. He sucked in a breath as he discovered a substantial amount of energy stored in the Sapphire.
"Both Saphira and I gave some energy... You're in more need of it than me, I think, and a dragon's energy is never truly depleted."
He smiled gratefully and absorbed the energy, instantly feeling much more awake and alert.
The young Shur'tugal stood up, striding over to Arisia and embracing her warmly.
"Thank you... For everything..." He whispered in her long, pointed ear.
"You don't need to thank me, I am glad to help you with the heavy responsibility my race has placed upon you. It would hurt me terribly to see you or Saphira in pain. And it frequently has..." She whispered back, leaning her head against his armoured shoulder.
Eragon sighed happily, completely relaxed and content.
"Eragon?"
The gruff voice resounded throughout the tent, and Arisia looked in the direction of her uncle's voice instinctively. Looking up at Eragon with her eyes still hiding her true feelings, which Eragon knew even if he didn't know what exactly they were; she walked over to the bed, and perched on top of it gently.
"Come on in, Horst." Eragon called out, still confounded by this new authority over the smith.
Horst walked in quickly, perplexed at his niece's presence. Wearing the weather beaten clothes Eragon had first encountered him in, and with a lather satchel hung over his back, he looked the opposite to his royal niece. His expression soon became one of sorrowful joy.
"So you found your father?" He asked softly.
Eragon noticed Arisia's posture and face stiffen at the mention of Prince Falowing. Sighing she replied;
"I already knew who he was." She replied, her eyes focusing on her silver anklet on her bare ankle. Horst's eyes widened and he stared at his niece in disbelief.
"You never told me you had visions too! I thought it was only Orona!" He said, stammering over his words.
Arisia looked up, her face holding a wry amusement. Slowly getting up, she showed the grace and authority so often showed by her grandmother, Queen Islanzadi.
"My Father is the one who raised me. The one who held me when I cried, the one who put the clothes on my back, the one who supported me though my childhood. The one who loved me. Falowing may be my parent, but it is you who is my father, Elaine my mother, Albriech and Baldor my brothers. You are my family. I swear that I will never forget that..." She said, her eyes shining with both a determination, and pearl tears, one of which had escaped from its brethren, and was falling softly down her satin cheek. She wiped it away gently.
Horst embraced her tightly, enveloping her in arms of warmth, affection and the love of a true father. The speech made Eragon almost sorrowful himself, after finding that Morzan was his own father, but he also felt a connection with Arisia's words. Garrow was his Father. Not the head of the Forsworn. With watery eyes Horst turned to Eragon and looked at him with the respect of a future relative.
"So... you have chosen, eh? I find it hard to believe you have chosen in such a short space of time. These are my nie-..." He frowned and took at deep breath whilst Arisia looked on in confusion. Standing tall, Horst continued. "These are my daughters, and I'll not have them messed around, lad. Rider or not." Arisia smiled softly, and bowed her head. Eragon looked Horst in the eye, and nodded. Many people would now let him take advantage because of what he had become, and it was refreshing to know there were people with such bravery the blacksmith was showing.
"I would never, old friend. This decision is Saphira's as much as it is mine. If I became emotionally attached to someone, her feelings will likewise be engaged." Eragon stated firmly, with both authority and respect.
Horst looked at him square on for a moment, before sighing.
"Very well, Eragon Garrowsson. Arisia, return to the tent. Eragon and I will rejoin you when the legal documentations have been filled out." He instructed, kissing her temple tenderly.
She nodded, turning to leave. Suddenly she stopped, appearing to mentally argue with herself. Breathing in deeply, she turned back to Eragon and pressed her lips to Eragon's cheek. Eragon closed his eyes, and seemed momentarily drunk with euphoria. When he opened his eyes again, he was only in the company of the old blacksmith, who was watching him. Reaching toward him, Horst placed a heavy, rough hand upon his shoulder.
"I believe I already know the answer, but I need to ask you formally. Who did you choose?"