AN: Hey everyone! Okay, so this isn't my first story I've ever written, I've written a few times before but I didn't know where those stories were going, and to be honest, they weren't the best pieces of work.
I know this chapter is short, I plan to make longer chapters, but this is just the intro to the story. If you have any questions, leave a review. Constructive criticism would also be helpful. That's all for now, reviews would be nice! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Yes Christopher Paolini owns the Inheritance Cycle Yahddy Dhoo Dahh…
To Ilirea!
The wind whipped at Arya's face, which in turn made her hair cascade around her, which was rather annoying. She ducked lower into the saddle, trying to avoid the relentless wraith of the wind.
Firnen and herself were heading to Ilirea, to attend the one hundredth year anniversary of Galbatroix's defeat, and thus the beginning of a new age. She was particularly excited, not because of the upcoming party, but because there was rumours going around that Eragon and Saphira would attend the party themselves, due to the significance of it.
The celebration occurred once every decade, and the leaders of every race were expected to come, but not once had Eragon came, he always sent other Riders in his steed. She understood that he could supposably never return to Alagaesia, but it still hurt to know that those other riders could have possibly been Eragon. She missed him dearly, and they hadn't been in contact for ninety odd years now. There was letters, but never any face to face interactions, she understood, it would be too painful.
"Do not dwell in such memories, small one", came the deep, comforting voice of her dragon, Firnen. The mighty dragon flapped his wings hard, twice, gaining altitude that he had previously lost, due to the shifty winds of the Hadarac Desert.
Arya shivered, quickly muttering a spell to shield her from the chilly air. She gazed up at the bright white stars for a while, admiring their beauty.
"Do you think one of the Dragon Riders will be them?"
Firnen seemed to make a scoffing noise within his throat, which sounded quite strange. "They have never visited before, why would they now?"
She let his question go unanswered, before he added "And besides, you know as well as I that Eragon-Lead-Rider said that they could never return." Arya sensed his disappointment as he said this, and it mirrored her own perfectly.
Arya gazed out across the land, trying to take her mind of solemn thoughts. They had just passed Bullridge, and were perhaps a few hours flight from reaching Ilirea. They had planned to get there at dawn, as the celebrations would start the next day when the sun set.
Her thoughts started to drift again, and when they did, they always seemed to end up at a place she loved yet resented at the same time. Eragon.
She had often wondered if she had made the right choice by declining Eragon's offer, her reign as Queen had so far been unpleasant, and she was starting to tire from it. She also felt extremely guilty about keeping Firnen away from the members of his race, he of coarse said he didn't mind, but she could sometimes feel his deep yearning to be with other dragons.
A sudden thought struck her.
"What if I were to resign the throne?"
"What! That's preposterous Arya!" He snorted, hot smoke coming out of his nostrils, which streamed down his neck and over her. She coughed heavily for several seconds, her eyes smarting.
"Firnen! You know I hate it when you do that!"
A deep rumbling sound projected from his throat, which indicated his amusement. "I'm sorry; I forget how sensitive you two-legs are sometimes."
She scratched the scales on the base of his neck, accepting his apology. He hummed in response, a deep, soothing sound that always put her mind at ease.
"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, you know as well as I that all of the elf lords and ladies want me to resign, they just don't have the courage to say it, they think that I'm too powerful, and the truth is, I am."
"Hush Arya," came Firnen's reassuring voice, "This isn't a decision to be made quickly, take your time, for we have plenty of it."
"You're right" was her response.
"Oh dear Arya, when have I ever not been right?" was his smug reply.
Arya laughed, feeling a lot happier. "Oh shut it you overgrown lizard."
She could feel Firnen's body vibrate as he laughed in amusement, and a smile has found its way onto her face. These were the moments that Arya truly loved and cherished, being alone with her dragon, away from all of the stress and pressure which were the result of being a Queen.
Her thoughts once again turned back to Eragon, and a particular memory started to replay in her mind, it was when they had exchanged their true names, it was one of her most sacred memories. It was a sad memory, but also joyful, to realise that Eragon and herself had that much trust in each other, after only knowing each other for about two years, while others took decades, even centuries to form that bond of trust. She wondered if his true name had changed, and she came to the conclusion that it probably had.
Her musings were disturbed by Firnen's voice. "So, my little elf, would you do me the honour of playing me in a game of riddles?"
"Why offcourse, my big silly dragon" was the reply he got.
Time Lapse…
"Arya, wake up, we are closing in upon Ilirea!" Firnen's excited statement brought her out of her dream like state. Indeed, Ilirea was only a few miles away, and the rising sun, which was just starting to make its way over the horizon, gave the city a stunning glow, illuminating it in its striking golden-red rays. She could hear the birds waking up, their voices colouring the air.
Arya smiled at the beauty of everything, realizing just how lucky she was to witness such a site on the back of a dragon. Firnen seemed to grunt in agreement, and he pumped his wings faster, eager to get into the city, where food and sleep awaited, and hopefully, an old friend.