Pain. It was all Arya knew for the past several months of her existence. Every moment seemed to extend itself over a longer period of time than it should. Even worse than the pain is the utter hopelessness that had engulfed her after she realized there was no escape. When she had been captured she had fought as hard as she could, using all her elven strength to demolish the cell the foul beast Durza had locked her in. But it was to no avail. The walls were impregnated with spells of strength, her magic was lost to her as a result of the drug forced upon her every morning, and no animal capable of carrying a message dared stray close to the stone building reeking of misery and death. Over time, the hopelessness overtook her as her energy ebbed. It became all Arya could do to take her next breath to continue surviving while Durza demonstrated his wrath upon her body.
Many times she questioned her motive for surviving. Surely there was no chance of escape, lest someone rescued her. But who? Glenwing and Faolin were dead, victims of Durza's black magic. Her mother had disowned her, and the Varden was accustomed to her disappearing for long lengths of time. No one knew of her disappearance, and she was sure evidence of her companions were hidden far from where one of her kin might discover it. There was also no love in her life. If Faolin had survived… perhaps she would be living for him. He was her companion, and her only friend she could confide her troubles to. But Faolin was dead, and no amount of love would return him to life. Arya's heart ached when she reflected on the times she longed to admit her love to Faolin but didn't have the courage.
Durza gave her not a day's respite. It was because of this fact that Arya was not surprised when the door to her cell opened on that fateful day, but to her astonishment a young man stood in place of the demon she had been expecting.
Arya surveyed the boy, and it was the look on his face that told her he was not sent to harm her. His eyes were so warm, filled with compassion, and his expression was horrified by her plight. She knew that her rescue would have to be swift to avoid Durza, thus the antidote to the poison in her veins would not be an option. She then gave herself to her pain, allowing exhaustion to draw her into a state of half awareness. She could feel magic again in that state, and mentally uttered the words of the Ancient tongue that would keep her in an almost comatose state. She was not free from the pain, but knew that she had found her reason for living.
After Arya had talked with the boy, Eragon, hopelessness threatened to engulf her once again. Every moment she doubted the human's speed, feeling the poison burn though her veins in a rate which was slowly increasing. She could feel her pulse alternately racing then crawling as her body was wracked with seizures and fevers. Many times she contemplated waking and tell him the secrets meant for the Varden before it was too late, but each time she talked herself out of it. She knew that, being so close to rescue, she could always hold on for just a little longer.
She eventually became aware of a bitter fluid being poured down her throat, the wetness warm on her neck when her body initially rejected the drink. The pourer persevered, and eventually the fluid made its way into her body.
The pain was slow to react, but when the fire decreased in her veins by a minicule amount she was aware immeadiately. There was only one explanation for the change: Eragon had succeeded. The unlikelyness of her rescue was so absolute that Arya wondered if she was imagining the change. But then, the pain lessened again. Arya could feel the Tunivors Nectar making its way into her veins, cooling and soothing the fire of the poison. She became overwhelmed by joy and relief, monitoring the pain as it lessened and lessened until it was no more than a dull ache in her heart.
She could wait no longer, she was tired of her comatose state that remeinded her of nothing but pain and agony. She whispered for herself to awake in the Ancient language, and at once her eyes flew open.
As soon as she awakened, the ache in her heard exploded into a wall of agony that swept away any joy of her rescue. Her companions were dead. Not just her compainions, but her love, Faolin. He was gone forever and she would never be able to admit her love for him. Arya began to wail and keen, her voice thin and cracked from the torture her body had endured.
She was aware of the babbling of others in the background, but could not work her way past the wall of sadness that overwhelmed her. Every emotion she had suppressed under Durzas care battered her constantly, making her unable to do anything other than to cry and wail in a futile attempt to rid the agony from her heart.
Eventually she exhausted herself, and slipped into her first natural and painless sleep in nearly half a year.
Arya was aware of peace inside her when she awoke. The agony was still a thorn in her heart, but was manageable at last. She opened her eyes to view the ruffled red canopy of the bed she was lying in, and heard a quiet intake of breath as someone acknowledged the fact that she was awake.
Arya turned her head on the soft white pillow. In front of her sat Nasuada, a book laid forgotten in her lap and a look of uncertainty on her face. Arya realized that she was afraid of another emotional outburst.
"Kvetha Fricai." Arya murmured to her. A look of relief passed across Nasuada's face at this.
"Arya." Nasuada said gently. "How are you feeling?"
"… better now." she whispered in the rough human tongue. "I am at the Varden?"
"Yes." Nasuada smiled gently. "The dragon rider Eragon brought you here. You were in rough shape, but he risked his own life to ensure that you received care immediately even before we knew of his identity."
The words dragon rider echoed in Arya's ears. "Tell me, Nasuada, of what colour the dragon's scales are." she whispered. The fate of the egg she transported blindly had haunted her constantly during her time with Durza.
Nasuada seemed taken aback at this question. "Saphira is sapphire blue." she replied, and at this Arya closed her eyes in contentment. She knew the exact shade of blue the dragon was, for how often had she marveled at the beautiful hue of the egg at the side of a campfire with Faolin and Glenwing beside her. Her heart gave a small jolt of pain at this thought, but the pain soon ebbed away in the relief of the eggs fate.
"Arya? What's wrong?" Nasuada asked anxiously at the sight of the grimace on Aryas face. Arya opened her eyes, and graced the young woman with her first true smile since Faolin's death.
"I am fine, Nasuada." Arya replied. "The egg my companions and myself sacrificed ourselves for is safe, and has hatched into the first true hope for Alagaësia since the fall of the riders. I am absolutely fine."
AN: this was something I'd always wanted to write. Paolini needs to start writing from Aryas point of view. Review please!