Night the First: The Beginning of the Beginning
When her nightly reading session was rudely interrupted by a somewhat loud knock on her chamber door, Arya immediately assumed the worst. She could sense a familiar presence coming from whoever it was behind that door (someone who was evidently an idiot-you'd have to be, to leave your mind virtually unprotected like that). Extremely miffed by the late visitor, she strode over and yanked the door open in, like, three tenths of a second, being an elf and all.
Her visitor, who had been leaning on the door, promptly fell over in an ungainly manner at her feet. He was a little slower than an average elf in getting up (two and a half hundredths of a millisecond), and definitely much less elegant. Arya simply watched with that permanently indifferent expression of hers, though her perfect mask slipped for a nanosecond when she glimpsed the visitor's face.
"Eragon?"
He blinked, nodded. "That would be me, yes. And, of course, Saphira-" he motioned to a massive blue scaly form behind him-"who, of course, accompanied me here to Ellesmèra. I mean, she flies at, I don't know, three hundred thousand miles per hour or something."
"Right. But-"
Arya was prevented from saying whatever she'd been planning to say by a slightly smaller, equally scaly green mass that bowled her over in his hurry to tackle Saphira. The blue dragon ended up in a rather awkward position, with Fìrnen licking her all over like an oversized, overexcited dog. Sapphy! Ohmynonexistentgods, you're here! Here! In Ellesmèra! Have you come to see me? Do we have any, y'know, offspring since last time yet?
The two Riders glanced at one another, clearly embarrassed. Eragon nervously cleared his throat. "Um, actually, Fìrnen, she was just my mode of transport here."
Saphira nodded her agreement. He wanted to visit Arya. At a glare from Eragon, she added, And, erm, check up on the status on the land and stuff. It's not like Alagaësia has its own Facebook page yet. Extremely inconvenient, having to travel all the way here when you can just post. Ah well, at least it was only a two-hour flight.
Oh. Fìrnen sat back. But you haven't answered my question. Did we have any eggs? What colour are they? Are we going to, you know...
As one, Eragon and Arya shut the door on their dragons and faced one another in the relative privacy of Arya's quarters. Blocking out their partners-of-heart-and-mind didn't take long-Fìrnen was beginning to be a bit... turned on, something neither Rider wanted to hear or see. This time, it was Arya who interrupted the silence by clearing her throat. "So, Eragon... what brings you here, really?"
The said elf-human hybrid turned pink to the tips of his ears. He strolled over abruptly to Arya's bed and picked up the book she'd been reading: 1000 Bedtime Stories by a certain Angela the Herbalist. "I didn't know you liked stories."
Crossing her arms defensively, Arya replied, "Well, I do. Don't change the subject. Why'd you fly all the way here just to check up on the land? And you're wrong-I mean, Saphira's wrong-about Alagaësia not having a Facebook page. It's been up since we elves got the Internet up and running, practically." Her fierce green stare turned accusing.
Eragon mumbled something stupid about not searching in the right place. Arya rolled her eyes, which only turned his ear-tips a bright red. "Honestly, Eragon, you're not thick-well, not very-and neither am I. You're not here for Alagaësia's sake, are you?" Crimson darkened to a deep maroon at her words. "Please tell me you're not-oh, sweet Galbatorix, you're here to beg me to be your mate again, aren't you?"
His blush more than gave him away. "Well," she sighed, "alright."
Eragon blinked, all colour disappearing from his face. "Wait, what? You'll be my mate? Just like that?"
"It would be a complete waste of your time flying here if I didn't." Arya shrugged as if she couldn't care less. "Why, is something wrong?"
"Yes, actually!" Eragon was starting to turn pink once more for an entirely different reason. "I mean, Christopher Paolini would never let me have you that easily! He's been dragging out our so-called 'romance' throughout the series! I have to do something to earn your affection and undying love and all first, or millions of readers will complain!"
"I'm impressed." Arya nodded her approval of her new sort-of-mate's reasoning. "Wise words, Argetlam. I suppose, in exchange for my suddenly becoming your mate, you could tell me stories."
"Stories?" Eragon held up the book. "Like these?"
"Yep, only don't make them as mysterious as Angela's. And you'll have to tell me a thousand of them, for interrupting my reading."
Grinning, he replied, "Ill do better than that, Arya. I'll tell you a thousand and one stories. Sounds good?"
"Since I'm at the receiving end of this particular bonus, yes, very okay."
"Well then, what are we waiting for?"
Arya sighed. "First of all, we could get in bed."
The girlish blush returned to his ears (really, what is with CP making him turn red so often?). "Good point. Well, then," he began as they promptly hopped into Arya's conveniently wide four-poster bed, "tonight's story takes place... tonight, actually. You see, there were these two dragons..."