May You Be Happy
"Saphira!" Eragon screamed with his voice and his mind and wretched over the side of his cot when he did not receive an answer yet again.
Arya was there, still there, sitting over him and supporting him as he wretched again.
The tightness that had never left Eragon's chest in the week since Saphira's death suddenly grew even more excruciating as Eragon remembered how Saphira was always there for him and how he could have possibly done more defending her in the great hall of Urû'baen.
"I am so sorry," he choked, over and over. He couldn't breathe, in his conscious mind he knew he had the ability to control this attack of terror, but his sub-conscious was dominant now and it caused his heart to burn and tear and his breathing to stop randomly.
He had run away from the Varden shortly after their supposed victory at Urû'baen to Leona Lake, where he and Saphira had been their happiest; diving and playing in the water while Brom was still alive on their way to Dras-Leona.
Every sunrise on his journey made him think of how the copious blood made Saphira's scales glisten with even more crimson than Thorn's. About how he couldn't stop it.
He had abandoned the thoughts of how joyful he had been playing with her on the lake and only remembered her excitement. The only times he smiled in the last week was when remembering something that had given Saphira pleasure. Eragon had tried to think of a time when he was happy before her but found it impossible to recollect.
He had run away to the lake to die, not the way a dog or cat would to spare its master the pain of seeing its death. Eragon had run away because of the wild, impossible idea that if he came here to die he might just see Saphira before the end.
However when he arrived he found the moonlight rippling on the water made a poor imitation of his lost half. Eragon knew he was bordering on the very brink of madness but he did not care.
In perfect silence he began to walk.
Just as Eragon's head slipped under the dark, still waters of Leona lake intent on letting the void take him and everything coming to a close, Arya had arrived. Eragon did not expect to exit the lake while the half of his heart that still remained was beating and so it took his brain a moment to realise his body was still alive.
She had dragged him out of the lake while Eragon didn't even try to hinder or help her as either one was too much effort.
Arya had carried him to a merchant camp not far away and commandeered one of their tents. They had left a few hours later in the pale light and moist morning air of the lake.
Arya scryed the Varden and told them to bring Glaedr's Eldunarí in hope that he could comfort; nay, save Eragon. They were due to arrive after the break of day that coming morning and Arya was doing her best to simply stop Eragon from closing his eyes.
She was ever present in Eragon's mind for his loss and pain was so great they had the power to ease him into the void if she did not fight them for him. Indeed Eragon was intent on helping them and had tried on occasion when Arya had lost focus due to exhaustion.
If it weren't for Arya's presence in his mind to resist the urges he would have already slipped away. Arya had already lost Fäolin and her mother and could not lose Eragon now too, she would not allow it.
Being so close to Eragon's boundless despair meant Arya was struggling, and failing, to control her own emotions and she wept constantly with Eragon. In the last day however Eragon had not shed a tear for the loss had become deep-rooted enough that it only alternated between the two emotions of despair and wretchedness.
This had led her to the despicable act of using his true name to command his obedience. But to her hopeless expectance, it had changed the moment Eragon comprehended Saphira was lost to him. Arya had tried to fathom his new true name in the briefest of pauses she had while caring for him, an impossible task she had found.
"Air. . . I have no air," Eragon murmured brokenly as he raised his head from over the side of the cot and gazed at Arya's green eyes while feebly attempting to swing his legs onto the floor.
Arya nodded and quickly helped him rise and guided him to the flap of the tent, her fingers laced through his and her other hand gripping his arm.
When they were outside Arya let him go and Eragon gasped for what breath he could between the sobs and tremors that racked his body. When he took in the deepest breath he could he looked up a fraction before exhaling. Suddenly his panic started to ever so slowly melt away as he gazed at the stars on the horizon above the lake before looking up to see the rest.
Gazing up his agony became muted just like all the colours of the world had been muted since Saphira's death, but apparently not the stars. No, by some means they shined with brilliance he had never seen of them before.
They are trying their best to imitate you, partner-of-my-heart-and-mind.
He smiled faintly, knowing Saphira would have been pleased by the compliment.
Eragon remembered how much Saphira loved the mysticism of the night sky and how they had flown together countless times in it. He thought of her happiness even as his back hit the hard soil, releasing dust in all directions from under him.
"Eragon, no!" Arya cried for she felt in her heart through their link that he had obtained the power to overrule her.
"Eragon, I don't have the power to save you, but I need you to know that if you stay I want us to be together," she told him again like she had every hour she was tending to him. She was telling the truth and not simply lying to give Eragon something to live for.
With the panic gone and the agony feeling as if it was seeping out of his body and into the ground beneath him it was the first time Eragon had truly heard her say this. He tore his gaze from the heavens and peered into Arya's desperate eyes; with a voice stronger than Arya had heard since he lost Saphira he asked," What would Saphira want?"
He seemed oblivious to the answer Arya shouted at him and contemplated the question himself more completely than ever before. She would want me to live he thought, of that he was certain, but he knew she would also want him to be happy and that was the last thing he was now. "Could I be again?" he unknowingly asked aloud.
Arya knew he was asking the question of himself and did not answer. Instead she clung to his tunic and stared at his unblinking eyes. Over and over she said to him, "I love you . . . I love you". Every time she said it softer and softer until she barely whispered it; all the while staring at the faint light in his eyes. They had been getting dimmer every day.
They held that position for an age as Eragon contemplated with the stars. Suddenly he blinked and tore his gaze to her and whispered painfully slowly, "Arya . . . I am sorry".
Although he said it so softly she could barely hear it, it struck her more powerfully than a thunderbolt. She saw there was nothing more she could do except hold on to the little hope she was forcing to linger. But she knew that hope and reality were enemies.
Eragon cupped the left side of her face with his silvery hand. It too had dulled more each day. Arya leant into his hand, feeling its faint warmth and infinite tenderness.
Eragon openly stared at her face and took in every single detail; his shudders had stopped now for he was focused on what had to be said.
"Sé ono waíse ilia. Mourn me if you must but please do not ponder endlessly on my death . . . I am sorry I am not stronger."
Arya gripped his tunic even tighter, trying to hold his spirit down so it could not leave her. Eragon's hand gently wiped away the tears traversing her cheeks before placing it on her left hand with a gentleness stronger than her fierceness.
Arya leant down and kissed him. It was something she had longed to do for ages as a physical act to show her love for him. It was the last thing Eragon felt.
"No!" Arya howled as she saw the light in his eyes was no longer his, but came from the stars above that Eragon could no longer see.