Arabella, a Twilight and Eragon Crossover
By Akasha Ptolemy
Rated: M
Pairings: Alice/Bella, Carlisle/Esme, Emmett/Rosalie, Edward/Jasper, Arya/Nasuada
Summary: This story is essentially just Eragon but with Bella as Shadeslayer, and the Cullens come into the dimension of Alagaësia to help destroy Galbatorix. Bella and Alice will be mates. By the way, I may follow the book's words sometimes throughout.
Disclaimer: I own neither Twilight nor the Inheritance Cycle. I do own this idea and any OC's though.
A/N: This takes place before Twilight and when Eragon went to Ellesméra in "Brisingr" to talk with Oromis and get a sword. Also, Bella is a hermaphrodite; if you have a problem, don't read! Enjoy!
Bella's POV
On the fourth day after leaving Farthen Dûr, Saphira and I arrive in Ellesméra. There are no clouds blocking the radiant sun when the first of the city's buildings—a narrow, twisting turret with shimmering windows that stands between three tall pine trees and is grown out of their entwined branches—come into my sight. Beyond that turret of bark, I spot the ambiguous collection of clearings that is the sprawling city.
As Saphira planes over the uneven surface of the forest, I quest with my mind for that of Gilderien the Wise, who, as the wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, has protected Ellesméra from the elves' enemies for over two and a half millennia. Sending my thoughts toward the city, I say in the ancient language, Gilderien-elda, may we pass?
A deep, calm voice sounds in my head. You may pass, Arabella Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales. So long as you keep the peace, you are welcome to stay in Ellesméra.
Thank you, Gilderien-elda, says Saphira.
Her claws brush the crowns of the dark-needled trees, which rise over three hundred feet off the ground, as she glides across the pinewood city and heads toward the slope of inclined land on the other side of Ellesméra.
/Time Skip/
I sit in front of my mentor while Saphira lies beside Glaedr on the grass a few feet from us.
I roll a scarlet plum between my palms. "Do you know of Elva and what happened when I tried to free her of my curse?"
"Yes, even that. You may not have succeeded in removing the whole of the spell from her, but you paid your debt to the child, and that is what a Dragon Rider is supposed to do: fulfill her or his obligations, no matter how small or difficult they be."
"She still feels the pain of those around her."
"But now it is by her own choice," says Oromis. "No longer does your magic force it upon her... You did not come here to seek my opinion concerning Elva. What is it that weighs upon your heart, Arabella? Ask what you will, and I promise I shall answer all of your questions to the best of my knowledge."
"What," say I, "if I don't know the right questions to ask?"
A twinkle shows in Oromis's gray eyes. "Ah, you begin to think like an elf. You must trust us as your mentors to teach you and Saphira those things of which you are ignorant. And you must also trust us to decide when it is appropriate to broach those subjects, for there are many elements of your training that should not be spoken of out of turn."
I place the plum in the precise center of the tray, then in a quiet but firm voice say, "It seems as if there is much you have not spoken of."
For a moment, the only sounds are the rustle of branches and the gurgle of the stream and the chatter of the distant squirrels. I begin to wonder if he ever shall answer me as I look directly at my revered mentor. I love and appreciate both he and Glaedr, but I cannot help but feel as if they had known of my lineage and birthright. Plus, I am missing something that could cause a catalyst to Galbatorix's downfall.
If you have a quarrel with us, Arabella, says Glaedr, then give voice to it and do not gnaw on your anger like a dry old bone.
Saphira shifts her position, and I imagine I hear a growl from her. I glance at her, and then, fighting to control the emotions coursing through me, I ask, "When I was last here, did you know who my father was?"
Oromis nods once. "We did."
"And did you know that Murtagh is my brother?"
Oromis nods once more. "We did, but—"
"Then why didn't you tell me!" I exclaim, and jump to my feet, knocking over my chair. I pound my fist against my hip, stride several feet away, and stare at the shadows within the tangled forest. Whirling around, my anger swells as I see that Oromis appears as calm as before. "Were you ever going to tell me? Did you keep the truth about my family a secret because you were afraid it would distract me from my training? Or was it that you were afraid I would become like my father?" A worse thought occurs to me in that moment. "Or did you not even consider it important enough to mention? And what of Brom? Did he know? Did he choose Carvahall to hide in because of me, because I was the daughter of his enemy? You can't expect me to believe it was coincidence he and I happened to be living only a few miles apart and that Arya just happened to send Saphira's egg to me in the Spine."
"What Arya did was an accident," asserts Oromis. "She had no knowledge of you then."
I grip the pommel of my dwarf sword, every muscle in my body as hard as steel. "When Brom first saw Saphira, I remember he said something to himself about being unsure whether 'this' was a farce or a tragedy. At the time, I thought he was referring to the fact that a girl and a common farmer like myself had become the first new Rider in over a hundred years. But that's not what he meant, was it? He was wondering whether it was a farce or a tragedy that Morzan's youngest daughter should be the one to take up the Riders' mantle!
"Is that why you and Brom trained me, to be nothing more than a weapon against Galbatorix so that I may atone for the villainy of my father? Is that all I am to you, a balancing of the scales?" Before Oromis can respond, I swear and say, "My whole life has been a lie! Since the moment I was born, no one but Saphira has wanted me: not my mother, not Garrow, not Aunt Marian, not even Brom. Brom showed interest in me only because of Morzan and Saphira. I have always been an inconvenience. Whatever you think of me, though, I am not my father, nor my brother, and I refuse to follow in their footsteps." Placing my hands of the edge of the table, I lean forward. "I'm not about to betray the elves or the dwarves, or the Varden to Galbatorix, if that's what you are worried about. I will do what I must, but from now on, you have neither my loyalty nor my trust. I will not—"
The ground and the air shakes as Glaedr growls, his upper lip pulling back to reveal the full length of his fangs. You have more reason to trust us than anyone else, hatchling, he says, his voice thunderous in my mind. If not for our efforts, you would be long dead.
Then, before I can snap at him, to my surprise, Saphira says to Oromis and Glaedr, Tell her, and it alarms me to feel the distress in her thoughts.
Saphira? I ask, puzzled. Tell me what?
She ignores my question. This arguing is without cause. Do not prolong Arabella's discomfort any longer.
One of Oromis's slanted eyebrows rises. "You know?"
I know.
"You know what?" I bellow, on the verge of tearing my sword from its sheath and threatening all of them until they explain themselves.
With one slim finger, Oromis points toward the fallen chair. "Sit." When I remain standing, too angry and full of resentment to obey, Oromis sighs. "I understand this is difficult for you, Arabella, but if you insist upon asking questions and then refuse to listen to the answers, frustration will be your only reward. Now, please sit, so we can talk about this in a civilized manner."
Glaring ragingly, I right the chair and drop back onto it. "Why?" I ask. "Why didn't you tell me that my father was Morzan, the first of the Forsworn?"
"In the first place," says Oromis, "we shall be fortunate if you are more like your father, which, indeed, I believe you are. And, as I was about to say before you interrupted me, Murtagh is not your brother, but rather your half brother."
The world seems spin around me; the sensation of vertigo is so different from flight and so intense, that I must grab the edge of the table to steady myself. "My half brother… But then who…?"
Oromis plucks a blackberry from a bowl, contemplates it for a moment, and then eats it. "Glaedr and I did not wish to keep this a secret from you, but we had no choice. We both promised, with the most binding of oaths, that we would never reveal to you the identity of your father or of your half brother, nor discuss your lineage, unless you had discovered the truth on your own or unless the identity of your relatives had placed in danger. What transpired between you and Murtagh during the Battle of the Burning Plains satisfies enough of those requirements that we can now speak freely on this topic."
Trembling with barely restrained emotion, I say, "Oromis-elda, if Murtagh is my half brother, then who is my father?"
Look into your heart, Arabella, says Glaedr. You already know who he is, and you have known for a long time.
I shake my head, frantically. "I don't know! I don't know! Please…"
A gust of smoke and flame jets from Glaedr's nostrils as he snorts. Is it not obvious? Your father is Brom.
A/N: I hope no one minds too terribly that I'm borrowing parts from "Eragon". My own dialogue and situations is coming up once the Cullens get to Alagaësia. Well, I hope everybody liked this. Whether or not you did, I'd like to know your opinions. Please review if you read, even if only for this first chapter, so that I can know what you all think. On another note, I will continue Cold One and Star Tiger, but I find that working on more than one story places something in the waits for another chapter on a different story. Plus, I really couldn't help myself with this idea; it was too insistent!
A/N2: I had to go back and change/add some things.
