EAGER DOWNFALL
"Eragon—don't you understand? We don't belong together—we can't belong together."
"But— "
"Please, Eragon. I'm begging you. Say no more of this matter, and we will all be for the better."
With that, the slender wisp of an elf disappeared, almost as if in thin air. The scent of crushed pine needles filled the area she had just left behind, and Eragon savored the earthy scent of it for a few brief moments before mulling over the words he had just shared with her.
It hurt—it really did. Arya counted his affection for her as just a silly little boy's infatuation, but Eragon himself believed it to be something different. Arya was the one—he was sure of it, no matter how odd it might sound.
Saphira? He asked, casting his eyes in the direction of the azure colored dragon as she made a fairly graceful landing on the ground beside him. Reaching out to her out of impulse, he brushed his land lightly against a few of her scales, earning him a rather content utterance from the female dragon's vocal chords.
Little one. She greeted him, fixing an eye on him, a look that danced between worry and amusement flickering in it.
Arya… Does she care for me? She can be so strange sometimes—there are times when we get along quite well, yet there are other times when I feel like I don't even know who she is anymore.
Calm your mind, Eragon. You've confused her—that is all.
Confused her?
Just think about it from her point of view. An egg that she's been ferrying around for fifteen years finally hatches to a farm boy—a mere farm boy! Much different from the expectations that everyone in the Varden had… but that is no matter, as you can put the blame of that upon me for choosing you.
Eragon gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Moving on, while you were a farm boy, you were an exceptionally talented one. Everyone, however, welcomed that, as we needed a good, firm start against Galbatorix.
You're just dancing about the subject, aren't you, Saphira? Eragon asked to his dragon, a slight look of impatience very plain on his face.
Very well, Eragon, I shall get to the point. Arya's seen over one hundred years on this earth, and you've spent… let's see… maybe about a fifth of that? If you want to make the argument that age difference doesn't matter, then kindly let us examine the fact that we don't need any distractions in your training—as Arya would surely become if she indeed submitted to your attentions.
But, what if I promised to not let her distract me like that?
It does not work that way, Eragon. Even still, Arya would then become a weak spot for you—a weak link in your chain, if you will. Enemies of yours would seek her out to give information about you, and since I don't think you'd take very well to seeing her tortured again…
Saphira trailed off here, letting Eragon ponder over this for a few moments, letting the tranquil silence of the forest take over.
But, Saphira, what if I don't care about any of that? Eragon asked, still ever persistent in finding answers.
Then you, little one, are absolutely smitten with Arya Svit-kona.
Thanks for the informative piece of information. You've enlightened me greatly. Eragon retorted in a rather sarcastic tone.
You're welcome.
PAGEBREAKxx;;smileyfacesall'round
"Eragon."
Eragon looked up, panting rather heavily from practicing a few (or maybe many) swordsmanship techniques. Rather dysfunctional after spending a while twisting and turning and doing crazy movements with his blade, he felt rather wobbly on his feet, and he stumbled to the right a few paces. A flush instantly spread through his cheeks, but thankfully they were already red from having done athletic work—hopefully that would suffice enough for an excuse.
"Arya," he responded, then proceeded to exchange the few lines of the elfin greeting with her. When those formalities were complete, he waited in silence for Arya to tell him what she was up to, as it was a little awkward at the moment because the two had recently had somewhat of an argument.
"Your swordsmanship has improved," the female elf remarked in a casual tone as if she hadn't told him off earlier, her eyes briefly skirting along the blade that Eragon held.
Taking this as a fair compliment, Eragon nodded in response. He remained quiet for a few moments, as the arrival of Arya had caused him to swallow some of his words. When he was able to shake that off, he finally spoke, hoping that Arya hadn't made a note of his prolonged silence.
"Then, Arya Svit-kona, is it then acceptable for me to request a duel with you?" Eragon asked in a lighthearted tone, turning his gaze directly on to Arya.
"It is, Master Shadeslayer," she responded in turn, her lips curving slightly in to a smile, something that was rather rare for her to give Eragon. Memorizing that moment in his mind, Eragon couldn't help but have a smile of his own come to play on his face.
The two both guarded their blades, ensuring the safety of both of them. When ready, they faced each other in their own ready stances.
Saphira, watching from a distance, decided to take matters of this little duel in to her own claws. Sounding her voice in Arya's mind as well as Eragon's, she stated, Begin dueling on the count of three.
Receiving a nod from both of them, Saphira let a few moments go by with silence. Impatient to get started, Eragon turned his head to Saphira.
"Saphira…" he began to voice aloud.
Three! Came the response all of a sudden.
"Wha—?" Eragon started to ask, but was cut off when he felt the cool metal tip of Arya's sword touch his throat.
"Dead," she said in a breezy tone.
"But—wait—what?" Eragon asked, turning back to Saphira. Saphira, what on earth happened to one and two?
Saphira eyed her Rider with a look that matched the snort of amusement. Eragon, I said on the count of three. I never said I would tell you when the counts of one and two would be counted.
You're hopeless. Eragon growled in answer to his dragon, giving her a slight glare.
Very well. We'll redo this, and this time I'll make it fair.
Good. No more loopholes.
Someone's being a grouch. Saphira teased, earning another glare from Eragon as she continued with her words. Is it because someone wants to show off his sword skills to a certain special someone else?
Eragon was just about to retort to Saphira's words when he heard a quiet cough. Regaining the sense of reality again, he realized that he had left Arya simply standing there while he and Saphira had continued on with their conversation—well, at least Saphira hadn't decided to broadcast it to Arya as well.
"Ah… Yes… Arya, may I ask for a rematch, as I was…" Eragon trailed off here, pondering on how to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible that he hadn't been paying attention when Saphira had called for the duel to begin.
"Not aware?" Arya finished for him wryly, a smile once again tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Nodding as a form of ducking his head in embarrassment, Eragon raised his sword. "Once again, then?" he asked, a rush of relief coming over him as she nodded.
This time, the call to start came much quicker and happened much more smoother.
One… Two… Three! The calls came in a fast succession that Eragon was, this time, ready for.
Arya's first blow was obvious—even still, it had enough agility backing it that Eragon had a little difficulty blocking it. Still, he managed to evade and answered with an intricate parry to her sword before retreating a few paces as he attempted to work out a plan of attack. As she continued attacking him, Eragon set to memorizing each and every habit she had with her sword.
Arya happened to favor attacking from the right more than her left, Eragon noticed as he watched her intently, all the while acting on the defense. From the look on her face, Arya seemed rather confused as Eragon went in to battle simply blocking all her blows. With a note of interest, Eragon saw that a bead of sweat had begun trickling down her face. Impulse made him want to reach out and brush it off, just like he would a tear, but he returned to reality once he saw that Arya was performing many intricate movements—movements that were designed to annoy him, no doubt.
The female elf, having become accustomed now to Eragon simply just dodging her move, made the fatal mistake of becoming just a little too conceited, as Eragon saw when he all of a sudden darted forward with his own attack. His sword slashed in the direction of Arya's left shoulder. Surprised, Arya tried to meet Eragon's sword halfway, but found that it was for no purpose, as Eragon pulled back and spun around at the last minute, moving his sword in a sweeping motion and bringing it to rest on Arya's right shoulder instead.
"Dead," he stated, breathing relatively hard. Even though he had gained a considerable amount of stamina in his past times of training, Eragon still felt somewhat tired right now, as did Arya.
"How true, Master Shadeslayer," Arya remarked, sheathing her sword. "Well fought."
Eragon sheathed his own sword. Finding that he was a little more exhausted than he had originally let on, he by accident lost his balance due to the tiny prick of a pebble that struck out from the ground. Instinctively reaching out for something to regain control of himself so that he didn't end up on the ground, his hand grasped Arya's shoulder. He felt her stiffen then relax as she found that his intentions were just to prevent himself from falling.
"Tired, maybe, Eragon?" Arya asked, another smile playing on her lips—the third one during this whole little training session.
It was true. Fortune was smiling upon Eragon, if he had been gifted with Arya's smile more than once in a simple training session.
"Yes…" Eragon said briefly, looking up and meeting Arya's green gaze head on. He refused the urge to wince; instead he just stared right back. The two remained in this mental headlock for a while longer, a sense of palpable tension mixed in with something else created. What had started out as a friendly glance escalated quickly until Eragon couldn't quite bear it any longer.
Bringing his head down, he captured Arya's lips with his own.
PAGEBREAKxx;;hugsall'round
Haha.
I'm going to torment you with an Author's Note right here. :)
Because I'm evil like that, darling, that's why. C:
Now, what was I going to say in this Author's Note…?
Uhhh…
Dumdeedum…
So how are you doing? Anything new with your life? :o
Really…
Was that a yes or a no?
Please speak up.
;P
Okay, okay, I'm good.
For those of you who didn't decide to just mindlessly scroll past this author's note, I'm releasing you from this torture. ;D
Read on!
PAGEBREAKxx;;pokesall'round
A soft exclamation from Arya reached Eragon's ears, but he continued to persist in this new form of remaining locked together with her. For a faint moment, he felt Arya relax, but she almost immediately tensed. Pulling away from him roughly, the elf gave Eragon a look—a look that contained such a mixture of emotions tangled together that Eragon knew it would be impossible to unravel. With that, Arya darted off with such a sense of grace that Eragon couldn't help but remain captivated for a moment as he watched her.
Ah, little one. Why did you have to do that? Saphira's voice came in a sighing tone as she trained her eyes on him.
I… I don't know… Came the hesitant response from Eragon.
Finally, the full impact of what he had done came crashing down on him. Holding his head in his hands, a quiet muffled cry of anguish was uttered from Eragon as he backed up against a tree.
Oh, Saphira! What on earth is wrong with me? The minute I once again regain Arya's trust and friendship, I just go on ahead and ruin it!
It's all right, Eragon.
No! It's not all right! I should've known better, but in the heat of that stupid moment, what did I decide to do? I decided to kiss her, Saphira! Out of all the things I could've done, I had to do that one little—maybe not so little—thing out of the blue. And on the same day she told me that we could never… be. Eragon finished his words with a rueful glance in the direction of his dragon, looking for guidance.
Eragon, first of all, I have to say: get a grip on yourself.
I've got one, thank you.
Saphira chose to ignore that reply, continuing on. There's this one thing that you humans always have some difficulty doing that can sometimes make everything all right again. It's this one thing that some humans can do more easily than others…
Oh? Eragon asked, sarcastically. And what might that be?
Apologize. Saphira answered as if it were completely simple. Apologize to Arya, and maybe things will work out between you two.
I highly doubt that, Saphira, Eragon answered, but I'll give it a shot.
PAGEBREAKxx;;staresall'round
His pace was slow and steady as he cautiously made his way to where the elf princess was sitting. Pausing for a moment to study her, he saw that she was sitting near the foot of an oak tree, hugging her knees to her chest.
As Eragon moved forward at a stealthy rate, he nearly jumped when a twig snapped underneath his foot. Glancing up, he saw that Arya's head had shot up and she was currently looking around nervously.
"Arya Drottningu," Eragon stated formally, giving a slight bow. He saw her shift uneasily as he addressed her, and she stood up, looking as if she were ready to run again. "Will you hear me out?" he asked, trying to meet her gaze, although her eyes flickered away from him, averting his own gaze.
"What is it you want, Eragon," Arya said dryly. Although her words were those that formed a question, her tone of voice suggested that she was simply making a statement.
Eragon had been preparing a rather elaborate speech to deliver to Arya, a speech that was filled with a cordial sense of his apologies, but he found that the moment he opened his mouth, he forgot all of what he had to say. Instead, he reverted back to a much simpler form of an apology. "I-I'm sorry," he told her, then fell silent as he waited for her reaction.
To his surprise, Arya finally looked up and met his gaze. "You needn't be sorry, Eragon. It isn't your fault that I… I…" She trailed off here, looking away from him, as she wasn't quite sure what she had been about to say.
Eragon had to admit—his interest was indeed perked when he heard the words coming from Arya. Taking a step closer to her, he reached out a hand. This time, it was Arya who gripped his shoulder lightly as she struggled to say something else that would hopefully wash away what she had just said.
"No matter, Arya," Eragon stated, seeing that her hanging sentence had left her somewhat uncomfortable. Her hand still remained on his shoulder, and he found it hard not to then settle in to a position in which, yes, he was somewhat holding her in his arms. Surprise flashed through him when he Arya didn't pull away, although, true, she wasn't exactly acting fully relaxed.
"Eragon—we don't belong together," Arya murmured softly, repeating her argument from earlier. "I would be the downfall of you."
Eragon thought over this for a little while before coming up with his own answer:
"Then, Arya Svit-kona, I'll eagerly accept you as my downfall."