A.N. Here's the chronology of the thing, ok? About sixty-ish years ago, the combined forces of the Varden and the elves stormed and took the citadel of Uru'baen. King Galbatorix was killed, along with Murtagh and Thorn, Islanzadi and a great many others. In the battle, the final egg was destroyed.
Arya was begged by the elves, who loved her dearly, to become queen in her mothers place. She accepted, and worked with Nasuada, Eragon, Orrin, Orik and Jormunder to rebuild the stability of the new Alagaesia following the defeat of the king.
The edunari that Eragon had found in the Vault of Souls (Get it? Bet you anything you like this is what the vault is!) combined their strength and revoked the spell that the first riders had cast uniting the races of dragons, elves and humans, to protect the elves and humans from the consequences of the extinction of the dragons.
Arya was running, her breath coming in gasps and tears stinging her eyes. She knew where she had to be. She knew where he was going. But she didn't know if she had enough time.
He was gone. In some ways she knew it had only been a matter of time… But to leave without saying goodbye? Didn't she mean that much to him?
When had this started? Last week, when a rider on a fast horse had arrived in Gil'ead with the news for Eragon that his cousin was dying. When she had seen him that afternoon, it had shaken her. It was as if all the years had been stripped away. All the experience and the wisdom of the dragon riders were gone. He was a boy again. A scared, sad, lonely boy who wanted his cousin.
"Will you come with me, Arya?" Of course she had said yes. She had said yes at once. He'd needed her. Like he'd needed her back then, back before the Empire had fallen. Like when he was boy… That was just about the biggest thing that had changed about him, the fact that he didn't need her any more.
Saphira had flown them to Carvahall in one day, but it had been too long. They were met at the farmhouse door by Garrow, Roran's eldest son, with tears in his eyes. Roran had died the night before, peacefully. The whole family had gathered in the low-beamed kitchen, but supper that night had been a subdued meal. Arya saw their eyes sweeping over the room again and again, and she knew why. Roran had built this house up from the ground with his own hands.
Urged by the people of Carvahall, Eragon had taken the funeral ceremony. Arya had seen the pain in his eyes and knew he was struggling with memories of another ceremony he had taken, in another place, another age. Roran and Katrina's wedding ceremony. It had been one of the last happy, peaceful days before the final campaign began, steadily, relentlessly crossing the empire, taking Feinstr, Belatona, Dras-Leona… fighting countless small battles along the way, and finally, at long, long last, to Urubaen. They had taken it. Alagaesia had been saved, but at the cost of so, so many lives. So much pain. Arya still struggled herself, and she knew that Eragon would never fully recover. What was it he had said to her once? The stories about the heroes of old never mention that this is the price you pay when you grapple with the monsters of the dark and the monsters of the mind. How right he had been.
They had laid Roran to rest at the back of the farmstead, side by side with Katrina, who had been dead nearly a year. Together in life, together in death. Arya thought Eragon had known when Katrina died that Roran wouldn't have long now, either. He would never linger long if Katrina was no longer beside him, but still… the loss was a bitter one. He was the last piece of Eragon's childhood, and the last of the family he had been close too, and now he was gone.
And ten minutes ago, she had stepped out of the farmhouse and looked around. He was gone. And Saphira too.
Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are.
I had to find you, tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart.
The sun was setting, sending it's dull red rays straight into Arya's eyes as she ran up the steep mountain path. It set the sky over the sea on fire with gold clouds, pink and purples, but tonight Arya couldn't appreciate the beauty of it. It served one purpose, and one purpose only, to show her the way she must run.
What was she going to say if she reached him before they flew away for ever? Tell him she was sorry? For what? She knew exactly what. Her silence. All these years… Ayra bit her lip, and suddenly stopped. She had reached the top of the ridge and stared in sudden quiet at the long path that sloped down away from her, leading to the beach. Her heartbeat intensified, pounding a drum-roll in her ears. He would either be there, or he wouldn't. She set off running, skipping between rocks and dodging the curves of the track.
Rounding a bend, she stopped. The wide expanse of sand spread out before, turned pink by the setting sun. The sea was so calm it might have been a lake, and the dazzle of it made her squint.
But she saw none of it.
He was there.
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions,
Oh lets go back to the start.
Running in circles, Comin' up tails
Heads on a science apart.
As she slowly came to a stop at the edge of the sand, He turned and looked at her. In that one instant, Arya read so much in his face. Consternation, worry, a deep sadness, and finally a settled resignation. Then he smiled. And Arya knew that he would hear whatever she had to say. He would hear, because that was how Eragon was. He would listen to her, and then he would do what ever he was planning to do in the first place.
And she loved him for it. She loved everything about him, the way he stood just looking at her, the way his hair fell over his deep brown eyes, the look about him of not truly being an elf or a human. She loved the way he was inside too, his kindness, his passion for the things – and people – he cared about, his deeply ingrained sense of honor and morality. He had come in to her life at a time when she needed most something settled, something sure, one of the worst times of her life, and he had been that anchor to reality. She had often thought that she would most likely have gone mad, were it not for him. And perhaps the most valuable thing of all, he had taught her to love again.
He didn't say anything, but waited for her to speak. And now she was here the words wouldn't come, she couldn't find the voice to say what had seemed so clear in her mind.
"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" Arya'stone was light, but underneath she could hear the brittleness. It was close to breaking. She knew he heard it too, and he didn't look at her as he replied, turning instead to gaze out to sea.
"I thought it would be easier… for both of us."
"But…" Arya had nothing to say to that. It probably would have been easier.
Saphira tilted her head over Eragon's shoulder, fixing Arya with one huge, fathomless blue eye. Arya. Her voice, quiet and calm, held regret so deep and painful that Arya's pent-up feelings burst out in a choking sob. Saphira. I will miss you.
And I you, little one. More than you know. Be safe. We will never forget you.
And with that, she turned and walked slowly away, down the beach towards the lapping waves, leaving Eragon and Arya standing facing each other.
Nobody said it was easy,
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be this hard.
Why this awkwardness? They had been completely comfortable in each others company for fifty, sixty years, and now neither knew what to say. "Do you…Do you have Gleadr?" Arya asked, not knowing what else to say. Eragon nodded once. He knelt, shrugging of the pack he wore. "Do you want to…?" he held it out to her, a sphere of golden light, its many faces reflecting the setting sun. "Arya took him it in her hands, pressing it to her forehead.
Good bye, Gleadr. From deep within she felt him stirring, reaching out to feel her mind.
Farewell, my child. Remember what we taught you. And then he had retreated again, into the depths of his being. Arya faced Eragon. All there was to say, now had to be said. There would never be another chance. They both knew that.
It was Eragon who broke the silence. "I didn't think… I mean, I knew one day I would go." He said, stumbling a little over the words. Arya nodded once. "Angela's prophecy."
He nodded. "Yes, and… there were other things."
"I know." Arya stared down at the sand beneath her feet. Eragon took a hesitant step forward.
"Do you understand, Arya? I would hate for this to be the way we part. Can't you tell me what is in your heart? Just this once?"
Just this once. The words cut Arya like a knife, but could she tell all now? No. She couldn't. Because she did understand why he had to go. She understood all too well. He had always known, deep down, that he would have to leave. Ever since Angela's prophecy, he had known that he was bound by a force stronger than magic. Destiny shaped their movements, carving out the path of life for them all, no matter how much the elves tried to ignore it. But it was more than that. And the other reason held Arya tongue far more than any fate.
"Saphira" she said quietly. The sapphire dragon would never be happy in Alagaesia alone. She never spoke of her learning for a mate, but Arya knew. And in the final battle had been destroyed every hope for a mate from Galbatorix's remaining egg.
Arya remembered Saphira's despairing cry even more then her own anguish as with his final, desperate breath, the mad king Galbatorix had gasped out the Name of destruction, all his hate and fury channeled at the one thing he could: the race of dragon's, who in his twisted mind had caused all his pain. At the one thing that could destroy them forever, the emerald egg clasped in Eragon's bloodied hand.
That was why Eragon and Saphira had to go. They had to find another land across the sea, or search for evermore. Because Saphira was the last dragon in Alagaesia, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Oh take me back to the start.
"No." she managed finally, the word sounding small and futile. "Because then you couldn't go. And I couldn't do that to her."
Eragon nodded, his eyes searching her face. "Thank you, Arya. I will never forget you."
"Nor I you. You are the best friend I have ever had, Eragon Shadeslayer."
"And there's the other reason." He said, almost to himself.
"What?"
I was just guessin' at numbers and figures,
Pulling the puzzles apart.
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart.
His steady brown eyes found hers, and held them. "You know what, Arya. I don't want to be just your friend. I was content with it once, but… I can't go on like this forever. You know that, don't you?"
"I…" there was nothing to say. Should she tell him she loved him? She would never get another chance, but… to come to this decision had taken him a long time. He had to go, if not for himself, for Saphira. And to love Eragon meant to love Saphira.
"Why did it have to be so complicated, Arya?" Eragon asked suddenly, jerking Arya out of her thoughts.
"What?" Arya heart was aching, a dull, painful ache. She wondered if it would ever heal fully.
"Complicated. Battles and campaigns and not being distracted. Why didn't we just live every day as it came while we could?" The tears were starting up again. She couldn't help it; he had spoken into her deepest heart and overturned all the pain there, all the regret. Because now it was too late.
"Don't you ever wish you could go back and do everything again?" Eragon's voice had sunk to a whisper. Arya nodded, the lump in her throat to big to speak. Instead she stepped forward. The space between them was now tiny.
Eragon bent his head to look at her. He sighed, a deep sigh of regret, but when he spoke, his voice had settled a little. "Angela told me once, I had many paths ahead of me, but only one would bring me happiness."
Arya looked up at him, and saw the tears shining in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that… I must have taken the wrong one."
And then the tears fell.
And tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start.
Runnin' in circles, Chasin' tails
Comin' back as we are
There was nothing more to say, nowhere else to go, nothing more to be done. There had always been something to do. Now there was just a final farewell to be said. But Arya couldn't say it. She was crying for real now, diamond tears tracing snails trail patterns on her cheeks. Memories were pushing in on her, the time she had spent with Eragon in Ellesmira, in the desert, all the times they had shared during the campaign, those rare moments of laughter when she could forget the pain and fear that surrounded them, and become once again the girl she had been before she ever left Ellesmira, or touched the web of darkness that the king spread around him. Why can't we go back then? See all that we saw, do all that we did? Why does it have to end this way?
"Arya…" Eragon tried, but his voice trailed off, so he took her in his arms instead, clasping her shoulders, as his own tears began to fall and wet her shoulders. Gradually the sobs that racked her body faded into a quiet stillness.
She pulled back and looked him straight in the face. "Good bye, Eragon Shadeslayer."
He bowed, calmly, solemnly, courteously, the last Dragon rider of Alagaesia paying his farewells to the queen of the elves.
"Arya, Shadeslayer. Farewell."
He was looking at her in an odd way, as if trying to gauge her mood. "What is it, Eragon?" she asked quietly.
"You know… You know I will always love you, Arya?" he looked at her like a boy with his first sweetheart, scared, insecure. Arya nodded. She stepped forward and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his.
"I know."
He kissed her then, just once. And after a moment, she kissed him back. Just one kiss, on a deserted beach west of the spine, alone save for a silent sapphire dragon standing where the surf met the sand. A kiss of regret, a wish for something that might have been.
And then he was gone.
Nobody said it was easy,
Oh it's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard.
Arya saw him mount Saphira and saw her rise into the air, pushing a great arc of sand away from her hindquarters. She saw them hover for a moment above the sea, saw the dip of Saphira's wings as she turned, and stood still and small on the empty beach, staring out to sea until dragon and rider were a distant speck, as the sun sank below the horizon.
And as the top of the huge red sun disappeared, at last they were gone. A single tear fell off Arya's cheek, landing in the sand, and she turned to go. He was gone, and she would never see him again.
I'm going back to the start.
Of course, this isn't the way it will be. The green egg will hatch for Arya, and then she and Eragon will leave together. But Angela said that he had many paths, and only one would bring him happiness. So this is what might have happened if he'd taken the wrong one, and made the wrong choice at some point.
