Night had fallen once again. He looked at the wall to his left. The marks he made on the wall slowly faded away from his negligence of it. He did not even know how long he was here. Where? That was unknown. The days began to blur together, he was Manilov's guinea pig of sorts. He would practice different types of torture on him.
The door creaked open and those malicious eyes fixed on him.
"Good, you look fairly well today. We should try something new."
He flinched in anticipation.
"One of the soldiers here came with a new cut on his face. He told us he got it from shaving. We obtained one of these blades. Sharp little bastards, aren't they?"
A shining metal glinted in his eyes.
"You are growing too much hair. You need it cut…and more."
The Shade stepped closer and brought the blade down over his skin. The Rider screamed in pain. It was brought down even harder, leaving a patch of his face skinless. He was being skinned alive.
"You have such a pretty face. We want it."
Again the blade came down his face and another long strip of his skin fell to the ground. His chest was covered in blood falling from the raw insides in his face. The blade moved up to his forehead. The tortured boy turned man let a blood-curdling scream. And his captor merely laughed.
"Pity you don't have more face for us."
The small razor raked across his back, leaving a strip the width of his torso on the ground. A few more times, a few more strips.
"Perhaps we should have been neater with it back here. Ah, well. Practice makes perfect. We still have the front, do we not?"
The Shade punched him in the stomach and he let out a grunt as he tried to control the pain.
"We have always wanted to see what muscles look like."
The man clashed against his chains, violently trying to get away. This was not torture, this was…there was no word for this. Not that he could remember, anyway.
The blade came forcefully down across his chest and abdomen several times.
"You know, this pain is not even enough for me. We want more."
The Shade called a few soldiers from the outside.
"Hold his legs apart, and pull it straight for us."
They followed his command and the Rider could only thrash around for so long. Just as he expected, the blade was brought straight down his member, skinning him. He didn't know who could hear him, but he knew the temporary silence in the dungeon was because of his screaming. Blood cascaded down from his body, not leaving a morsel of his tan skin tan. It dried and cracked on his body and he couldn't even tell his skin color…the skin that was left anyway. The Shade placed an orb outside the dungeon, ensuring he had enough blood to survive, instead of healing him.
Deep breaths raked him. He knew that the Shade was not done, these were only the beginning of the experiments. The cold damp air pierced his skin, and soon all he could feel was numb. His blood slowly changed from a river to molasses, slowing oozing out as it semi froze in the ice box he was placed in.
He, however, grateful for the pain numbing because of the cold. He closed his eye, letting the barriers around his mind unblock himself from his own memories…the real and the fantasies. He pictured a raven haired Elvin maiden, perched against a large tree, reading a scroll. She only occasionally looked towards him, beckoning him to come. For some reason, her eyes were always green. They had to be green…there was no other option.
He wondered who she was…but whoever she was, she was saving his sanity. He pictured kissing her soft lips, running his hands all over her delicate body as the scroll lay forgotten.
The skinned man sighed and shut his weary eyes. He glanced down one last time as his torn apart body. To his great disgust, strips of his skin still lay on the ground. He had an urge to vomit, but he fought it down, knowing that the violent jerking of his body could very well be fatal in his condition.
Perhaps it was more worrisome that he couldn't even remember his own name, rather than the one in his dreams.
The last bit of sunlight was blocked from his eyes, he lived in total darkness. He didn't even know when to sleep and when not to sleep. If he was left alone, as little as that may have been, he slept. The door to his cage opened with a loud bang and he instantly awoke from his pained slumber.
"Put it there and you two stay here."
Manilov had entered again, this time with a large bin of water.
"Pour the ice."
He swallowed at setup.
"Release his chains, but do not unbind his hands."
They did so, he fell to the ground with a nasty crunch, his broken leg was most likely shattered now. The two men dragged him to the large tub of water and held his face dangerously.
Without warning, his face was forced in and held there. Some fifteen seconds later, they let him up again. Two seconds for a breather and his face was pushed back into the cold. It was biting into his skin…or lack thereof. His face had still not healed. Whatever bone, muscle, and nerves lay under his skin was exposed to the ice cold water. It was like a thousands knives…each water molecule that hit his face.
They let him up again.
"What do you want from me!" He screamed at them, unable to take the pain any longer.
The malicious laughter echoed though the room.
"We thought it was clear. You have nothing we want. There is nothing you can do to make this stop now. Nothing."
He face was buried in, his screams muffled by the water. He closed his eyes, remembering only to breath here and there. They could no longer break him…there was nothing to break.
He felt a presence in his mind, a bad one. One with red tendrils. Instinctively, he brought his barriers up, a metal blockade to his memories. A shard tried to break him, but he thought of that woman in his dreams, and for some reason, the shard never beat his forces.
"Dammit!" The Shade yelled and broke the wall of his cell.
"Pull him up and let him hang by his arms and legs."
They did so.
He was hanging upside down from a bar, his arms and legs chained around it so he would not fall. A soldier looked at his face, but quickly looked away in disgust. No one wanted to look at him.
"Pour this water on his face till morning."
He took a knife, placing it deftly underneath a crevice in his ear and forcefully pulled upwards slicing it in half on his temple.
Manilov walked away, tapping his ear as left.
"Screams. We want to hear his screams through the day."
And their onslaught of ice cold water poured over his face began. The Shade got his wish. They left him for a few hours.
Eragon?
A voice echoed in his mind…it was strangely familiar. And that name…why was it important. He felt as if he should know that person..felt strongly that he had some personal connection.
It must be a trick.
He ignored the plea.
Eragon Shadeslayer! Are you listening to me?
He jolted himself awake, and in bewilderment, found himself reaching for that familiar connection as if he had done so many times before and answered.
Who wants to know?
Eragon? Is this you?
He thought for a moment, was he Eragon? Who was Eragon? That name was lost by him, all he could remember was pain.
Great love crosses even the shores of death
There, thought that band of fabled beauties come,
The heroines which the booty of Tyro bestowed upon the heroes of Greece—
The beauty of none of these will please me more than yours, Cynthia
Are these words familiar to you?
He frowned, yes they were…somehow.
Please remember, Eragon.
Remember what?
Remember me.
I do not know who you are.
I am your Cynthia.
That name echoed in his mind. Cynthia. Cynthia.
It was not Cynthia whom he knew those words were for, but her representative…Arya.
Arya!
Thank fate, you remember me.
You cannot be here, leave!
His memories came flooding back and he slowly began to feeling the longing of flying and being with his one and only love. He wished for Saphira. He longed for the pain to end, but he steeled himself again, stopping the memories from taking over.
I cannot leave you once I have found you. I did so once, you will never persuade me to do so again.
I am lost here. I do not know where I am. He is still here. Leave, Arya! Do not come back here.
I cannot and I will not. Do not even think otherwise.
…where are you?
In Dras-Leona.
Why there?
Because you are here, in a dungeon.
How far away are you?
Close enough.
Do not come any closer.
You cannot convince me.
You do not want to see me.
Eragon, you are mistaken in how much I truly need to see you.
A snap of a throat signaled her arrival. She checked briefly for magic on the gate and destroyed the lock. A drum sounded from upstairs and a raged yell signaled Manilov had discovered her intrusion. Arya pushed the gate open quickly and gasped at his sight. He was no longer covered in his tawny golden skin, but a mixed coating of blood, some wounds still oozing, black scabs, and large bruises covering nearly the entirety of his naked body. And his face…his face was no longer with him. He had barely any skin left on his face, it was carved…he was carved like an animal. Rage coursed through her. He was tortured beyond what she thought possible.
"Arya…save yourself."
His voice was strained…hurtful, as if to make the words took a great deal. As if breathing took a great deal.
It probably did. She thought ruefully.
"Hush."
She took a blue sword and cut at the chains, slicing them. He would have dropped to the ground had she not caught him from the ground. Wordlessly strapping his Rider's sword to the scabbard on her other side, she lifted him up, and put his weight against her while he was able to keep going. His legs were broken a little, so she fixed the fractures as best as he could so he could run. Breaking out of the sewers where she came in, she whistled to an Elvin horse.
Heaving Eragon into the saddle, she moved up and urged the horse to leave. The malicious Shade yelled out and raised his hand to shout a spell, but she was already anticipating the move. In a smooth motion, using her Elvin flexibility, she bent backwards till she was facing him upside down and released a perfectly aimed arrow. It shot straight through his hand, successfully stopping any attempt to stop them magically. Another move of expertise and she cast their sights invisible as they darted away in stealth.
Nearly a few leagues away, Arya came to a stop and set Eragon down in a clearing near a river.
She took in his appearance. He was bloodied and scarred beyond belief. His entire upper body was carved away, no longer did skin exist.
"Eragon."
She urged him to wake gently, knowing full well the effects of being startled after an ordeal such as this. His eyes snapped open and locked on to hers.
"Is this a dream? I will tell you nothing, Shade." His mouth was moving, but she could not even imagine what he truly looked like any longer.
But his hand was moving slightly to gently stroke her cheek with the back of his bloodied knuckle. She let a tear fall at his broken voice and held his hand to her face. A fierce desire to protect him rose through her.
In the unbreakable Ancient Language, she replied to him, "This is no dream. You are safe now."
"Arya…" But he could say no more.
"Slytha."
The princess had put him to sleep so she could begin the extensive work on healing his mangled body. Taking a soft cloth and dampening in the cool, clean water, she wiped the grime and blood from his body and healed all the open wounds. It was an extensive job, but Saphira had showed her Eragon's Belt of Beloth the Wise and Aren for this trip. Apparently, Eragon took Aren off occasionally when his hand hurt from its tight fitting because of his calloused hands.
Her first task was regrowing his skin. She could not do all seven layers, but at least half some would have to cover or else they would run the risk of massive infection.
Her energy was running low, but she had plenty between the excess in his gems. Eragon did a remarkable job storing energy in those gems. She had nearly ten to fifteen times her maximum capacity.
The skin swept over, pink and raw, like human skin just beginning to heal. The other dried scabs faded into small scars. The cut on his ear sealed together, scabbing at the end where a piece was undoubtedly lost.
She cursed that Shade to the depths of evil from which it arose from what it did to him. Knife wounds, thousands of them, raked his body. There was not a mark left untouched by scars or worse…scabs. Arya inspected him further. Infection could be a likely possibility, especially in very sensitive areas like his groin area.
She bit her lip. It was not as if he wasn't quite an attractive man. Sighing, she pushed the cloth down further and revealed his most intimate parts. Again anger coursed through her as she saw the damage. He was truly skinned alive. She reworked the skin there too.
There were cuts running so deep, it almost seemed as if his body was severed in two. She kept herself from crying out as she inspected for further wounds. Her hearing picked up movement a league away. Satisfied with herself, she pulled a pair of breeches on him and forced a tunic down.
Calling her trusty Elvin steed, she hauled him up and had him lean back in her arms so he wouldn't fall. She would not wake him…not for a long time. The horse tired when they were halfway across to Feinster. He had to rest and Arya did not blame him, her sleep however, was better put off.
With a little prompting, she pushed herself to have Eragon awaken.
His eyes became groggy again and for a moment he feared he was back. Sitting up with a jolt, he saw who his captor was and sagged down in relief.
"Thank you, Arya svit-kona, for coming."
Her eyes held him in sorrow. His body still pained him, but not as much as before. The tips of his ears reddened as he realized she must have healed him…all of him.
"I am sorry for my appearance."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You are sorry for being tortured while stripped of your clothes."
"I did not wish such a ghastly apparition on your eyes."
She sighed deeply, "When will you learn to stop protecting me?"
He looked down, afraid she might know.
"And yes, I do know. Saphira and I talked at length about your absolute ridiculous behavior and statement."
He took a while to realize what it was.
"Thank you for coming."
"What did they do to you? Your wounds can only say so much."
Eragon shook his head, feeling his face. To his joy, he felt nothing but skin there.
"How long was I there?"
Her eyes filled with sadness once again.
"Three and a half months…I could not find for you three and a half months." Her voice cracked, "I did not see you for three and a half months."
He gritted his teeth and made his way over to her, sinking down with a grace he had to abandon. Apologizing for moving so roughly against her, for he did jar her slightly with his uncoordinated movements.
"I can only imagine how peaceful those three and a half months are."
Her eyes flashed in anger as she took him in.
"Merely because you are in unfortunate condition, do not think I will not bring my anger against your remarks. Your last words to me have yet to fade away."
"Arya."
She turned to look at him, slightly alarmed at the desperation on his voice. And before he knew what the was doing, he tilted her chin upwards and brought his lips to hers with a desire he did not know possible.
It seemed like electricity arched through them, feeding them with passion, jolting them so all they could do was want more and more of it.
Her hand scrambled against his chest, snaking around him and pulling him closer.
"Ah!"
He clutched his back in pain and Arya instantly moved away.
"I am sor-"
"I am sor-"
They both started at the same time.
"I am sorry for hurting you. I was not thinking quite clearly, Eragon."
"You were not the only one."
She regarded him with an annoyed expression.
"You may not like to hear this, but I thought of you. I couldn't remember your name, but you were always there."
He fell silent once more, quailing under her guarded expression.
"I am sorry for acting the way I did. I crossed boundaries."
She closed her eyes, stopping the look of incredulousness on her face.
"What boundaries? Surely you know by now."
He moved closer, unable to take the separation. But she did not mind, rather, she grasped his hand, urging him to come closer to her as they huddled around the fire.
"Eragon, I lived for three and a half months in the wild like this trying to find you. I raided nearly every jail in every city and more. I risked being disowned by my mother a thousand times. Even Nasuada said she would remove me from my position of power if I did not stop searching for you."
"Why did you?"
"I love you. I had to find you."
Her simple words were enough to erase all the horrid memories away. Sighing in contentment, he rested his head in the crook of her neck, moving his lips lightly over the taut skin there, biting and nipping a little as he saw fit. Her hands came up to hold his chest to her, resting her head against his, tears flowing down her cheek in relief that she had found him.
"I cannot believe you asked me to leave you there."
He lifted his head up, capturing her lips just because he could.
"I love you too much to let you be in danger on my account."
"What did you say?"
"I do not want you to be in danger on my account."
"No, before that."
He smiled at her.
"I love you."
Her eyes closed, "And to think once I resented you saying those words to me."
"You know why I changed? Because I wanted to be someone who you could love."
She nuzzled his nose, moving her hands over the numerous scars on his face and patches on his face.
"I loved who you were, I love who you are. It did not matter if I could read your emotions or not, you will always be the same. The same one who has impeccable morals, a sense of humor that never fails to make me smile, thoughtfulness enough to comfort me, and a heart big enough to forgive even the most horrid of mistakes."
Her words endeared him, and suddenly he felt the past months of torture were worth it because he was finally able to love her.
"I have trouble believing, Arya, that I am fortunate enough to be loved by you."
"Do not let it trouble you longer."
He shuddered against her body, the crisp cold air taking more out of him with the painful scars than he realized. She noticed his predicament and pulled a blanket out of the forgotten saddle that lay at her side. Deftly unfolding the material, she placed the wool cloth above them and let it float over their bodies, warming them instantly.
"Arya. I do not want to sleep."
"You must rest, you have been through a terrible ordeal. No one else could have survived the torture you have just endured."
"I am afraid." He admitted silently.
"Afraid of what?"
Her hand came up to curve around his back. He was on top of her, his head still buried in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and moist on her pale skin. One hand came underneath her back, nearly crushing them together, and the other strong arm of his came up underneath her shoulders, the hand splayed on the nape on her neck, supporting her as if she was his new born babe.
In a sense, she was like that to him. A new born babe in that he loved her unconditionally. Her attempts to deter her fazed him little. Instead, all she succeeded in doing is prolong her eventual caving to his persuasions. Any other man, human or Elvin, would have not even glanced in her direction a second time, let alone continue to love her, and yet he had. Not once, but many times. And when she rejected him, he continued to stand by her as a friend, eager to simply spend time with her.
Her mind quickly went back to her question, and when he did not answer, she became worried. Her arm curved around his back underneath the blankets, staying high up, comforting him. Her other hand curved in his hair, scraping his scalp gently to soothe his wandering mind. Really, it was not only enjoyable to him. The feel of his long brown locks of hair, unkempt and wild beneath her fingers excited her.
She loved his hair, truly loved it. The chocolate brown hair was lighter where it burnt from flying so close to the sun. The darker brown locks were kept underneath, their thick, almost ray like manner. And he wore it longer than most human men. It reached his neck and framed his face. She could run her hands through and the same strands would run for nearly a few inches.
He sighed contently as her nails continued to rake across his scalp gently.
"What fears you, Eragon?"
Burying his head in her neck even deeper, he whispered hot against her skin.
"I fear that when I wake, I shall be back in that dungeon, and this will all have been a dream."
"This is no dream and I have no intention of letting you fall back into that Shade's clutches."
Her voice was soft, but Eragon could hear the undertones of ferocity in her Ancient Language. And slowly, he let the elation in heart course through his body erupting into a magnificent smile on his face, one he knew she had felt across her neck for she tightened her hold on him and lightly kissed his head.
"I love you, Arya."
His voice faded off as he let himself succumb to sleep. He had precious little in the past months, he kept himself from sleeping, knowing that his mental functions would be retained, and with that his memory and desire to escape.
A constant wet drop on the back of his neck woke him and for a moment he feared he was back in the dungeons, the leaking of water from the cracks in the cement above him finally making its way over to his usual spot in the corner.
He awoke slowly, unwanting to open his eyes to see if it were true, and that Arya truly did not find him.
But the brightness of the sun, a foreign sight, wiped the thought from his mind. His arms tightened involuntary and he realized he had not moved from his tight grip around her. Chastising himself for what clearly could not be comfortable for her, he lifted his body up off of her. Her hands, however, remained woven around the curls of his hair. Smiling, he gently removed her grip on them.
Walking over to a small pond, he looked at his reflection and cringed. His entire face was covered in scars and he felt ashamed even holding the princess in his present state. His face was slightly pink, raw, a tell tale sign that he was actually skinned alive like an animal. In vain, he brought his hands to his face and drew upon that magic source so familiar to him and began to work at the imperfections. He had no need to rid himself of excessive amounts of facial hair. Manilov often did the job for him, cutting his mouth, chin, cheeks, and jaw as he made sure he was 'presentable.' Of course, the blade seldom took only facial hair with it.
The scars faded slowly away. He sighed and too his tunic off to examine the rest of his body. His disgust at his scarred frame caused him to violently tear his eyes away from his reflection.
"They are a symbol of all you have endured. Something to be proud of, not ashamed. They will heal and leave no trace on your body."
"I am sorry such an ugly apparition even fell sight to your beautiful eyes."
His eyes turned away in shame that he ever pressed his case with her looking like that. He cringed again as he remembered he kissed her with his face marred so badly.
A pair of soft arms curved around his muscled abdomen and a light head rested in between his shoulder blades.
"An ugly apparition? I hardly think so. You standing in the sun after months away from my eyes, alive and well, an ugly apparition? Nay, it is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen, but not nearly as beautiful as the man I love."
He chuckled, "That man must be one lucky man." But he was already clutching those lithe arms to him.
His joke led to a chaste kiss over a scar running straight through his shoulder blades. A warm sensation filled his body as her magic flew through, reducing the patchy areas to their usual tawny color, and the scars to mere lines.
"I cannot possibly determine how fortunate he may be, but it is for certain he brings fortune wherever he goes."
Eragon turned in her embrace and brought his arms like two steel bands across her back, clutching her to him as if she was his life.
"Scars have no meaning to be. You have always been a handsome man, and you shall always be a handsome man in my eyes."
She ran her hand down the uneven planes on his back, anger rising at exactly how many smooth skin lines raked across.
"We should leave, Eragon. It is getting late in the day and we do not know who is on our tail."
"Of course."
She pulled out of his embrace first, handing him his tunic and Brisingr. He caught her hand, pulling her close. With a naughty smile she was so fond of, he locked his lips to hers, unabashedly taking her a willing prisoner.
He pulled away breathlessly.
"What was that for?"
"Because I can."
He smiled on her lips, kissing her one last time before she insisted that they must leave.
Swinging herself into the saddle, she waited for Eragon to mount himself behind her. He had no idea where they were going, and considering he was inches taller than her, she could not see if he was in front. Leading the horse towards Feinster, but away from the main paths, Arya gripped the reins tightly and urged the horse faster to their destination. The Elvin princess wanted to make the entire distance to Feinster. Their trail could be easily discovered because of Eragon's blood on the ground. She tried to mask it as best as possible, but she could only do so much with the potent smell. They had to get to the port city or else they would be discovered tonight.
He seemed to share her urgency to move quickly across the plains, but his mind was already being ravaged at. The memories he could not stop from emerging in his mind caused him to wince in abnormal pain.
Arya brought the horse to a stop in a small clearing with the water running next to them at nearly nightfall. The Elvin horse was tiring with two fully grown adults on his back and he needed at least an hour's rest.
His companion's involuntary shivering promoted him to make a small fire. He leaned against a tree trunk, closing his eyes with the pain.
"Take off your tunic."
He smirked at her, knowing his comment would undoubtedly get him into trouble. But, hell, he loved her anger. That fiery flash in her eyes served to ignite his body exponentially.
"If you would like to consummate our love so early in our relationship, I have no problem with it. But perhaps a little forewarning would have been nice, so I could at least plan in my anticipation."
He opened his eyes to see her narrowed expression. It was, however, short lived as a knowing smile crept on her features and she looked away, the tips of her ears red. He chuckled at her embarrassment, enjoying their playful banter. Heaving his pained body from the ground he lifted his long tunic off his body and walked to her, his head held down.
"I was merely jesting, Arya. I truly have no intention of doing anything of the sort. In fact, I do not even think I would be able to."
The Elvin princess shook her head, a tentative smile as a compromise between his jest and the reminder of his terrible ordeal.
He loved he could do that, make her smile with offhand comments. As he carefully folded the tunic and shoved it in the saddle, he felt two delicate arms turn him around. A hand gently caressed his entire torso, looking over the dark scars that marred his tawny skin.
"You do not have to look, Arya. I will take care of them. I do not wish for such…marks to remain longer than necessary."
She said nothing to his remark, instead drawing herself closer to his body and muttering a soft chant to heal the somewhat raw skin that lay underneath the scars. The unhealed wounds that caused him pain. He sighed in relief at the dull throbbing finally subsided.
Dark brown lines remained, but her chest was heaving as she tried to regain her breath with the overexertion on her part. He caught her in his strong arms as she threatened to fall over and poured what little energy he could access without putting too much strain into her body.
She steadied herself instantly, but made no move to break away from his embrace.
"Do not ever think me so shallow as to assume I would hate to look at your scars because you deem them ugly. I hate looking at them because they serve as a reminder that you were injured. I hate looking at them because they remind you of the hell you experienced. Not because they are ugly, never that."
Her arms clasped around his tighter as she rested her head over his beating heart, kissing a particularly jagged cut yet to fade.
The fire grew to a formidable companion, and the pair found themselves sitting against a log while their four legged friend rested his weary legs. She sat, her head resting against his shoulder, a careless arm strung over his toned abdomen, hands splayed across the seemingly rock like skin, his arm around her body, pulling her closer.
"Elvin men have softer muscles. Even toned, they are not hard to touch. I used to sleep on my father when I was little."
"I am sorry for that." But he made no move to let her go.
"Actually, I fear I am rather fond of harder surfaces. I could never sleep well on a soft surface. I always chose the harder mattress. My mother called it once a rock when she sat on it."
"I am glad then."
He felt her head shift as she gazed at him. His eyes were closed as he savored the feeling of her against him.
"I thought you found peace in looking at the flames. Why do you not look at them?"
He smiled, "I no longer require anything but you to bring me peace."
Her lips faintly touched his jaw line, but her expression hardened and at once the Elvin warrior princess returned to her body demeanor. She sat up, leaned away from him, bringing her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she looked away.
He lifted a tentative hand to pull her back, desiring her presence next to him, but he thought better of forcing her into anything.
"Arya, what is wrong?"
"I am a distraction to you. This cannot continue if you want to remain safe in battle."
He could not take the distance between them, instead he rested his forehead on her shoulder. Arya did not move away from him, but rather in a softer voice, reminded him it was dangerous.
"You know I love you. I cannot deter my feelings simply because you say we cannot be together. You and I have both tried that. I will always look to your safety first."
She shook her head, "I made the mistake of letting you put my life first when that Manilov attacked us. It was logical that I go, not you, never you. You are far more important to the Varden and to Alagaesia than I am. I should have never let you go."
"You keep saying I am more important, but you fail to realize how important you are. Without you, the elves would retreat to Du Weldonvarden, pulling out their support and we would surely lose. You are their future Queen. Not to mention, Arya, I need you. You are more important to me than the Varden, than Alagaesia, than my own life. In any case, he would have killed you if you were captured, not me. He cannot kill me."
"It should not be that way." She reprimanded him.
"Then tell me what to do."
She turned her head in his direction.
"Tell me what to do, Arya. And I shall do it. If you want to remain as we were, so be it, I shall remain in the bounds of friendship. If you want to never speak to me again, so be it. I will do as you ask."
"You would never speak to me as a friend again, if I asked you to?"
His hand tightened on her arm, willing her not to chose that option.
"If you wanted it, yes."
"I do not."
He sighed in relief and pulled away, leaning back against the log.
"Then we shall remain friends as you desire."
"I do not."
He looked at her small frame and for once he noticed exactly how much bigger he was compared to her. She looked, somehow, childlike in her curled position, as if protecting herself from something.
"I cannot go back, Eragon. My heart does not will it. I have gone against my Elvin customs and ideals of not acting upon a heart's desire. We do not believe in it. But I cannot go back now. No matter how many times I may try to forget the chaste kisses of our first encounter, I cannot."
She looked at him, "You have burned me, Eragon. And I cannot heal from it."
He glanced away, "You say it as if it is a bad thing."
"It is." She admitted, "But I have never felt so strongly that I have made the right decision. My logic has been severely hindered by the magnitude of these emotions."
He sighed, dreading the words about to leave his mouth.
"Arya, I only wish to be with you if you will it."
"I more than will it, Shur'tugal. I embrace it. It is no longer a choice for me."
And she went back into his arms, holding him tightly for warmth under the cool fall breeze. She tilted his head down, methodically moving her lips fervently over his.
"Rest for an hour or so, Eragon. We have traveled far and we still have a ways to go. But my trusty Elvin companion has grown tired with the extent I have been driving him these past days."
He murmured his agreement, already feeling the weariness travel through him.
"What is his name?"
"Evlon."
"A fine name."
"Sleep, Rider. Your weariness worries me."
"Stay with me."
"Rest, Eragon. I shall not be far. You must eat something for your strength. I will be back shortly."
A twinge of fear rose in him. He was not sure why, but before he could protest, she muttered "Slytha" sending him into the abyss of his dreams.
The first memories were the worst. It was not the pain… he could take the pain, but rather the sinking notion that he was back in the place he dreaded the most. Back in the hell Manilov had created for him. He tried to open his eyes, praying to feel the heat of the sun against his face, but no matter how hard he tried, all he felt was the heat from the burning metal edging closer and closer to his body.
It progressively went worse and soon he found himself hanging upside, his arms and legs tied up to a rod above him. They put cotton over his face, only letting his eyes see the buckets and buckets of water they poured on him. It simulated drowning…and it was working. He screamed and screamed, but all his attempts were muffled.
"Eragon!"
What was that voice? He was hallucinating, all he could feel was the water splashing on his face.
"Eragon!"
Again. A hand hit his face. Perhaps Manilov was resorting to good old punching.
Another slap.
"Open your eyes!"
"Barzul! Eragon, let me in!"
It must have been Manilov playing a trick to get in his mind, must have been to find out his secrets. He fortified his defenses again. But to no avail.
A sharp dagger pierced his mind and he cried out. All three months and a half of suffering gone to waste because he was not strong enough.
The penetration cleared his head and he was left blank. He stopped resisting, unsure why there was a feeling so warm and endearing coursing through his mind, and he flipped his eyes open.
Dark green emeralds greeted his sight. He blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings. Trying to move his hands, he found himself pinned underneath the Elvin princess's strong arms. He took gasping breaths, trying to catch himself as the memories of the last days came flooding back to him.
"What happened, Eragon?"
He shook his head. He would not tell her. He could not.
"What did they do to you?"
He shook his head again. Adamant.
"Eragon! I tried everything. Prodding you, splashing water on you, hitting you forcefully, but nothing! Nothing could wake you. Instead, you resisted even more, falling deeper and deeper in your dream."
Her chest fell and rose as if labored. It seemed to take her energy to wake him up.
"You blocked me out. I could not see what they did to you."
He looked away, "There is no need to talk about something I would rather forget."
Her eyes flashed in anger as she lifted herself up, dropped a bag of nuts and fruits she scavenged for and left him to sit at the river bank.
Gratefully, he picked up the sack of nutrients and went to go sit by her.
"I am sorry, Arya."
She failed to look at him.
"I was scared. I could not wake you. You were about to roll into the fire, and I still could not wake you. What did they do to you that even water causes you to flinch?"
He sighed deeply.
"You do not want to hear, Arya. I would not want you to hear it."
"When will you learn to stop protecting me? I need to know."
"Why?"
Her eyes flashed with anger.
"I need to know exactly how much torture to put them through we next meet."
"Arya…"
"What did they do to you?"
He could deny her nothing.
"That particular form of…treatment was perfected one month into my capture. Galbatorix had no need to see me while Saphira was not making herself appear. So, Manilov used me as a 'test subject' on how various torture methods worked. They simulated drowning me. I was held upside down, my hands and feet tied to a burning rod. They only let my eyes be uncovered, everything else was tied shut. And they poured water on me, bucket after bucket, hour after hour. I could barely breath."
Arya closed her eyes.
"What else?"
"He took a knife…and cut me everywhere. Deeply, actually. Not enough to kill, but enough to make the blood never stop. There were things with burning rods. He carved his name on my leg once. But that is gone now. And…and the skinning. A razor blade and shaved my skin off my face and torso. That was the worst of it."
A long breath shuddered through her.
"I now see that I was the lucky one to have been captured when I did. They had not thought to improve their methods. Mere whippings and burnings were all they had."
He cringed as he moved closer, his dreams made the old wounds seem a little fresh with his senses on end. Putting his arm around her, he smiled in spite of the situation at how she melted against him, her unbreakable barriers evaporating when he neared.
Kissing the top of her head, he told her, "I know not what hope you had when they captured you. Or for what purpose or even whom you thought of to keep you strong. But I thought of you and Saphira and somehow, I was able to keep myself in check. They did not break my mind, they know nothing from me. I had love to keep my barriers strong. Yet you remained strong with neither of these. You are far stronger than I was."
Her eyes captured his in a long meaningful look before her lips found his in a chaste kiss, not nearly as passionate as their earlier encounters, but even more significant.
"I wish I had found you sooner."
"Arya, please do not leave me. I am not strong enough to fight these dreams without you by my side."
She averted her eyes before she ruefully admitted, "As if I am strong enough to leave knowing the danger of leaving you alone."
Standing up, she pulled him to his feet, walking closer to him than she would have normally allowed.
Evlon stood up on his feet, rearing back to signal he was ready to depart. Arya swiftly jumped in place and held the reins until Eragon came up behind her with not nearly as much grace. He took the reins from her hands, knowing she would protest.
"Eragon, I am perfectly capable of maintaining control over the reins. I need not have it done for me."
He smiled, perhaps not much will have changed even if they loved each other openly.
"I had no intention of thinking otherwise. I merely thought you would be tired with expending your energy to heal my scars and scavenging for food, and not to mention breaking into my mind to stop the hell that arises within me. Sleep for a while, I know where we are. But you must rest, you too turned your back on resting while I have rested."
"That can hardly be considered resting."
"My mind may have been in havoc, but my body was rested."
"Eragon…"
He kissed her neck, nipping at the soft skin as she leaned back in his arms.
"Sleep, Arya."
She closed her eyes, letting the past months of true sleeplessness take her waking mind. The fact she did not even require the induced sleep of the elves should have been a sign that she was overexerting her body, but her mind had already been silenced with drowsiness.
The Rider savored the feel of the Elvin princess in his arms, trusting him to lead the way even when she was so fiercely independent. His nightmares always resurfaced when she was not near, how he hated the feeling.
Involuntarily, his arms tightened around the love in his arms. He waited with baited breath, he could not wait to find Saphira. One day in his right mind already had him seeking out the farthest of boundaries until his soul mate could be found. Slowly, he leaned Arya back in his arms so she wouldn't bounce with the speed Evlon was taking them with. Gently kissing her the top of her head, he whispered that he loved her, a small smile flickered across her face before blank once again.
The sun was nearing the end of its regime for the day. The moon was steadily rising to his left. It was full tonight…the wolves would be on the prowl. Evlon seemed to sense their hungry minds and sped up through the thicket of the forest, slowing down to a fast gallop from a sprint only in the open fields where they could not be jumped by those pack animals. Eragon did his best to lead them away from their position, but even true control could be thwarted by sheer willpower. How long, however, was yet to be determined.
He heard a howl in the distance, similar to the ones he heard when in the dungeon. It was his only notion that a world outside of his existed, and that a day had passed. He gritted his teeth, forcing the memories away and concentrating only one his savior in front of him. He felt ashamed as he realized he had pushed her away. The length she had resorted to in order to save him from drowning (quite literally) in his memories were enormous. He tightened his arms again, turning his head into the crook of her neck as a wave of love threatened to overwhelm him. His arms went limp with the long reins and rested against on her thighs. She nestled against his body, a smile splaying her features. He was glad it was a good dream she was having. Against his better judgment, and if Arya ever found out, she would have his head, he let one hand off the reins and came to possessively splay over her abdomen, pinning her in between his arm and his body.
If she criticized his movements later, he would not mind. He was sure he could get away with a little here and there for she placed her hands over his arm, holding him to her.
Maybe he was not the only who displayed his love through physical actions. He nuzzled her hair.
A snort of Evlon signaled he was not happy with the lack of attention the Rider was placing on where they were going. He had avoided a few tricky places on his own, but he made it clear he was not going to let himself be the only one watching for they were heading.
He chuckled silently, Arya had picked the perfect horse for herself. Intelligent, proud, strong, skilled…just like her. She would never be bored with a companion as intelligent and vocal as Evlon was.
The moon was at its highest when the last of the forest edged away past them. It was now a straight shot for the next few hours to Feinster. Evlon knew the worst had past them and picked up the pace as the land opened up. He feared no attacks any longer. Within the hour, Eragon saw Feinster. It was the wee hours of the morning. Only the guard saw who was approaching. He signaled who he was, stated his affairs and gently woke up Arya to ensure no one was the wiser of their relationship.
ERAGON!
He smiled as he let his link find its companion.
Why did you not look for me sooner? I have been waiting for days.
He was scared as to what she would do once she had his memories.
She demanded the answer, barely giving him time to think as her body raised itself against the moon and heading directly towards him. The soldiers scattered out of the way, but Eragon jumped and swung himself into the area near her collar bone. It was his special spot after all. She held him, her neck craning around him, locking him to her.
Thank you, Arya. Thank you for bringing him back to me. I do not know what I would have done.
Neither would I, Bjartskular. All I know is that your precious Rider is even more dear to me than before.
Saphira smiled knowingly and brought her long snout to the princess's brow.
"It is late and we need our rest for tomorrow. The king will not be happy to discover the Shadeslayer is out of his clutches."
Saphira sent her agreement.
Ride with me and sleep on your bed. I will drop you to the balcony of your room.
But…
Your body is tired, Eragon. You must rest for the next few days.
Nasuada…
Will be informed in the morning instead of this ungodly hour.
She said even more silently to him.
If the memories arising in your head are any indication of the ordeal you have just surpassed, a few days may not be enough.
I am fine, Saphira.
Nay, Little one. You do not recover from such so quickly. I will have his head before the end of the year.
He moved into her saddle, nearly falling asleep in his place. Saphira dropped him off by the balcony. He did indeed need rest, but before that, a wash was in order. He moved himself to the wash closet, pouring the much needed liquid over his body in the way he saw fit. No matter what he could not bring himself to wash his face with it. Not yet anyway. It still felt like drowning.
A knock sounded on his door. He pulled himself together and took a pair of the cotton Elvin pants.
"Eragon?"
He smiled before opening the door. He did not exactly care that he was only in his pants, after all, that was more than Arya had seen him in. Opening the door, the furtive gaze of the Elvin princess met his eyes. Her sight flicked to a small bead of water traveling down his chest. She glanced around outside and pushed him in.
Turning and bolting the door, she returned his gaze.
He took one step before his lips were on hers, soft and pliant against her. Only for her was he a willing prisoner.
"Arya…" he groaned against her mouth, and she regretfully pulled away.
"Will you not ask why I am here?"
He held her face gently in his hands, marveling at how for one so independent, she allowed such physical affection.
"You never need a reason to be here."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips before vanishing.
"I am unsure of leaving you here unattended. I fear you may thrash about in your dreams again, and I do not want to waste the night thinking of the possible ways you could harm yourself."
"Always looking after me."
He joked.
"Someone has to since you have obviously been so careless in doing so."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she seemed to regret it.
"Eragon, forgive me. I never meant to…"
"You are quite right. I never think of myself during a battle, and I often place myself in more danger situations than necessary. But no matter, it is a mistake easily fixed."
She sighed and dropped her head on his chest.
"I could not sleep, Rider. My body, for some reason or the other, has decided it cannot find a comfortable position alone."
She held him tighter, her arms holding him closer.
"After Gil'ead, the nightmares stayed with me. I still have them, though not as often. When I stayed with you, while you rested, you did not have any. I assumed, perhaps, that I could protect you from that particular side effect of such an ordeal."
"Stay with me, please."
She sighed, "I have no choice. My better judgment is impaired by what I can only deem love."
He smiled at her, his expression turning naughty.
"Are you saying you love me?"
She caught her breath before replying. "I already have told you how I feel for you. I need to have such a wayward way of telling you again."
His smiled widen. Normally, he supposed, most people would never even consider smiling after such a terrifying ordeal, but he was healing quickly. And it had everything to do with the Elvin princess in his arms.
"I love you, Arya Drottningu."
She nudged his nose with hers, darting her eyes between his own and his mouth.
"Why must you repeat it so often?"
"I know not. I just feel constricted if I do not."
She leaned closer in his arms.
"I love you, Eragon. And do not forget it so soon." She looked away, "I am uncomfortable with these open expressions."
"You needn't ever explain yourself to me, Arya. And neither will I ever wish you to change. I love you as you are, unconditionally and eternally."
"How are we even remotely compatible, Eragon? We are different."
"A relationship with two people with trouble expressing themselves is cause to worry. But you know all I am feeling and thinking and even if you do not tell me, I do know what you are feeling and thinking. We will make this work, Arya. Please trust me."
She smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "With my life, Shadeslayer, with my life."
Taking his hand gently in hers, she pulled the cloak off and led him to the cold, crisp sheets. He was left staring after her, a long, fluid gown reaching far past her ankles. Her shoulders were left bare and the neckline curved into a long V stretching far past he deemed comfortable. She noticed his obvious hesitation to sleep next to her.
"I trust you not to do anything I would resent you for later. Little as that may be."
She muttered the last part to herself, obviously not wanting to voice it too loudly.
"You may trust me, but I fear I do not trust myself."
He stepped towards her encouraged by a smile of hers. She knew the effect she had on him and she was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. He slid under the covers next to her, placing a tentative arm around her waist. For once, she allowed the closeness, and even turned in his strong arms draping herself over his chest.
"It is cold." She justified.
He gently rubbed her upper arms hoping to warm her, she seemed to smile gratefully before sending herself into her induced state of sleep.
He laid awake hours later, unsure of how he was to approach sleeping to prevent his nightmares. But even his weariness was wearing him thin and he feel asleep shortly after his contemplation.
The nightmares plagued him less as the nights wore on. They never went away, but rather were silenced by Arya's constant presence. He loved that she stayed with him every night. Their attachment to each other may have exceeded the normal pace of growing affection, but neither seemed to care about technicalities much. It was far more pleasant to let their relationship carry forth well. He may never live to see peace, but Eragon knew with his love by his side, the end of his days would be the happiest of his life.
