A/N: So here is the next chapter! Named after Please Don't Leave Me, by P!nk. Just for fun. I hope you like it, and THANK YOU everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and all that good stuff last chapter. This one is for you guys. If you are reading, please drop me a review! It only takes a minute to make any author really happy. Again, thank you sooo much, and I hope you enjoy the next installment!
Chapter 3: Please Don't Leave Me
Shivering as another drop of water slid from her hair to her neck, Ariana returned his gaze. "Why am I wet?" What exactly did you do while healing me?
He paused, watching her, as if deciding something. "I healed whatever I could see," Murtagh said slowly. Ariana didn't miss the faint color in his cheeks, or the way his eyes momentarily flicked away from hers. "But you were covered in blood – I think you passed out a bit before I got there. I don't even know how you survived – the blade was coated with Seithr oil." He eyed her appraisingly, respect flashing momentarily in his eyes. "Thorn insisted on us moving at least a bit away before I healed you, because he didn't want you to be killed if we were attacked again, but I just held you in the stream for a few minutes first to get the blood off. I didn't – you know –" He actually blushed, and Ariana smiled.
"Thank you," she whispered, feeling her own cheeks suffuse with heat. Cupping her hands, she leaned forward. "Brisingr." Flames of a deep midnight blue, the same as her eyes, burst into life in her palms. Throwing her head back, letting the hood fall off her hair, she combed her fingers through it, savoring the heat. When her hair was dry, she let the flames die away.
"Eragon's magic was the same color," Murtagh observed.
She shrugged. "What's yours?" The answer came to her nearly instantly, as an image of Thorn's beautiful ruby scales flashed into her mind. "Red?"
He nodded.
Drawing his cloak tighter around herself, Ariana took a deep breath. "So…your question." She eyed him nervously. "I – if I'm honest with you, you need to be with me too. I haven't told anyone – can you just not –"
A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Who am I going to tell? Well besides Thorn, who'll find out anyway?"
He had a point. But her heart had begun to flutter like a frightened rabbit's. Could she trust him? Would he even trust her after she told him? He'll leave you here and go, she told herself, wavering. It shouldn't matter, really. She had told him to leave just minutes ago. But she didn't want to be abandoned anymore.
He was still quiet, waiting for her to begin, not pushing her. Was that sympathy in his eyes? Or fear? He was nearly impossible to read, and Ariana was normally good at detecting and identifying emotions in others. But she was at least grateful that he wasn't probing now, although he had demanded that she reveal the darkest part of herself. Well, that would be all of herself in that case.
"I was five," Ariana whispered, staring at the ground. "Just five. They came for me in the middle of the night. It's one of my first clear memories. I never really got to see my father after that, and my mother…I don't think I ever met her. I don't remember. I always tried to see his ears, to figure out if he was an elf, but his hair always hid them.
"They took me because I could use magic, and Galbatorix wanted everyone who could under his control. I was kept at Urû'baen – Ilirea now." Murtagh made a small movement, but then stilled himself, nodding at her to continue.
"I had a small room, a nurse to take care of me until I didn't need her anymore. But they – they started to train me." She sniffed, taking a few deep breaths. "I learned to use my magic, to control it. Initially I had fun, using my talents in more ways than I could think of. But then they found a use for me.
"I was given a private trainer, because I had elvish blood in me and that made my magic more potent than that of regular magicians. When I was ten they started me on weapons – and I was good at it. Too good. The moment I had learned everything they wanted me to know, they had my mentor killed – I was glad they did. He was vicious." Memories of blood swam before her eyes, and her skin itched with the remembrance of pain before she batted it away. "My first assignment was when I was thirteen, on my birthday." She became suddenly conscious that she was speaking in a monotone, her voice expressionless. She didn't want to feel anymore. Didn't want to see his disgust either.
"I didn't want to do it. I told them no, there was no way I would go out there and murder people Galbatorix didn't like. They…didn't like that very much." Even though it was warm inside the cloak, Ariana shivered at the memories. "They tortured me until I agreed…I still have the scars. I did that for years, killed so many people. I still have nightmares about it, I still feel their blood on my hands, see their expressions when they know they're about to die. I can't forgive myself for it. I shouldn't have ever agreed to do it." She swalled. "But when the Varden became a serious threat to the Empire, they sent me out to fight. I covered my tracks and ran. I went to Surda, but I had to leave because…" She choked on the words, not wanting to tell him. Besides, what if the rumors were true and he did love Nasuada? It would hurt him too.
"Why?" Murtagh sounded hoarse, and she saw sympathy and pity flashing in his beautiful silver eyes before he buried the emotion.
Ariana looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to know?"
He nodded, looking pained.
"Do you know Orrin? King of Surda?" When he nodded, she plowed on. "I – we were engaged. He'd asked me to marry him a few days ago, and we were going to make it official last night – the same night I found you. But before the ceremony, I heard voices in one of the rooms that should have been empty, and when I looked in I saw him and Nasuada kissing on the bed." Drawing in a gasping breath, she began to cry, seeing the tears falling onto her lap, staining his cloak.
"Are you sure?" His voice sounded so strained that Ariana didn't have to look up to know his expression would be tortured. He did love Nasuada. And somehow, even though she had only barely met him, that stung.
"Yes," she said, her voice quaking, saturated with tears that wouldn't stop. "I saw her skin, and her face. I've seen her before."
It was quiet, save for the sound of her tears.
Murtagh took a loud, deep breath. His voice, when he began to speak, was what hers had been – a flat, unmoving monotone, devoid of emotion. He told her of his childhood, how Morzan had lain his back open when he was only three, of the scar that now laced his back. He spoke of the years he had spent living at Urû'baen – like her, Ariana realized with a start – how he had first met Galbatorix, how he had escaped, how he had been recaptured and forced to serve the evil king when he had been unable to bear Thorn's torture, although the dragon had refused to give in, even as a tiny hatchling.
His voice changed then. There was a tremor in it. Slowly, haltingly, he told her of how he had been sent out to capture Nasuada, how she had been tortured and he had done everything he could do save her, risked his life in an attempt to be able to free her. How he had loved her since the first time she visited him in Tronjheim. "But I couldn't stay with her after we defeated Galbatorix," he breathed, sounding utterly broken. "Thorn and I – we felt so much pure rage, so much hate at the world and what it had done to us. Especially me. Thorn has not had to experience so much of what I had, but he was angry for me. I couldn't stay. I've been gone three years…I can't say I didn't have a feeling something like this would happen…"
He took a rattling breath, clenching a fist atop his raised knee. Ariana watched the muscles bunch up and tense under the skin of his forearms, exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, through her tears.
And though she hated crying, she drew her knees up to her chest, buried her face in his warm cloak, and wept for them both, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently, releasing all the emotion she had carried for so long. Wishing that her love for Orrin and her hurt over what he had done would flow out of her with her tears. But she could still feel him hooked to her heart.
When she finally looked up, feeling shaky and completed drained from all the crying, her eyes fell upon an empty cave. She sat up straighter. A quick glance at the mouth of the cave told her that the sun was setting – the light was warmer but dimmer. Her legs trembled as she stood, and when Ariana took a step forward, she stumbled over the cloak. It trailed on the ground after her as she walked carefully to the entrance, not wanting to trip over its hem.
Bending down, she snagged her sword from the pile of her saddlebags, ducking out of the cave with the weapon clutched firmly in her hand. There was grass outside the cave, flattened in certain places – probably where his feet had landed. Following the crushed grass, Ariana found herself walking into thick woods, where the waning sunlight barely filtered between dense leafy treetops. But her keen eyes quickly adjusted to the growing darkness.
A loud splash sounded from before her, and Ariana broke into a run, lifting up the cloak and the dress below it as she scurried barefoot between the trees. She wasn't sure how long she ran, but her lungs had just begun to burn – and she had the abilities of an elf, not a human – when the trees began thinning out. Déjà vu began to pound against her brain, as images of a bloody and nearly dead Murtagh surrounded by corpses and sheltered by a huge red dragon assaulted her. She pushed them away. The presence of a stream didn't mean that the forest or the events were the same. Although she was pretty sure they were still in the Beor mountains.
As she left the trees behind her she found herself standing by the banks of a narrow river. Ariana looked immediately to her right, and saw no one. But on her left, a fair distance away, she saw a straight, tall form garbed in black. Murtagh.
As she moved towards him, her tread silent, Murtagh reared back and hurled a ball of red flames into the river, creating another earsplitting splash. The water hissed, frothed, and steamed as the fire continued to burn inside it, until he released the magic and the water ceased writhing around the imploding red sphere.
His chest was heaving, and he was dripping. The water must have splashed him as the fire landed in it, but for a moment her eyes roved appreciatively over his figure, caught by the way his sodden tunic clung to his abdominal and chest muscles. He really was well-defined, and she suddenly remembered the way his muscles felt under her skin while she healed him. And then, the unavoidable wondering whether he had touched her the same way hit her, and Ariana found herself blushing as she approached him, unable to decide whether the thought disgusted or pleased her.
Murtagh hadn't noticed her; without warning, he raised his arm and hurled another ball of flames, this time into a tree on the other side of the river.
"What are you doing?" Ariana cried as the tree burst into flames.
Growling deep in his chest, not even seeming to hear her, Murtagh bared his teeth in a feral snarl and hurled another fireball into the same tree, from which flaming branches were already falling, the fire spreading.
He stumbled back, his face slick with sweat, his head bowed.
"Adurna," Ariana whispered, drawing on her own magic, reaching out to the water in the river before her. By her command, it snaked over to the trees and grass, quenching the flames before seeping back into the river bed.
He was gasping for air, veins cording his arms and tendons standing out in his neck.
"Are you okay?" Ariana warily stepped closer to him, watching a droplet of water slide down a lock of his wet hair and drip onto his shoulder, slipping lazily over his clavicle.
He didn't respond, just kept his head bowed, breathing heavily. Behind them the river gurgled, but the sound to her seemed melancholy, lonely. Like the roar of the ocean; the unceasing, despairing call of a broken soul to a lost lover.
Unthinkingly, she put her hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "Murtagh. Look at me." Her voice was soft, coaxing.
Murtagh's silver eyes, like thunderclouds on a rainy afternoon, peeked at her through long black lashes. He looked exhausted. Tired. But his eyes held no traces of tears. They just looked shattered.
Opening her mouth, Ariana realized that there was nothing she could say to lessen his pain, or hers. But what she did realize was that they had both been hurt the same way, were feeling the same pain.
On a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his chest, tightening her grip on him slowly. Murtagh felt like a straight board of hard wood in her arms, but Ariana held on to him, and gradually she felt him relax.
Softly, Murtagh rested his warm hands on her waist, bending gingerly towards her. Ariana stifled a smile and pushed her face into his chest, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. The scent of a rain-soaked earth suffused her, and she allowed herself a smile, hidden by his body. He smelled divine. He had good taste in scents, she decided. It was an elvish custom for the elves to choose a smell and sing it into their skin – she had done it on her eighteenth birthday, as her own private celebration. It had never occurred to her that Murtagh would have learned of the custom, under Galbatorix's command as he was. He was just full of surprises.
And another surprise hit her. Murtagh's arms folded around her and drew her closer, and in a few moments she felt him bend over her, dropping his face into her hair, practically nuzzling her. She could feel his breath coming in heated, soft puffs at the base of her neck.
Ariana was shocked. He was the king of control, he barely knew her, and he was holding her so tightly – intimately, she corrected. The embrace was intimate, and she loved it. Heat spilled through her body, and as she burrowed herself further into him Murtagh tightened his grip, nearly bending her backwards as clutched her close.
For a few moments Ariana's mind sprang into overanalyzing mode. Was this his way of admitting that he was attracted to her the way she was to him? Or was Murtagh just seeking comfort in the one person he could find, especially because she was suffering the same? Did he expect her to try to kiss him? Should she? How would he react?
But Murtagh was still now, his grip so crushing it was nearly painful. She could feel him trembling, and carefully extricated her right arm, keeping her left wound around his chest. Her right arm snaked around his neck, her hand resting on it, applying slight pressure as she cradled his head. She desperately wanted to slide her fingers into his hair, but resisted the urge. Too soon for that.
Gingerly, Ariana let herself relax; let him hold her. It was nice to completely unload herself onto someone else, to let another person deal with her problems. Well, Murtagh wasn't doing that, but at least he was hugging her as if the world was crashing down around them. Which, in a sense, it was.
But she couldn't stay slumped against him for long. Murtagh's hands burned her waist and back where he was touching her, and she was beginning to grow conscious of the hard, chiseled muscles under her hands, pressing up against her. He was a young man and she was a girl, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She was breathing quickly, hoping he wouldn't catch the sound of her panting. What was he doing to her?
Something loud sounded in her ears, coming from down by her shoulder, and Ariana blinked in surprise. Murtagh's breath was coming in loud pants too, but his face was buried deep in the junction of her neck and shoulder. She could feel his lips against his skin and shivered involuntarily.
Against her, Murtagh stiffened. Her heart stopped.
In one swift movement, he stepped away from her. Ariana stumbled back, her body giving way into air as the support of his arms and body left her, and she found herself unbalanced. When she looked up again, Ariana watched his back disappear among the trees.
Her breaths were shallow, and she sank down onto the wet grass. Fool, she thought bitterly. What had she expected from him, anyway? A proclamation of love for a murderer, for a girl he had just met, who had no hope of competing with Nasuada in looks or character?
The stars just didn't like her, it seemed. The first time she fell in love, he had cheated on her on what should have been their engagement night! And maybe even before then. Who knows. Orrin had a tendency to want to be in control, something probably brought on by feeling severely outranked during the Varden's war with Galbatorix, what with him having to fight alongside elves and dwarves…and ultimately Nasuada became queen, instead of his gaining power. Ariana had sympathized with him, and still did, but he had broken her heart so cruelly…
Rubbing a blade of damp grass between her fingers, plucking it lightly from the ground, Ariana sighed. It was time she stopped letting Murtagh drive her crazy every time he looked at her.
Suddenly she stood, wanting to tear his cloak from her body, but conscious of the torn dress below it. Hesitating for a moment, Ariana broke into a swift walk, making it back to the cave in minutes. Stepping behind a broad tree, she peered around the trunk and saw Murtagh off to the side of the rock formation hiding the cave, shooting arrow after arrow into another tree.
Refusing to watch him, knowing she would soon begin to admire his movements, Ariana slipped quietly into the cave. Hoping he wouldn't walk in, she dropped his cloak to the ground and, shivering as cold air pressed against the copious amounts of skin exposed by her shredded dress, pulled out some of the extra clothes she had brought.
Stepping out of the dress, she pulled on leggings, a tunic with loose sleeves just past her elbows that fell mid-thigh, and boots that reached slightly below her kneecaps. Strapping her thin belt around her hips, Ariana attached her sword to it, hid a few knives on her, and pulled out her bow and quiver. She deposited the quiver diagonally over her abdomen, feeling the familiar weight of the strap on her body, and slung the bow over her shoulder.
Leaving the dress, cloak, and everything else behind, she leaned slightly out of the cave. Murtagh was still on the side, and she could hear the twang of his bow. Ariana shook her head. He needed to find less destructive ways to release tension. Creeping out of the cave, she took a few running steps to reach the shelter of the trees. Glancing up, she saw a sky painted over with the warm oranges and pinks of sunset, but no red shape circling above. Where was Thorn?
No matter, really. Ariana broke into a fast run, the trees blurring around her as she hurtled through them, leaping over the river Murtagh had held her by. But after a few more minutes, she settled into an easy loping run, moving rapidly but at a steady pace that she knew she could sustain for days.
Nightfall cloaked her as she bounded over rocks and between trees, thanking her small size that saved her from having to duck to avoid being hit in the face by low-hanging branches. Her thighs and calves burned, and her chest was heaving, but the motion kept her warm even though the temperature was falling fast. She knew that going too far north would lead her into ice and snow, but at the moment all she wanted was to put as much distance between herself and Murtagh as possible. She would change direction later if she needed to.
A loud thud vibrated in her ear, and Ariana instinctively dove to the side, huddling into a tight ball at the base of a tree and looking up. Something huge skimmed the treetops before veering upwards, letting the moonlight back in. Another thud, so powerful that the ground beneath her vibrated with the sound.
Gasping for air, flattening her body against the ground, thankful for the soft light green tunic, black leggings, and brown boots that helped her blend in, along with the darkness of the night, Ariana searched the sky – or what she could see of it – with her eyes. A massive bulk glided past the trees again, and Ariana whimpered involuntarily, her lips slightly parted in shock. Nothing else had a bulk that immense – and the moonlight had glinted off of scales a distinctive ruby red.
Thorn was above her.
Closing her eyes, Ariana took a moment to ensure that her mental walls were secure – although if Thorn wanted to break in, he could. Her only hope was that he didn't know she was there – but she doubted that. Taking in a soft breath through her teeth, hoping his ears weren't sensitive enough to hear her, Ariana rose silently into a crouch. The instant she saw the edge of his wing tip away from her, watched him soar upwards, she broke into a run.
Within moments, Ariana knew she had made a colossal, unforgivable mistake. She should have stayed where she was, and stayed quiet. But she had made herself into an obvious target.
She could hear footfalls behind her, falling fast against the ground, coming up behind her with the fiendish speed only elves – and Riders, and she – possessed. Tensing her body, Ariana sped up, flying over the ground, her hair streaming out behind her, loose in the slipstream of her body.
But even though she was moving so fast that her body was protesting with cramps, Ariana couldn't lose those steady feet behind her. For fear of crashing into a tree or tripping over an extended root, she couldn't look back to see how far behind her he was. But she knew he was there.
Veering sharply to her left, Ariana hurdled a large rock in her path and dashed between to trees, barely able to breathe. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go this fast – such speed was beyond even her formidable endurance. How on earth was Murtagh keeping up?
Another thud above her – the sound must have been created by the dragon's wings flapping, she realized – and Ariana nearly sobbed out loud from the anger, fear, disappointment, and physical pain. She wasn't going to make it. Even if she lost Murtagh, Thorn would track her. Why couldn't they just let her be?
Murtagh was gaining on her now, but Ariana's limbs were trembling with the effort to keep running. She could hear him coming closer. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Ariana's fingers fumbled with the belt she wore, and she freed her sword from it.
Leaping ahead, putting a small extra distance between them, she whirled around, her sword readied for a fight, her chin raised, a trickle of sweat running down the side of her neck. Murtagh slowed to a halt, eyeing her blade warily but refusing to draw his own. Coward.
"Leave," Ariana ordered, panting slightly from the run. Elves really had marvelous lungpower – and because of them, so did she. More than anything, she wanted to sink down to the ground and cry herself dry, but she kept herself steady. She would not be coerced into staying with him again. Once was enough.
"We're being followed," Murtagh said calmly, his arms folded across his chest. "Thorn found them. These people won't let us go – I don't know if they're searching for you or me. We need to leave here."
She shook her head. "You need to leave. I won't."
"We've been through this, Thorn won't leave you and neither will I!"
Ariana froze him with an icy glare. She imagined icicles hanging from her words as they slipped in a faux-sweet voice from her lips. "Then stay here. But I won't stay with you."
Without warning, a mental probe smashed against her mind, and Ariana stumbled back with a cry. But it wasn't Murtagh – it was Thorn.
Ariana, he began.
Leave.
Ariana, he said again, Please. Murtagh – he doesn't understand because he doesn't want to. But I want to talk to you, and even though he acts like he doesn't, he wants you to stay too. We both owe you a life debt, child. Let us take care of you now.
There is nothing you need to protect me from. And nothing you can.
I broke the minds of the men pursuing you, without letting them discover who I was, Thorn said, bloodlust seeping through their mental connection, paralyzing her with fear before he quashed it. I discovered some rather…interesting things.
Why didn't you just kill them on the spot?
Thorn didn't reply, and Ariana sensed a strange reluctance from him. And then she figured it out: he was baiting her. And her curiosity was too strong for her not to take it. What had Thorn found out? Whatever it was, it had better be worth it. Or there would be hell to pay.
She scowled. Fine. I'm staying. But only for one more day.
We'll see. Thorn prepared to leave her mind; she could feel it. And, little one. Thank you.
He left her, and Ariana rubbed her arms, fighting off her body's sudden reaction to the freezing temperatures. But she couldn't deny that Thorn's epithet for her – little one, something she knew he reserved for Murtagh – had warmed her. Someone, at least, cared about her. Truth be told, she had wanted Murtagh to beg her to stay, but even if he wouldn't bend his pride, or just didn't care, at least his dragon would. Ariana knew it was selfish, but she needed, lately more than ever, the reassurance that someone cared. It would be even nicer to be loved, but that was more than she could hope for.
And Thorn's bulk swooping overhead blurred before her eyes as they filled with tears.
Reviews, pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze?
Story Recommendations for today:
Secrets and Lies by PJOHPHGLOVE
Assassin: Forget by sapphiques-and-angelfire
The Big Three Daughters: Pokemonchen
Someone to Watch Over Me – ArthursCamelot
All of these are GREAT stories, all for different series, some of which I have read and one which I haven't, but that doesn't matter. If you have extra time, please check them out! There are more suggestions on my favorites page, but PLEASE check the rating before reading.