The Dinner – Chapter 3

Eragon refrained from muttering curses under his breath at the cringe-worthy turn in events, but not due to any level of maturity – he knew for a fact that Arya would pick up each individual word with her elven hearing and hold those same individual words against him for all eternity. Boy, could she hold a grudge. He remembered the first and last time he'd ever brought her flowers – she'd burst into tears, healed their roots and replanted them in the garden, and then promptly started screaming at him for killing an innocent living thing.

After that, she hadn't spoken to him for a week.

"You're just going to have to live with it, dear," Arya informed him.

Eragon jerked upright, eyes wide with horror. He was going to have to live with it? He was going to have to live. With it. Surely life wouldn't be so cruel? No. He would die before living under the same roof as Islanzadi!

"My mother is an integral part of my life," she continued forcefully, "and we will have to visit her from time to time."

Thank god! Arya was referring to the visits, not actually living with it. The mate's mother.

Not that that was much better. One hour-long visit was felt like a lifetime of torture, planned in exquisite detail so that with each second the pain multiplied in intensity a thousand times.

But Eragon was not yet resigned to his fate. He spied hope of escape lurking in the guise of a passer-by on the street, trying his best to look unnoticeable and avoid the gaze of everyone he passed.

"MURTAGH!" Eragon shouted.

The red dragon rider flinched and hurried over before anyone else on the road could register that he was there. He was uncomfortable in the public eye as the national prodigal son. Although, only half the population were really welcoming to him to the point of worship. The other half considered him to be a terrifying, dangerous person who was not to be trusted, and were only grateful that for now he seemed to be on their side.

"What?" he hissed, making sure his hood was pulled fully over his face, casting shadows over him. It did nothing to put people at ease that perhaps he wasn't just a monstrous killing machine.

"Eragon…" Arya warned.

"Just five minutes, and an extra five metres for privacy," the Rider pleaded, not forgetting the invisible chain that Arya had transferred to his ankle. He put on his best innocent face and although Arya was suspicious, she couldn't see anything wrong with the request, so she relented.

Murtagh and Eragon moved further away, but Eragon was aware that she could probably still hear him and kept his surface conversation with Murtagh very ordinary-looking.

"So how's things?" he asked, his face a polite mask. You have to help me, man!

"Been better. I'm trying to go incognito, ya know?" Murtagh replied pointedly. With what? You look fine to me.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. How's Thorn doing?" The mate's taking me to Islanzadi's place! I'll be killed! Destruction will rain down on me! That woman is pure evil!

"Still insane." There was a nuance to his voice that told Eragon that Murtagh wasn't just referring to the dragon. Damn him for his wit. Oh yeah? And what do you want me to do about it?

"Getting better though, right?" Maybe help me break through this damn invisible chain around my leg! It's cutting off my circulation!

"All the time." Please stop the dramatics.

I'M NOT BEING DRAMATIC!!!! "Well that's alright, then. Is he still refusing to talk to Saphira? She's still open about the idea of a dragon heart-to-heart. Or would that be a heart of hearts to heart of hearts? Hmm." Can't you use a special spell Galby taught you? Break this chain around my neck and I will totally owe you my life.

"Yep, he's not budging. He hates just about everyone at the moment, Saphira in particular because, if you remember, she did bite a foot off of his tail. Give it another month or so and I'm sure he'll be willing to see her, if only to try to kill her." You already owe me your life. Besides, I don't know anything like that. What Galbatorix taught me was mainly designed for killing stuff.

"That's good to know." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

"See ya later, Eragon."

Murtagh started walking away, and after a furtive glance over his shoulder, Eragon discarded all attempts at subtlety and launched himself at the man, turning him and grabbing onto his lapels and shaking him like a ragdoll. "Please, Murtagh! PLEASE!!!? GODAMMIT HELP ME!!!!!!!!"

Murtagh made eye-contact with someone over Eragon's shoulder and smiled. He took three steps backwards and the chain around Eragon's leg snapped taut.

Eragon was having none of it. He readjusted his grip and held on tight, even as his last hope of escape tried to move away from him. He was lifted off of the ground by his arms and leg, pulled straight between the two. "YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!!!"

Murtagh smiled. He was obviously amused by Eragon's predicament. He reached out one hand and flicked Eragon in the middle of his forehead.

The Blue Rider squealed in outrage and let go of Murtagh, clutching both hands to his forehead and looking at Murtagh accusingly before he realised his mistake and toppled towards the ground head first. His brother left with a jaunty whistle while Eragon lay, nursing his head, as Arya came up to him.

I hate you, he sent to Murtagh as the Red Rider went out of sight.

Liar.

"Well, Eragon," said Arya with a tight smile. "Shall we continue?"

I want a divorce.