Yo! I'm back, and I'm so sorry for the wait! I haven't got any suggestions for songs yet, so I'm going to throw some in here and there, but I still want you guys to send me anything so long as it doesn't break the rules I mentioned before. So, for a brief summary of what has happened so far in the story;

Eragon nearly killed Arya's real father whose name is Zeratide who is a Rider from the original order, and was Brom's then Vrael's apprentice. Zeratide negotiated a cease-fire between the Varden and the Empire for one year, so he would have enough time to train Eragon. After this, Zeratide jumped off a cliff, performed some Parkour, and told Arya that he is her father. And now, on with the show…


Previously…

Zeratide looked her dead in the eye, pain obvious in every feature of his face. "Her name was Islanzadi, and her mate was Evander. You are my daughter, Arya."


Arya, for the first time in her life, stood flabbergasted. "W-what?" she said, her voice shaking. "You are my daughter," Zeratide answered, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She recoiled from him as if he was a snake, and ran off towards the city. Zeratide watched her go, a solitary tear gliding down his face. He got, up, and discreetly followed her. He had a feeling that when in times of emotional turbulence, she would be just like her mother, and he wished to minimize casualties…


Eragon jerked up to the edge of his cot, panting as if he had climbed that damned tower a thousand times. Another of his visions had appeared before him. There were few actual images this time, merely a black sword, a flash of lightning, a spurt of blood. What scared him was the sensation he had felt. He could smell the blood, feel the burning sting of the lightning, and screamed as the sword ripped him in two. His hands shaking, he put on his cloak, brushed off his pants, and walked outside, trying to put his mind at ease. The air was far too hot, causing his torso to be covered in a thin layer of sweat. He looked himself over, and decided that he needed a bath. He walked down to a stream, and followed the resounding noise of a waterfall. He would be able to clear his mind in the soothing waters.


Arya ducked behind a boulder, trying again to shake off the man she knew she must face. She was hyperventilating, and she couldn't see for the tears on her face. Her emotions were a verbal maelstrom, a storm she had so long kept locked away, a storm that had finally been released by a man she had never even known… would her life have been different, she wondered. If he had been there for her, would she have been able to save Faolin? Would she ever have even met him? So many paths she had taken in life, they all now seemed to have been a dead end, taking her to, and causing her to do, things that would haunt her dreams forever. She could still see the face of everything she had ever killed, could still hear their cries, and could still feel their blood lightly splashing against her skin…. She looked at her hands to see that her fingernails had cut into her palms to distract her from the pain she was feeling in her heart.

She wondered if it was the same for him.

She heard the rumble of a waterfall, and decided that a cool bath was just what she needed to ease her mind.


Eragon finally reached the waterfall, and, stripping himself of his clothing, walked to the center of the onslaught, letting the force relax his sore muscles, the roar of the water pounding his ears. He pondered everything that Zeratide had told him, and he slowly forgot the vision, opting for the much more relaxing present. He knew that sooner or later the past and future would collide again, and until then, he could not dwell on it without losing the present. Two and a half years… that was how long he had been a Rider. He couldn't believe that less than three years ago, he had been a simple farm boy, working with his cousin and uncle. And now, he was a killer, someone who must fight to survive; he was a magician, a man who learned to kill him enemies with a single word, offering no chance for survival; he was a fortune-teller, for want of a better word. He sighed, and lowered himself further into the water. He finally decided to ponder the issue that caused him the most unrest.

Arya.

She haunted his dreams, taunting him with unrequited love. He so desperately wanted her to allow him to love her, and yet, he could not bring down the iron walls surrounding her heart. He had weakened them, had convinced her to show her emotions, but she still hid for the most part. He wondered if Zeratide might be able to help him in this regard, and he slowly nodded off, his weariness finally taking him as he gently floated in the water.


Zeratide followed her trail, and was continually impressed by how well she managed to hide herself from pursuers. He could have found her with his mind, but she was in a state of despair, and if she truly wanted to be alone, he knew he would be unable to find her. He sniffed the air, and found a faint trace of her scent. Following, he soon came close to a waterfall. He snuck up to the crags of the cliff it fell from, and saw her in the waters of the lake underneath. He could smell another scent, far more scattered, and, looking down, paled when he saw Eragon in the water beneath him, dozing against the shore directly under the waterfall and against the cliffs. He frowned for a moment, then covered up all traces of his presence, and returned to Aelana.


Arya gave a contented sigh as the cool water soothed her skin, helping her maintain her focus. She focused her thoughts as she cleaned several days' worth of grime from travel and battle from her body. She considered all of her various memories of her childhood, her heartbreak at Evander's death, growing up without a father. Islanzadi had become detached from the rest of the world, dealing only with matters of politics, and her supposed daughter. She had treated both with polite indifference. After Faolin's death, Arya had understood how her mother had felt, and had forgiven her twice: once in Durza's dungeon of torture, and again in Ellesmera. Now she had two more parents to forgive of their shortcomings. She thought about Aelana, remembering how she had acted on the several occasions that she had been assigned to teach Arya. She had seemed far prouder of her pupil than a normal teacher, and now the reason was fairly obvious. But if she had loved her daughter so much, why had she not told her who she was? Why had she allowed her daughter to go through so much heartbreak, building walls around her, isolating her so that only one man managed to bypass them? What had made Eragon capable of such a feat?

Your willingness, a voice said. You allowed no other man to come close to you. Indeed, the only way they managed to talk to you was if you allowed them. Only your will would have allowed Eragon to see your heart, and come out, not a man who was scared further of you, but a man who was drawn closer to you. A tear ran down her cheek. She knew that she had hurt the young man deeply, but she feared what would happen to both of them if she allowed herself to discover how she felt about him. She knew that they were closer than most, even she couldn't deny that. But was it really love? Was it attraction? Or was it more? What was it that made the man feel so strongly about her? Passion, the voice interjected again. Not merely physical attraction, or love, for these are incomplete. He lives a life of passion. Whenever he is faced with anything, he puts the entirety of his being into it. If he says he loves you, than he would lay down his life for you, would do anything just to see your smile, to hear your laugh, to be graced with you presence. This is not merely young love, Arya. This is an opportunity for destiny. Why do I not say this is destiny? For we make our own destiny.

For some reason, her gaze shifted to the waterfall, and she noticed that on the immediate shore, there was a small bundle of clothes consisting of a man's trousers and a cloak. She was not alone. She cautiously reached out with her mind, and froze when she sensed Eragon, albeit asleep. He had apparently arrived before her, and had not seen her, but her cheeks instantly turned a fiery shade of red. She then paused, listening to the music of his consciousness, revealing a piece of his being.

The music was soft, and soothing, containing joy and sorrow in equal measure. It sounded like the sharp tones of a flute, combined with the slow beat of the drum. But the greatest sound came from the things he had experienced. He heard his laughter as a child, heard his tears when he was injured, and the gentle words he had been consoled with. She heard the twang of a bowstring, and heard soft words of comfort whispered to his dying prey. The sound of his travels, the sound of a slashing sword, a dying enemy, a dying friend…

And then, there was silence.

She feared it even more.

And then, she heard something that he had never told anyone about. She heard Angela's prophecy. She saw the possibilities play out in his mind, and they all were present: the realistic, the fantastic, the joyful, the sorrowful… but they all ended with one thing. They ended with his disappearance from Alagaesia, forever. And here, they stopped, for there were only two possibilities at this point. He would leave alone, or she would join him. The effect would be so drastic, that he would not be able to foresee anything else until it was settled.

She quickly retreated into her own mind, disappearing before Eragon softly murmured her name.


Well, there you go! I am once again sorry that it took so long. I'm considering having four songs for an appearance in the next chapter, so I'm going to list then, and you can vote for them on a poll that I will put up shortly on my profile. The songs are:

My Wish, by Rascal Flatts, sung by Zeratide as a father-to-daughter thing

What Hurts the Most, by Rascal Flatts, sung by Eragon to try and explain to Arya what the title of the song dictates

Fallin' For You, by Colbie Callait, sung by Arya to have a situation where she realizes how she is falling for Eragon

Don't Let Go, from the Spirit of the Cimarron soundtrack, as a duet by Eragon and Arya, in a romantic type of situation where they figure out how they feel.

Only one will appear next chapter, and it will slightly change the story. Till next time… Zeratide, out.