Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle nor the Harry Potter series. The two series are owned, respectively, by Christopher Paolini and Joanne Rowling. I have just taken the liberty of playing with their works.

Slowly, And Then All At Once

Beta'ed by Byakko no Akuba

Chapter Ten: Dras-Leona

~ BWaC ~

"Are you okay?"

Helena looked over at Eragon, riding on Cadoc a few metres away. He was looking over at her with a concerned frown. Even Brom, who was riding further ahead of them, glanced back at her as Eragon spoke, with some sort of glint in his eye.

"I'm fine," Helena smiled softly.

"You sure?" Eragon pressed. "You haven't been speaking much…" He chewed lightly on his lower lip. "If it's about what happened the other night-."

"Eragon, I'm fine," Helena told him, perhaps just a little bit more snappishly than she had meant to. Eragon flinched lightly, making Helena sigh. "Sorry. I just haven't been feeling like talking. But I am fine."

"If you're sure," the reply came from Eragon. It was clear he didn't really believe her, but he left her be. She looked up at Brom, who quickly looked ahead. It made her sigh again.

'They are not wrong, you know,' Godric told her.

'I know,' Helena didn't bother arguing with him. 'And you, better than anyone else, knows as well.'

'I do, and I don't blame you. You know that,' Godric told her with affection. It made Helena smile, and a rush of her own affection ran through their link to match Godric's.

Helena sighed. She really couldn't afford herself to go all to pot. The night at the Merchant's Rest shouldn't have happened. Thinking of home... that couldn't be avoided anymore, not after the dream she had, and neither was it healthy, but she couldn't let it affect her as it did. She supposed she should count her lucky stars that her breaking point had only been reached then; the last months of training had occupied her mind, and before that she had been taking care of Godric. Not once had she let herself sit down for a moment's rest and just let it hit her – that she might just not ever get home again. She hadn't let herself sit down and just feel; feel scared, feel angry, feel that the world was unjust, feel that the world was against her once again.

The homesickness, or whatever you should call the feeling of not being able to get home again, was enough to mess with anyone, but Helena also had to deal with how utterly out of place she felt in Alagaësia. She was a headstrong person, perhaps too much so at times, but she had come to love herself for who she was. People who she thought were her friends might turn on her, the papers and press might turn on her, but she knew who she was, and she took pride in that. And in Alagaësia she couldn't be herself, at least not without hiding herself away; as Brom had put it, she was not compatible with what they were doing. The situation had basically taken away one of her largest sources of strength.

Thinks didn't have to be honky-dory, but a few months – weeks even – where she didn't have to hide herself away or explain herself and her actions would be a blessing.

It was tough, no question about it. And she got a deep, crushing suction feeling in her chest when she thought about it. But she was not going to sit around and wallow in her misery. While she appreciated the qualities the other three houses represented, and she even had some of them, she was a Gryffindor at heart: she was a woman of action. So she was going to see this Ra'zac business through with Eragon, she was going to help Godric get revenge on Galbatorix, and then she was going to work her hardest to find out what the hell had happened to her. But, and this was important, she was not going to act like she was definitely going to go home again. There was a very real possibility that she was going to stay in Alagaësia permanently. Even if she actually found out what had happened to her, it didn't necessarily mean that she was going to be able to reverse whatever process that had transported her to the Spine.

In the end it was a lot of if's and crossed fingers, both of which Helena disliked thoroughly. So, for now, she needed to think in the short-term. And the short-term was assisting Eragon and Godric.

"That is Helgrind," Brom spoke up hours later, after Dras-Leona had just become visible over the horizon, and answering the question Eragon had asked months earlier. He was pointing slightly south of the city. "People here are fascinated with it, even though it's an unhealthy and malicious thing. It's because of Helgrind, that the Black King founded Dras-Leona here after the Fall."

Normally Helena would think such descriptions that Brom was using of an inanimate object was nonsense, but looking at the towering rock formation towering well over a mile over the flat land, she couldn't deny that something told her that it wasn't quite right. Even the minerals it was made of, a deep black kind, was completely out of place: all around them the minerals were almost red and mostly sandy, and nowhere did black rocks jag out of the ground. It was almost as if a Dementor had tainted the mountain. Momentarily Helena wondered if it could be anything like Azkaban, and shuddered at the comparison.

"I can't imagine why," it came from Helena dryly.

"How are they fascinated with it?" Eragon asked, ever the curious one, even about subjects as the one they were approaching. It was dangerous, but Helena appreciated that about Eragon. He, for the most parts, didn't shy away. Truth was Truth, no matter if you ignored it or not.

"They worship it in a manner of speaking," Brom told them, getting a dark look on his face. "They drink human blood and sacrifice living humans to Helgrind. It isn't unusual for their priests to be missing body parts, as they believe the more bones and tendons they sacrifice, the less connected one is to the mortal world. They spend much time discussing which of Helgrind's three peaks are the tallest and most important, and if the fourth, and lowest, should be included in their rituals. It's a terrible religion."

"That's horrible," Eragon said, his eyes wide as he looked at the black mountain. He had grown steadily paler as Brom had told about the religion. If the subject hadn't been so ghastly, Helena would've found it comical. She could probably replicate the result by telling Eragon about women's reproductive system. In the back of her mind, she heard Godric snicker.

"Why do they do it?" Helena asked with a frown.

Eragon glanced at her. "Do they need one? They are obviously twisted and raving mad."

"They might be, but people rarely do anything without a reason – even if that reason only makes sense to one who is twisted and raving mad," Helena told him.

The younger boy looked as if he was about to argue, but stopped himself. "Really?" He still sounded unsure, biased towards his own opinion, but he was asking. Brom's lessons had worked after all.

"Really," Brom nodded, confirming what Helena had said.

"There were a people back home named the Aztecs," Helena started telling, making Eragon look at her again. "They also practiced human sacrifice. They believed it to be crucial, as the Sun God needed nourishment in the form of human blood, life force essentially, in order to keep the sun moving from east to west."

"That still sounds crazy," Eragon told her flatly.

Helena shrugged. "There is logic to it. I don't believe in gods, but never have I seen a religion without its own logic to it."

"Even the witch burnings?" Eragon challenged. Helena's mood soured considerably.

"Witch burnings?" Brom asked, confused. So she explained.

"But yes," she told Eragon after having explained it to Brom. "Even the witch burnings had logic to them. The Christian church believed witchcraft and sorcery to be the work of the devil – the personification of evil." She clarified the last part, as she had done many times before, at the looks of confusion which flashed across their faces. It didn't exactly help with the mood she had been in since the night of her midnight flight.

"You should listen to her," Brom told Eragon in a severe tone. "I don't know the logic behind the Helgrind religion, but I'm sure there is one. Humans – well, all sentient beings, to be fair – rarely do anything without a logical reason."

Eragon nodded, looking thoughtful.

It wasn't long after that they reached the gates of Dras-Leona. Helena used the time to get into character – because, yes, she was going to play someone else. She still didn't agree with Brom on much, but, for now at least, she needed to hide. So the story was that Eragon and she were cousins, being born to Brom's brother and sister respectively. It would explain why Helena's clothes and overall complexion was more refined and of higher quality, as she would've been raised by another, and obviously richer, family. It was decided that their family would be from Teirm, as that was the city which had the highest probability of lower-class citizens marrying up the social ladder. Well, they chose Teirm because of that, but also because both she and Eragon could answer questions about it, if someone got curious. And if anyone asked, then they were visiting family in Feinster, and had chosen to go by land to see some of the country. A bit more unusual, but not unheard of. Normally a family wouldn't have spread so far, but both Teirm and Feinster were coastal centres of trade, so no-one would question that someone might've fallen in love while visiting the other city.

Helena sat up straighter and got a guarded look on her face as they approached the city. Dras-Leona's layout was... odd to put it mildly. She might've been spoiled living in Teirm for so long, which had been rebuilt with defensive purposes after it had been burned to the ground, but that couldn't be the entire story. Dras-Leona, unlike Teirm, allowed buildings belonging to the city proper to be built outside of its walls, almost dividing the city in two. That wasn't what was odd, as having a defensive sanctum for everyone to retreat to in case of an attack was a sound strategy. No, what puzzled Helena to no end was why the houses – shacks, truly – outside of the walls were so tightly packed together. Inside of the walls it would be understandable, as there was limited space, but that wasn't the case outside of the walls; there was nothing stopping them from just expanding outward. It was almost as if they were reluctant to move further away from the city, and it couldn't merely be because of them being frightened of an attack. It was all very... strange.

Their small group all dismounted as required as they approached the large gates, and walked into Dras-Leona.

The wall wasn't as tall, or as sturdy, as the one in Teirm, but it was still enormous. The gate they walked through was large enough for ten soldiers to stand guard on each side of the road, and still leave plenty of room for travellers with wagons to travel through. Helena only just managed to wonder if Dras-Leona would be as pleasant as Teirm was, when that hope was shattered as they entered the access road proper.

"Merlin…" escaped Helena's lips before she could help it, and she prepared herself for a nonverbal berating from Brom. Instead he just shot her an understanding look, before putting his arm around her shoulders like a protective uncle would. Eragon, who was just as, if not more, affected as her, walked close to her on the other side, his left hand hovering over the dagger Helena knew he had in his belt. The horses walked behind them, clearly also feeling the oppressive air of the city they had just entered.

The houses just past the gates were tall and slim to compensate for the lack of room. The result of this was extremely tall buildings which leant slightly over the road, and thus blocking much of the sunlight. That, put together with the dark, brown wood which most of the buildings were built of, made the street extremely dark and unwelcoming. But it wasn't as much that which had shocked Helena: the architecture was not at all unlike that of Diagon Alley, though the magical shopping street was much lighter, and had been so even during Tom's short, though violent, reign. No, what shocked her were the people.

Urchins ran across the street and between the houses, fighting over scraps of food. Beggars sat along the street, most of them deformed, most likely due to the Helgrind religion. Children sat with them as well, and Helena was at least relieved to notice that while, yes, there was a child here and there who was missing a limb, they didn't seem to be practicing the mutilation. The children with missing limbs had most likely lost them to sickness and injuries, and while that was horrible as well, it comforted Helena that no-one had taken a healthy foot from them. In these conditions, that could mean the difference between life and death for a street child.

Compared to Teirm, the citizens of Dras-Leona were definitely worse off. Teirm was old and wealthy, and the distribution of wealth, while not uniform, left very few very wanting. The number of beggars that the entirety of Teirm had was about equal to that of the beggars of the access street of Dras-Leona. That was a scary thought, because Helena was sure that the whole city would be filled with them. It was beginning to dawn on her, that it wasn't only Helgrind which wasn't quite right – it was Dras-Leona as well.

'I don't like it,' Godric told her. 'I have a bad feeling about this.'

Helena raised a mental eyebrow – or at least the feeling accompanying it. 'You have a bad feeling?' Godric, and Saphira, didn't get 'bad feelings'. Yes, they trusted their instincts, but then they said that it was their instincts. Helena didn't know if it was a dragon thing or a Godric and Saphira thing, but she highly suspected it was the former.

'Yes,' Godric answered dryly. 'I guess you're rubbing off on me.' Helena rolled her eyes at his tone, knowing that he had gotten miffed as he was prone to get. 'But I'm serious.'

'We talked about this the other day,' Helena told him patiently. 'I'm with Eragon and Brom. And I know you don't trust them, so you will have to trust me.'

'I do,' Godric told her frustrated. 'But we are stronger together. And while you are also strong alone, and you have gotten better with your magic and with that pointy piece of metal, you are not as strong as you were before our bonding.' He paused, calming himself. 'We're stronger together. We're meant to fight side by side.'

Helena really loved him.

'We are,' she agreed. 'But we won't always be able to do that. We are stronger together, but we cannot allow ourselves to grow dependent on each other when we fight. We must be able to hold our own ground. You know that.'

'It seems like that is all we do,' Godric sighed. 'But I know you're right.'

Helena sent him a rush of affection, trying to comfort. 'It will get better. I promise.'

"I don't want to be here," Eragon said in a low voice to them. Helena was surprised by how broken his voice sounded. She glanced at him to see the horror written across his face. It hurt her. Not even second-guessing the motion, she grabbed his hand – his right hand, as his left hand was still hovering over his dagger. It was slightly awkward, with both of them holding the reins to Cadoc and Alfisgr, but Helena didn't care about that for the moment. Eragon glanced at her, and for the first time he didn't blush at physical contact with her. He simply searched her eyes, before nodding to her.

"It gets better further in," Brom told them both. "Right now we find an inn. We can plan our next move there. I don't want us out on the streets longer than what is highly necessary."

It was clear by the way that Brom lead them, that he didn't know his way around as well as he did with Fasaloft. It wasn't surprising: while Helena didn't know Brom's secrets, she had long since guessed that he wasn't on good terms with Galbatorix. That meant it wouldn't exactly be smart of him, to stay in the city where Galbatorix's influence is felt the most apart from the capital. Helena wouldn't be surprised if the city was riddled with spies and perhaps even a hidden garrison or two – you know, in addition to the dozens, if not more, garrisons which were in plain sight.

After fifteen minutes they found lodging in the Golden Globe. It was a definite step down from the Merchant's Rest and couldn't even be compared to the Singing Seagull. If she had been in charge, she would've looked for something better, but she wasn't. And while she and Brom weren't best friends, she trusted him. More or less.

After having rented two rooms for the night – though, now that they were in Dras-Leona they would only be using one – and had taken a table as far away from everyone as they could, which really wasn't much, Helena quickly cast the Muffliato and Notice-Me-Not Charms after the wench had delivered a pitcher of beer and their dinner.

Like the inn the food wasn't much to talk about. Helena nibbled to it, but in the end didn't want to risk it. She would dig into her storage when they got up to the rooms, which had stayed untouched since she arrived in Teirm, bar for a few times while they were training. There was still enough food for a few months.

While Eragon and, to a lesser extent, Brom didn't look thrilled about the food either, they ate it. And they all but threw themselves at the beer. Since they were protected by charms, Brom had apparently not seen any harm in offering her a cup of beer. She had taken a look at the liquid, glancing up at the bar where the bartender spat on a glass before polishing it – which didn't help at all – and quickly declined.

Brom threw her an amused look.

"What?" Helena asked.

"We might have set a whole story up about you being from a richer merchant family and all, but you really are a little posh, aren't you?" he told more than asked. He was clearly already slightly tipsy.

Helena rolled her eyes. "It's called proper hygiene, you tosser." She looked down at her hands and, for once, was glad that they were gloved. "You say that I'm posh, but back home I wouldn't be..." She breathed in deeply, settling the feelings that stirring under the surface, and let the breath go. "Things are different here. I might take a sip of firewhiskey when we get to our rooms."

Brom shrugged, tipping the cup back and drinking the entirety of its content.

"So, what now?" Eragon asked. He was also drinking, but was still on his first cup, which was still half full.

"Tonight, we rest," the old storyteller decided. "Tomorrow we can start our search for the Ra'zac. Whatever you do, make sure you don't accidentally say something you shouldn't. These charms, while impressive, aren't invincible. The Black King has a whole group of spies who are magicians. If we get found out, we'll need to leave immediately."

For the next hour or so they ate slowly and, to Helena's genuine surprise, comfortable, talking about nothing of importance or in particular. After Brom's nose was so far down his cup of beer that Helena was starting to worry if he was able to breathe, and after Eragon was swaying slightly in his chair but clearly still aware, her fellow Rider turned to her with a frown.

"Back earlier," Eragon started, his voice only slightly slurred. "When we talked about Helgrind and the ass-tics."

Helena's mouth twitched. "Aztecs. But yes?"

Eragon nodded, "Yeah, those guys. You said you didn't believe in gods. Is it really true? I know that that church thingy burned your kind and that you didn't like them, but do you really not believe in anything?" The blue Dragon Rider was looking at her with curiosity, but he wasn't judging her. It was only because of that that she answered.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Eragon," Helena told him honestly, sloshing the water in her cup around as she got pensive. "Do you believe in any gods? Is there anyone in particular you direct your prayers to?"

"There isn't," Eragon shook his head. "But I still believe that there is something out there. In Carvahall there were small things that we did, like making an offering of food to keep the milk from turning sour and sprinkling goat's hair on the field to keep pests away." Helena frowned, but didn't bother pointing out the obvious. She wouldn't be able to convince him, especially when he was tipsy. He might not even remember the conversation the next day. "So, you don't think there are any gods?"

Helena sighed. "It's not that I'm saying that there aren't any, just that I'm not concerned by them. Back home I'm what is called agnostic, as many wizards and witches are. Sure, there are a sizeable portion who belong to an organized faith, but most don't. We're not saying that gods don't exist, but we haven't seen proof that they do. We simply don't concern ourselves with them."

Eragon let it sink in. "You don't worship anything? You don't believe in anything?"

The witch-turned-Dragon Rider shrugged. "I believe in cause and effect, wisdom as its own reward, and the inherent right of all free willed beings to exist."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, but I don't have the answer you're looking for, Eragon," Helena told him honestly. "I don't believe in any large being or beings. The way I see it, there are two options: either there are no gods, or there are gods, but they don't care about us who live in the mortal world. Either way, I don't concern myself with them."

Eragon spluttered. "What? What about a life after death?"

"Oh, I do believe in that," Helena told him straight away. "I know there is one. At least for magical beings." She didn't mention that she had actually spoken to a dead person – e.g. Dumbledore after Tom had killed her – for the same reason she didn't argue with him over the traditions of Carvahall.

"But-." Eragon started, but was cut off by Brom groaning. His head was lolling on the table, and spit was pooling on the wood from his open mouth.

"It's getting late," Helena told him. "Help me up with him."

Eragon didn't look even half-way finished but sighed and complied. They walked down a hallway – Helena was grateful that they weren't going upstairs, as she wasn't sure Eragon could do that with how much he swayed – and entered room seventeen. Letting Brom fall on the bed, Helena quickly entered room eighteen to make it look like someone had actually slept in there, before going back to room seventeen. By then Eragon was already snoring on the floor, looking strikingly like Brom. It made Helena smile.

She recovered blankets from her bag, throwing one over Eragon and putting one on the floor beside him where she laid down. She laid there for a while, simply looking at her counterpart.

Helena believed herself not to be a judgmental person. Don't get her wrong, she was a person full of strong opinions, and would argue for them if she got the chance, but, apart from a few instances, she didn't look down on people who didn't share her views. This was one of those few instances, however, and she was finding it hard not to judge here. Truth be told, while she didn't care for gods much, she had great respect in those that did; to be able to put so much faith in a concept and let go of all worries… Merlin only knows how many times she had needed that, and probably would need in the future. But that was not the same as the traditions, or superstitions, that Eragon had told her about. They were outright wrong. He didn't know that, but… she wondered if she told him if he would believe her.

She sighed.

'Do you truly believe that it's possible that gods could exist?' Godric asked her. Through their link she knew that he and Saphira was flying over the Leona lake, catching up to them. Well, most of the way, anyway.

'It's possible,' Helena told him, knowing that it was a strange concept for a dragon. And rightly so: dragons were magnificent and dangerous and beautiful. If one had that much power, it was hard to believe that there was something greater. Some wizards and witches were also like that and looked down on muggles because of it. Most, however, acknowledges the possibility: after all, didn't muggles believe them to be myth and superstition?

~ BWaC ~

For the entirety of the next morning Helena was overly chipper. Brom and Eragon paid for their indulgence the night before and glared steadily at her when she spoke in high and sharp notes, the mirth shining from her face. They did get better as Brom had a sort of miraculous cure consisting of enormous amounts of warm tea (if one could call the hot leaf juice they were drinking that) and ice water, which was finished off with a small amount of cognac. It might be a miraculous cure for a muggle, but it was nothing like the Pick-Me-Up brew (potion, really) which Madame Pomfrey had invented… and which was in Helena's bag. She would've offered it to them if Brom hadn't muttered some rather unsavoury things under his breath. As it was she might give it to Eragon later, though not before he had felt what a hangover felt like – she wouldn't be surprised if it was his first one, from the way he was moaning and groaning.

"First and foremost, we need to ask some discreet questions," Brom explained to them after they had returned to their room, Eragon and Brom no longer looking dead on their feet. "I want to know where in Dras-Leona the Seithr oil got delivered, and where it was sent from there. It's likely that there were soldiers and workers involved in the transportation. We need to find those men and get one of them to talk."

Looking for those men gave Helena her first opportunity to get a good look at Dras-Leona, and not just the few roads they walked the day before. Her instinct, that the city wasn't quite right, only got reaffirmed. You didn't need to be a genius to see that Teirm and Dras-Leona was as different as two cities could be. The only similarity that the two cities had, was that they both were built around a single building. In Teirm it was the citadel, and in Dras-Leona it was a palace, which Helena could only guess belonged to the lord of Dras-Leona. But even with that said, the reasons behind the cities being built around a single building were different: in Teirm it was to protect the city, while in Dras-Leona it was to rule over the city.

It was sickening to see such wealth used on not only the palace, but also, and even more so, on the cathedral, when so much of the city was steeped in poverty. The palace's courtyard was a mosaic made of mother-of-pearl, and part of the walls were engraved with gold. In recesses stood enormous black statues, probably made of the same kind of material as Helgrind, with burning incense in their hands. It was disgusting, as two streets over children were dying from hunger and exposure.

By the time noon had come and gone, and the three of them sat back at the Golden Globe for some lunch (this time from Helena's bag, thankfully), Brom was grumbling at their unfruitful search so far.

"We could split up?" Helena suggested. Brom looked at her, not entirely hostile. "You said it yourself earlier: This city is enormous. And it isn't like Teirm, where it's orderly. If we all stay together, it could take up to several weeks to find anything."

"It's necessary, I guess," Brom sighed. Then he looked up sternly at them. "But you two will stay together at all times. Keep away from the gates: it's highly unlikely that there will be anything of use near there, and it's where, apart from Tabór´s palace, most soldiers are posted."

"Of course," Eragon nodded. While he was serious, Helena could all but see him shake with excitement. That they were close to the Ra'zac was the reason, of course.

Brom saw it as well and looked to Helena. "I trust you'll keep the boy out of trouble? And try not to draw attention yourself?"

"Oi!"

"Of course," Helena nodded, pleased that he trusted her enough to ask that.

Eragon pouted. "I can take care of myself, you know."

Brom simply rolled his eyes, making Eragon fume more. "Just don't do anything stupid. We'll meet back here at dusk."

The two Dragon Riders nodded, and after they had finished their lunch, Brom went up towards the richer areas of Dras-Leona, while Helena and Eragon moved towards the markets, and further in that direction, the storehouses.

They had walked for a few minutes when Eragon, almost hesitantly, took her arm in his. Helena shot him a questioning look, and he reddened up in seconds.

"It's only proper, as you're my cousin," Eragon told her, not looking her in the eyes.

Helena's lips twitched. "Of course."

As they walked through the first market, they asked subtle questions here and there. For all the inconvenience that it brought that Helena was a woman and a little posh, and that she wore expensive clothes, here it actually helped. No one looked twice at her when she asked about pearls and how they were preserved – meaning Seithr Oil. What it also meant was that she could use some charm neither Eragon nor Brom could.

"Are you sure you can't tell me anything else?" Helena purred, leaning forward over the counter a bit to give a better view of her otherwise humble cleavage. Her right hand was lightly stroking the shop-owner's hand, as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

The shop-owner got a goofy smile on his face, his eyes momentarily flickering down. "I'm really sorry, my lady. But there isn't much to say. I buy my wares from elsewhere, everything already prepared."

Helena pouted and sighed deeply. "If you are sure…" She got back on her feet and tugged Eragon with her towards the door.

"Wait," the shop-owner said. Helena looked back at him, polite disinterest written over her face. He got out from behind his counter, drying his hands off in his dirty pants. "I don't know anything else, but my wares are always delivered from the same warehouse. Perhaps someone there knows something?"

Helena's face lit up, "Thank you so much." Stepping forward, she hesitated slightly, being fully in character. Smiling shyly, she leaned forward and kissed the shop-owner on the cheek, giggled, and went out of the shop with Eragon.

The two Dragon Riders walked in silence for a while, Helena browsing the wares of the booths standing around the streets. Here and there she bought a small thing, a small snack, a small funny gizmo, things like that, both to not draw attention to herself, but also to help these people in whatever small way she could.

When they walked past a dark, empty alleyway, Eragon grabbed her arm and tugged her down the side street. Helena frowned, but complied and followed. He might've seen something. Only he hadn't.

"What was that?" Eragon asked her sternly. Helena looked confused, which only seemed to piss off Eragon even more. "In the store!"

"Oh," Helena said, still confused at his reaction. "That was me getting us the information we needed."

"By acting like a harlot!?" he asked outraged.

"Yes, acting like it," Helena answered, starting to get pissed off herself. "We needed the information. Why should I not use the assets I have to get that information, when it will increase our chances?" Eragon blushed at the word 'assets', even though it hadn't been her breasts she had been directly referring to there.

"Why- But- You-" Eragon sputtered.

"Eragon," Helena said sternly, her own temper starting to rear its head. "I did what I had to. I'm not ashamed, and neither should you. So, I seduced a shop-owner to get information: so what? It's not like I shagged him or anything. So just… sod off about it!"

By now Eragon's eyes were as wide as saucers. Helena rolled her eyes and walked back towards the street. It was clear by the frosty atmosphere emanating from Eragon that he wasn't happy with her, but most fortunately, she wasn't there to please him.

The rest of the afternoon went by in silence. Before their argument, the two of them walking around had reminded Helena of that day in Teirm, but that couldn't be said anymore. She found that the longer she stayed in Alagaësia, the longer she had to explain herself, the longer she had to hide herself, the prissier she got.

By the time dusk rolled around, and their small party was gathered in the room again, some of the hostility between Eragon and Helena had calmed some, though it wasn't entirely gone. Brom saw it right away, but after a second or two of contemplation didn't seem to think it warranted a reaction from him.

"What are these," Brom asked with a frown, referring to a platter of fried meat. Helena instantly recognized them.

"Dragon tartare," Helena answered. "Or I guess wyvern tartare. They're incredibly tasteful, though they give you bad breath." Brom looked with wide eyes at the platter, and so did Eragon. Helena rolled her eyes. "Really, they are harmless. Look." She popped one of them into her mouth, their spices dancing the jive on her taste buds.

Eragon looked contemplating on her, before following her lead. His eyes widened at the amount spices, Helena would guess, but didn't motion to spit it out. A moment later Brom did the same.

"Not bad," Brom told her with a crooked smile. "So, did you find anything out."

"It was mostly just talk," Eragon shrugged. Then he hesitated. "But we did discover the warehouse where he got his wares from. We went to check it, and it seems to be the place. We couldn't find out anything else, though."

"What aren't you telling me?" Brom asked gruffly, looking straight at Eragon. The blue Dragon Rider looked decidedly uncomfortable. Helena just rolled her eyes.

"Eragon got his knickers in a twist, because I seduced a shop-owner to get the information," Helena told the storyteller. "Nothing dangerous, mind you, I just showed him a bit of cleavage, and he was babbling like a sailor on shore leave."

Brom barked out a laugh while Eragon blushed bright red again, looking away from Helena. "I like the way you do things." Helena smirked.

"Did you discover anything useful?" Helena asked, taking a bite of a shepherd's pie.

Brom shrugged. "I discovered several interesting things today, one of which is that Galbatorix will be visiting Dras-Leona within the next few weeks."

For several seconds nothing was said in the room. Then it sunk in.

"What!?"

"Are you serious!?"

Brom wasn't affected and took a sip of the cup of firewhisky – which Helena had allowed with his promise of not getting drunk again. "It would seem that Tabór has taken one too many liberties with his power, so the Black King has decided to visit and give him a lesson in humility."

"What an unusually considerate gesture," Helena said dryly.

"He isn't doing it for the people under Tabór," Brom smiled wryly, confirming what Helena hadn't said. "He couldn't care less if people die in Dras-Leona, but Tabór must've done something that in some indirect way has inconvenienced Galbatorix. And it must be significant, because it's the first time in a decade that the king has left Urû'baen."

"Do you think he knows about us?" Eragon asked, a worried frown marring his face.

"Of course he knows about us," Brom answered bluntly. His eyes shifted to Helena. "Well, at least about you. I don't know about Helena yet. The only one who would know about her is Jeod and the urgals, and Jeod doesn't know anything with certainty, and the urgals are about as likely to talk to him as the dwarves are."

"You didn't tell Jeod about me?" Helena asked surprised.

Brom shook his head. "I trust Jeod with my life, but you… You could literally tip the balance of power. Whether that's good or bad, I honestly don't know yet." He was much more candid than Helena had thought he would be, but she appreciated it. He looked back at Eragon. "I know with certainty that he knows about you. But with that said, I'm sure he hasn't discovered your whereabouts yet. If he had, we would already be in the claws of the Ra'zac." Eragon relaxed some. "However, that the Black King is coming means that no matter what we plan to do about the Ra'zac, we need to do it before Galbatorix arrives."

"Couldn't we just hide while he is here?" Helena asked.

Brom shook his head. "You underestimate Galbatorix. We must not be even within a hundred miles of him." He turned to Eragon again. "The one good thing about this, is that we now know with certainty that the Ra'zac are here. They are sure to be preparing for his visit.

"I want to get my hands on the Ra'zac," Eragon said with determination, but there was something else in his tone. Helena's left eyebrow rose. He was growing right in front of her eyes, and in some areas fast. Eragon looked up. "I want to get my hands on them, but not if it means that I have to fight against the king. He will, without a doubt, be able to rip me to pieces with a mere motion."

Outwardly Brom looked humoured, but Helena could see how proud he was that Eragon had thought it through, and not just focused on his revenge.

"Very well: caution it is," Brom nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "And you are right. You wouldn't stand a chance against Galbatorix, neither of you. Not even if you attacked him together."

Eragon and Helena both swallowed that fact. It wasn't news to Helena, and neither to Eragon, but it was still hard to hear from Brom, who Helena trusted about this. With all she had heard about Galbatorix, she wasn't even sure if the Killing Curse would work. Not that she could ever cast that, not even against Galbatorix.

Godric was also growing increasingly worried. He never liked the idea about Dras-Leona, and the information Brom had just shared had only reinforced his opinion. He, however, trusted Helena, trusted that she would get out alive.

"You said you discovered several interesting things," Eragon spoke up. "Does that mean you know where the Seithr oil is taken?"

He did. Brom's afternoon had been much more fruitful than theirs, as he had not only discovered what they had, but had also followed the trail of Seithr oil from the warehouse to Tabór´s palace. There he had presented himself as a bard and spent several hours in the palace discovering secrets. In the end he discovered that the Seithr oil was sent further along out of the city.

"Out of the city?" Eragon asked, a disheartening look on his face.

Brom took a big whiff of the pipe that he had lit during his tale. Surprisingly, the smoke and smell weren't as smothering as Helena had feared. "Not that far, boy. At each full moon two slaves are sent to the foot of Helgrind with enough supplies to last a month. When Seithr oil has arrived at the palace, it is sent with them. No one sees the slaves again. And the one time someone tried to follow them, he disappeared as well."

"Slaves?" Helena asked, sitting straighter, it shouldn't surprise her, but it did. Damn that bastard of a king.

"I thought the Riders destroyed the slave trade?" Eragon asked, his eyes having gotten a hard glint to them.

"The Riders have been gone for a while now, and the Black King doesn't care," Brom told him in way of answering. "It varies from city to city, but especially here in the south slavery is common. There are even people who make their living out of kidnapping the desert dwellers and the unlucky trader or two."

"Disgusting," Helena said, her whole face scrunched together. Some might say that she was a hypocrite as they would point out she herself had a 'slave' in the form of Dobby, Kreacher having died at the Battle of Hogwarts. But house elves were dependent on wizards and witches, or at least a location steeped in magic (like Hogwarts).

Both Eragon and Brom hummed in agreement.

"The Ra'zac must live on Helgrind, then," Eragon guessed.

"That would be my guess," Brom nodded.

"If they really do live there or have an outpost or anything of the likes there, it's either at the very bottom, protected by a large slab of stone, or somewhere up higher where only their flying mounts or Saphira and Godric would be able to reach," Eragon mused, tapping the jaw with his left index finger. "If Helena and I were to fly around Helgrind to try and spot anything, the Ra'zac would undoubtedly spot us – not to speak of the rest of Dras-Leona."

"That would be a problem," Brom nodded, pride once again glinting in his eyes.

"Couldn't you use that invisibility spell to hide one or both of us?" Eragon asked her.

"In theory, yes," Helena said, tapping her finger against the floor in thought. "But if this really is the place we're looking for, it is bound to be protected with wards and enchantments and who knows what. It would be very risky, perhaps even more so than not, to do it while under a Disillusionment Charm."

"What if we took the places of the slaves?" Eragon asked. "There isn't long to the next full moon, and it would give us a perfect opportunity to get close to the Ra'zac."

Brom looked thoughtful, while Helena looked sceptical. "It would be very risky."

"You wouldn't stand a chance if the slaves are killed from a distance," Helena told him.

"How do you know they are killed?" Eragon challenged.

"I'm certain they are," Brom answered for her. "But... It's an idea we can at least entertain. If two of us took the places of the slaves, and the third hid nearby with Saphira and Godric..." Dread set in Helena's stomach. This was a bad idea. "It's doable, but we need to work fast. The king will soon be here, and the next full moon appears in four days."

Helena sighed. "If you insist on this moronic plan, we should at least scout the area first. It would be suicide to do otherwise."

"True, but it doesn't need to be done right away," Brom chose a middle ground, not finding offence in her condemning their plan. Helena snorted mentally; that would've been the epitome of the kettle calling the pot black. "I'll return to the palace tomorrow and see if it is even possible for us to take the slaves' places. But we must be careful, especially with the king visiting soon. Even more spies will be throughout the city, and especially at the court. Spies who know about the Ra'zac might expose me."

"But if we remain hidden..." Eragon breathed.

Brom nodded. "Yes."

Eragon didn't say anything right away. And then, "I can't believe we've finally found them." His face got hard, and once again Helena saw that glint of something she didn't like. At least he wasn't so far gone that he had dismissed the king as a threat as long as he got his revenge. But still... Helena sighed.

"The hard part is still ahead of us," Brom reminded Eragon sternly. "But, yes, we've done well. If we're lucky, you can get your revenge, and the Varden will have one less dangerous enemy to worry about. Whatever happens after that is up to you."

'What will you do after this Ra'zac business is over?' Godric asked.

'I... I am hesitant to leave Eragon, Saphira, and Brom,' Helena admitted. 'If we're lucky, they'll choose to go to the Varden. But if they don't...' Helena blew the fringe out of her eye and huffed. 'Why don't we talk about it after we've gotten the Ra'zac? Really talk. I won't ignore your opinion.'

'I know,' was Godric's simple answer.

~ BWaC ~

Helena woke the next morning due to Brom scratching a message onto the wall with a piece of charcoal. She sat up and stretched, shooting a fond look at Eragon. He did look so much calmer when he was asleep.

Brom glanced at her as she rose up but finished his message. Then he turned to her and spoke in a low voice, "I'm going to the palace. Spend your day however you like, but-."

"Stay unnoticed," Helena nodded. Brom gave her a sharp nod, gathered a few items, and walked out of the door. A faint click revealed that he locked it after him.

She walked over to the wall to read the message:

Eragon, Girl

Helena rolled her eyes at Brom's antics.

I'll be gone until late tonight. Eragon, there are a few coins for food and whatever you like under the mattress. Explore the city, have fun, but stay unnoticed.

Brom

PS: Avoid the palace. Eragon, go nowhere without your bow. Helena, only use Gaian magic if you absolutely have to.

Helena couldn't imagine what fun could be had in Dras-Leona, not with misery being present all around them. Even the market yesterday, which, before Eragon's outburst, Helena had more or less enjoyed, was tainted by the urchin who got arrested for digging through the trash of a shop. Helena shook the memory from her head and decided to just go with whatever Eragon wanted to do.

After dressing, she was looking at the bed Brom had slept in and was a thought away from cleaning it with the Scouring Charm when she realized that she couldn't. It would be too obvious and would raise eyebrows once they had left. Sure, it would be after they had left, but it still wouldn't be good. Brom surely would be annoyed. So instead she threw the blanket she had slept on for the last two nights over the bed and sat down on that. She had no doubt that she would clean the blanket with several Scouring Charms once they were away from Dras-Leona: she had no longing to be the dinner of whatever lived in the bed.

While waiting for Eragon to wake, she brought out her Ancient Runes books and equipment and continued a small pet project of hers. Back home, she had only just touched upon it. These last few months, though it had evolved into something entirely new and amazing. At her currently level, though, she knew it would be undoable. So, she had to get better. She had only taken Ancient Runes up until her O.W.L.'s exams, deciding to forgo the subject to be able to concentrate more on her other lessons and the private lessons with Professor McGonagall. It wasn't as if she had no idea what N.E.W.T.-level Ancient Runes were about, because she had sat with Hermione multiple evenings when the muggleborn witch had needed a second set of eyes, but Helena needed much more than just that. It was in the last couple of weeks especially that she had begun to practice the art.

Helena wasn't sure how long she sat there, surrounded by books and sandstones, both carved and uncarved, when Eragon's snores finally stopped. Looking up from the stone she was carving the Eihwaz rune into (a rune which would eventually help with defensive runes), she saw Eragon blink in confusion at the amount of light which flowed in through the window.

"Good morning, princess," Helena greeted her with mirth in her voice. Eragon bolted up in surprise, only dressed in a light shirt and his underwear... which looked rather strained. A blush appeared on Helena's face and she looked down onto the sandstone again, only to find out she had accidentally broken it. A yelp from Eragon told her that he had noticed why she had reacted as she did. In the back of her mind, she could hear Godric roar with laughter. She narrowed her eyes and told him to sod off, which only increased his mirth. She decided to ignore him.

"Erm, I-," Eragon started a minute later, but stopped and cleared his throat when his voice was several octaves higher than normal. "I'm decent."

Helena looked up, her cheeks still dusted red, and saw that Eragon was indeed decent. He, too, had flushed cheeks.

"Ah, erm," Helena cleared her own throat. "Good. That's good, that's very... good."

An awkward silence spread in the room, making Helena flustered. She huffed mentally, irritated at herself for reacting that way. Of course she knew that boys woke up with a stiffy, not because she had ever woken up with a boy before, but because Fred had told her. She knew how it all worked out. She knew- she shook her head getting rid of the thoughts.

"So, what are you doing?" Eragon asked, wanting to move on to a new subject as fast as she did.

"Just a pet project of mine," Helena answered honestly. She shrugged, "I thought I could just as well work on it while waiting for you to wake up."

"Did you get anything done?" he asked curiously.

Helena looked deadpanned at him. "I've been awake for hours. So, yes."

"Ah," Eragon flushed again, though not the same kind as before. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Helena smiled softly. "I wasn't bored."

Eragon looked over the bed, confusion spreading on his face. "What is this project?"

"Ancient Runes," Helena answered.

"Like the one you write in your journal?" he asked.

"Kind of," Helena made a so-so motion. "What I write in my journal is an alphabet. It's a language. Ancient Runes does include that, but the alphabet is only a fraction of it. Ancient Runes is about anchoring magic to magical constructs."

"... you lost me."

Helena chuckled. "Believe me, you aren't the only one. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy are some of the hardest subjects, as they deal with the very nature of magic. To simplify it, I want to make a few defensive spells and wards a bit more permanent, and runes can help with that."

"But aren't they already permanent?" Eragon asked curiously, as he looked in one of her books.

"No, they aren't. A spell has a very limited lifetime, depending on the skill and power of the caster," Helena told him. "If you are lucky, a ward can last several days before eventually failing. But if you anchor it to a rune it could last for years. Some ancient wizards were so good at runes that they were able to keep them active for several millennia. Of course, those runes were tapped into ley lines, which isn't always possible – never mind that." The last part was said as she saw Eragon began looking dazedly at her, and just as he was getting his bearings. "Bottom line: runes make wards and spells last longer."

"Ah, okay," Eragon nodded. "Are you finished, or...?"

"If you could just wait ten minutes, I would really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Helena finished up as quickly as she could and packed her things again. Taking a look at the blanket, she threw it over in the corner, deciding to deal with it once they got back. She was about to unlock the door when Eragon spoke up.

"Helena, wait," he said. She turned to see him looking pensive, which caught her attention. He sighed. "I'm sorry about yesterday. And probably also the night before that – I was a little bit tipsy."

Helena snorted. "A little bit? Eragon, you were oiled off your arse." Her whole face was shining with laughter. Eragon blushed and scratched the back of his head, laughing embarrassed.

"I guess. Still, I'm sorry. Also, about the last while..." he told her straightening up. He looked her in the eyes. "I still don't understand you, but I'm trying. And sometimes I get things wrong."

Helena's face softened. "The blame isn't entirely on you, Eragon. I haven't exactly been myself since... Well, honestly, since I got here. It's beginning to get to me – as you saw that other night in the wilds."

"What did happen there?" he asked. And then rushed to say, "Not that you have to tell me. You have made it clear that you don't want to share."

Helena sighed, not answering right away. And then, "I had a dream – or nightmare – about home, and it just brought forth feelings that I've buried since Godric hatched."

"I'm sorry," Eragon told her.

Helena half snorted, "You do apologise a lot. You don't have to do that, you know, and I don't have to be right always. I argue for what I think is right, sometimes too strongly. That doesn't mean that other people are wrong."

"Perhaps," Eragon agreed with a wry smile. "I do believe I owe you some apologies, though, especially for yesterday."

Helena bit her lower lip, "Yeah, you do. I have to know: if it had been Brom who had seduced a wench or a female store owner or something like that, would you have reacted as you did?"

Eragon flinched. "I... No, I don't think so."

"You've grown up in a society where women are held up to another standard than men," Helena told him seriously. "The same is true with the muggles back home, and I grew up with it as well. But since entering the Wizarding World, that hasn't been true. We have a saying back home: Magic doesn't discriminate. A woman can do anything as well as a man can. And the opposite is also true." She paused to let it sink in. "It isn't only in magic that you shouldn't discriminate women. Or anyone for that matter. People are amazing if you don't hold them back."

"I'm sorry," Eragon told her heartfelt and looked down. Then he looked up with wide eyes, "Or not, but- Gah." Helena chuckled, flicking him lightly on the nose. "Oi!

"Eragon, you're not a bad person," Helena told him. She took his hand and squeezed it, and he looked up at her surprised. She smiled at him. "In fact, you are one of the better ones that I know, and I feel privileged to call you my friend. You have faults just like anyone has, just... try to think a bit before you act. I don't see myself as an especially spiteful person, and I hope you have gotten that impression. I won't hold it against you when you come with such outbursts if you don't hold it against me when I react to such outbursts. I don't expect you to change overnight, and neither should you. And perhaps it isn't only you that should change.

Eragon sighed. "Sometimes it feels like you are leagues ahead of me."

Helena made a face. "You are too harsh on yourself. I've had time to learn a lot of things in a short amount of time – I was forced to learn it, really, to survive. I have other experiences than you have, but we can learn from each other."

"I'd like that," Eragon smiled. "So... are we good?" He used a phrase he had learned from her.

Helena laughed again. "We're good. Now, come on."

Like the day before, they walked around Dras-Leona. This time they didn't ask subtle questions, however, and simply tried to enjoy themselves. It was hard with the things they couldn't ignore. And even knowing it increased the risk of exposure, Helena slipped crowns to the urchins she stumbled upon. Seeing their face beam up as they realized that they didn't have to go hungry for a while was worth it. At least if they weren't mugged in the next alley over. She tried not to think of that.

It was sometime past noon that they had stopped by a bakery in the more well-off part of Dras-Leona for lunch. Sitting down and trying to forget the misery around them, Helena actually thought they were having an okay time there.

"What do you plan to do?" Eragon asked her as they sat in the corner of the bakery. Helena raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean once we are done with the Ra'zac." He was speaking softly, despite their conversations being hidden by the charms she had cast.

"What brought this on?" Helena asked in return.

Eragon shrugged. "It isn't that out of place to think about. We've soon dealt with the Ra'zac, and that was as far as your promise went. You told me some time after leaving Teirm, that you were travelling with us not only to help with the Ra'zac, but also to learn from Brom. You've learned from Brom, and soon you will have helped with the Ra'zac."

Helena sighed. "I'm not too sure what my plans are. I know I need to try and figure out how in the world I appeared here in Alagaësia in the first place, and it seems unlikely I will have enough time to do that without interference from the King." She hesitated, "Godric has been urging me to go our own way after this Ra'zac business is over, and I'm not entirely opposed to it."

Eragon's eyes widened. "So soon... Why?"

Helena let out a humourless laugh. "You've seen how I've been the last few weeks. I am tired of hiding, Eragon. Continuing to travel with you, Saphira, and Brom would probably mean continuing to visit cities and travel by roads, and that means I need to hide myself. I would rather be on my own and be myself."

"Are you going to join the Varden?" he asked bluntly.

Helena frowned. "Eragon..."

"Look, I'm not stupid," Eragon told her. "I am not educated, and there are a lot of things that I don't know, but I know when subjects are being avoided in my presence. With Brom I accept it because he is Brom, but please don't do it to me as well. You've said it yourself; we are together in this."

"It is not to hurt or annoy you that I do it," Helena answered him, looking him straight in the eyes. "I know how you feel about me. I know those feelings, as I have felt them myself. And I know the influences that they work on you."

Eragon blushed bright red, looking away from her face, but he didn't deny it. "I am not incapable of making my own decision. But you matter to me, and I want to hear your thoughts on the subject."

Helena sighed, knowing that the battle was lost. Merlin, Eragon had to be one of the most stubborn persons she knew. "What would you do if I said I wouldn't join them?"

Eragon bit his lip. "I would call you a liar." The response came out evenly, without hesitation or uncertainty. "You are helping me going after the Ra'zac, who are known servants of the king, and without them ever having antagonised you. You are clearly not afraid of making an enemy of him."

"Eragon, let's make one thing perfectly clear," Helena told him sternly. "I am absolutely terrified of making an enemy of the king. I am scared to hell of the stories I've heard about him. And I am frightened shitless that he might burke someone I care about." Eragon looked shocked, and Helena let out a humourless laugh. "What? You held the belief that I thought the king was all hunky-dory?"

"N-no," Eragon stammered. "But when we talk about him, you always seem so..."

"Someone once told me that courage is not the absence of fear, but the realisation that something is worth fighting for despite of it," Helena told him. "But you asked me a question, and I owe you an answer... Yes, I am going to oppose Galbatorix, and supporting the Varden seems to be one of the most easy and obvious ways of doing just that. But whether or not I will join the Varden, I do not know yet."

Eragon let out a breath. "Right..."

"Look, it was you who insisted on an answer," Helena couldn't help but point out.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm glad you told me," Eragon told her with a small smile.

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, though not an uncomfortable one. Helena could see the thoughts rush through Eragon's head, and she couldn't help but hope that she hadn't complicated things. They left not ten minutes later but heard a commotion nearby. Deciding to check it out, as they got closer it was clear that it was an auctioneer who was listing off a price list in a yell.

Turning a corner, they came face to face with the auction, which took place in a small square. In one corner stood a platform about as tall as her chest, where upon the auctioneer stood. Behind him stood ten men and women and even a child in a row, their patched clothes in stark contrast to the auctioneer's and the audience's. Helena's eyes widened, and she froze up when she realized what this was. Eragon shot her a weird look, but still looked curious up on the stage.

"Here we have the day's first number," the auctioneer said in a cheerful voice, a clear sales pitch. "A healthy man from Hadarac, caught as late as last month, and in excellent condition as well! I mean, just look at those arms and legs; he is as strong as several oxen! He would be perfect as shield carrier, or if you don't trust him with that, as hard worker. But, my ladies and gentlemen, in my humble opinion, that would be a waste. He is intelligent enough if you can get him to speak a civilized language."

As the audience laughed, Eragon finally froze up. Helena had known Eragon long enough to have picked up a few of his tells. And right now, they were screaming that he was angry. No; well and truly off his rockers. She wasn't going to do anything about it, as he was right to be so, but then she felt the magic. Well, not exactly, but she felt the itch under her skin which told her magic was building up somewhere but wasn't released. The only reason she was able to feel that was because she was standing right beside Eragon, and she didn't hesitate to react.

Helena's hand left hand came clamping down on his right, and she tugged him away from the crowd. She knew right away that it hadn't been necessary, because Eragon deflated before she had even managed to tug on him. Still, she thought it would be best to get away from there. The last thing she heard from the auction was a girl crying as she was ripped away from her mother. Helena's breath hitched, and Eragon looking at her, his eyes mirrored her own.

"We don't even treat animals like that," Eragon finally spoke subdued a few streets over. He looked up at her. "It isn't right."

"It isn't," Helena agreed. He didn't say anything else, but it was clear it had gotten him thinking. Helena couldn't help but wonder of what, as a whole range of emotions ran across his face. Helena smiled softly. She liked that about Eragon – that he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Helena didn't have to guess when it came to him.

They walked for a long while, with no aim in particular. Eragon was deep in thought, so it was Helena's job to softly steer him in and out of the different crowds. He didn't even notice. When he finally stopped, they were out in front of the cathedral.

It was impressive, all right, in its own wrong, sinister way. As it usually was with religion, people cared deeply and profoundly, and it showed in the care that the builders of the cathedral had shown.

The cathedrals' four spires reached high into the heavens, only Helgrind reaching higher for hundreds of miles around. Helena hadn't noticed before, but the way that the cathedral was built, it was almost like a refined copy of the rock formation. The four spires stood as they did on the mountains, and balconies popped out in seemingly random places, until you saw the outcrops on Helgrind. Etched into the marble was sneering monsters, fabulous creatures, and heroes and kings marching. What really stood out from what Helena was used to, was that the heroes and kings didn't seem to be fighting these creatures and monsters, but almost admiring them and following them. Strange and stranger.

"What's written there?" Helena asked, pointing up over the door. It was in the Ancient Language. While Helena was getting much better at it verbally, she wasn't as good at it when it was written. She doubted that it was its native alphabet, as it was far too complicated.

"May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved," Eragon spoke slowly.

"Well, that's not ominous at all," Helena drawled. Eragon snorted.

"Kind of seems like a spider waiting on its kill, doesn't it?" Eragon asked in a low voice. Helena got a picture of the cathedral as an acromantula in her mind and had to agree with her male counterpart.

"What are you doing?" Helena hissed. Eragon had taken a few steps forward and looked as if he was about to enter.

"Do you think we are allowed to enter?" Eragon asked, not answering her question. At her exasperated look, he said, "I just want to see what's it like inside. I've never seen anything like it, and chances are I won't be back anytime soon."

Helena looked at him for a few moments before sighing. He beamed at her and entered, Helena only a few steps behind him.

The witch-turned-Dragon Rider felt like she had just taken a step into one of those scary movies Hermione had showed her. She was almost one-hundred percent positive that it would be less creepy to sleep beside Dumbledore's decaying corpse, inside his tomb. It wasn't so hard to believe that the unsettling feeling which Dras-Leona embodied came from the cathedral.

The air was chill and dry inside, an abrupt change from the warming spring air of March outside. Bare walls extended to a vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows depicting scenes of anger, hate, and remorse pierced the walls, while spectral beams of light washed sections of the granite pews with transparent hues, leaving the rest in shadow. Between the windows stood statues with rigid, pale eyes. It didn't help at all that because of that, both her own and Eragon's skin were coloured a deep blue, making them resemble walking corpses.

Helena followed after Eragon, their steps echoing in the large space. Everything in her screamed that this was wrong – and it wasn't just because she never had been comfortable in religious buildings, something probably springing from her treatment at the hands of the Dursleys – and she wished they hadn't entered. But she knew that Eragon had been adamant, and it was better that she was there with him than them splitting up.

They made it to the altar soon enough. It was a great slab of stone devoid of adornment. A solitary finger of light fell upon it, illuminating motes of golden dust floating in the air. Behind the altar, the pipes of a wind organ pierced the ceiling and opened themselves to the elements. The instrument would play its music only when a gale rocked Dras-Leona.

Of all things to do, Eragon actually kneeled. Forget that she thought he was crazy paying respect to something so... wrong, he left himself completely open. That was proven true a moment later, when she heard the large door they had just entered through open, and two hooded figures entered. Helena knew right away that they weren't human.

"Eragon," Helena breathed. He didn't hear her. "Eragon." She repeated his name louder, and this time he heard her. He looked up at her in mild irritation, which quickly disappeared when he saw how pale she was. He turned and saw the cloaked figures, and he froze. Anger and rage quickly overtook his face.

For two very long moments no one moved. They all four stood frozen on opposites end of the cathedral, simply looking at each other. Then the smaller of the two figures, which Helena could only deduce was the Ra'zac, hissed. Something clicked inside of her, something that had clicked for the first time in the zoo in Surrey and while duelling Malfoy in Second Year and many times after that when coming head to head with snakes. The Ra'zac spoke Parseltongue. Or at least a variation of it. It was definitely different, but Helena could understand the gist of it.

"Who is the girl?" had the shorter Ra'zac asked. It never got an answer, because a moment later Eragon reacted.

A roar erupted from Eragon, as he ripped his bow from his back and put an arrow to it. He didn't hesitate and released it towards the Ra'zac. He didn't stop there, and a second and third and fourth arrow quickly followed the first.

With Eragon's roar, whatever spell had been over the Ra'zac broke, and they charged down the aisle, easily dodging Eragon's arrows. Helena's heart pounded, and she quickly dipped her hand into her bag and retrieved the altered Sword of Gryffindor. Cursing that it was sheathed, she quickly did away with it, and stood prepared for the Ra'zac, who was always halfway down the long aisle.

Suddenly a stench filled Helena's nose almost making her gag. Something crept up inside of her mind but wasn't able to take hold. It was there, and it was annoying, but that was all it was. Eragon, though, clearly had been affected. While he still shot arrows, he looked dazed, and whereas before his aim had been true (and the Ra'zac had been dodging), now he wasn't even close to hitting home.

'Helena!' Godric exclaimed in her mind. She quickly mentally shushed him, as she couldn't afford to be distracted. And then after a moment's thought replied.

'Warn Brom,' was all she said. She didn't close their connection – she would never do that –, but she could not afford to be distracted then.

She narrowed her eyes at the Ra'zac who was quickly gaining in on them. Her eyes widened in horror when several companies of soldiers burst into the cathedral. She turned to Eragon.

"Eragon, we need to retreat," she told him. He didn't seem to hear her, still in the dazed state where he was shooting arrows at nothing. "Eragon!" she slapped him. It worked a bit, and he looked dazedly at her. He was there, but not quite.

A hissing drew her attention back to the Ra'zac who was only about twelve meters from them then. Panicky, she quickly remembered what Brom had taught them about the Ra'zac. They were strong and powerful and could take down most humans in a one-on-one fight. Unlucky for them, she wasn't completely human.

No time for incantation, Helena dug into her magic and waved her hand towards the Ra'zac. They squawked as they were lifted off of the ground and hurled with incredible speed back from where they had come from, along with a several stone benches, which all hit the soldiers.

Not having any time to be shocked over the level of destruction, Helena took Eragon's hand and ran towards the chamber beside the altar. A small amount of relief flooded her when Eragon squeezed her hand and ran with her instead of her tugging him along: he was out of his daze.

"How did they find us?" Eragon asked.

"Does it matter?" was Helena's answer. "We need to get out of here."

The commotion behind them proved that while Helena's stunt had slowed them, the two of them were still being followed. They didn't stop in the chamber and began running down several long tunnels.

Left. Right. Right. Left. Straight. Left.

They turned a corner, bolting into the door as they had done with several others, when it didn't budge. It was locked. Before Helena could do anything, Eragon motioned with his right hand.

"Jierda!" he exclaimed. In a bright flash of light, the door was destroyed, splinters flying everywhere. The dust hadn't even settled when he took her hand and began running again.

They ran in and out of rooms and hallways, scaring several groups of priests, and almost running into a room full of soldiers, before backing out and running down another hallway. Helena's lungs were burning, but it was bearable. She knew it wouldn't have been before her training with Brom.

They finally made it outside, only for it to be a garden surrounded by a tall and thick stone wall.

"Shit," Eragon breathed harshly. He was about to run back in when Helena grabbed him.

"We won't make it in there," she said. He was clearly about to ask what to do then, when he looked at her with wide eyes, and then the wall. Helena didn't wait, gathering the magic, no holding back, and motioned towards the wall.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The explosion could probably be heard for miles around and surely by everyone in the Dras-Leona. It didn't matter now, however: they were discovered. The dust cloud was enormous, and Helena wasn't able to see three meters ahead of her. But it was all they got.

Taking Eragon's arm, she began to run. This time she didn't let go, as they couldn't afford to be separated.

"I told Saphira to warn Brom," Eragon said.

"I told Godric to do the same," Helena replied as they accidentally flipped over a booth, the wares spilling all over the street. The beggars and urchins didn't hesitate and jumped over the wares before running for it.

"We need to get to the Golden Globe," Eragon told her. She simply nodded.

They reached the inn in only a few minutes, ignoring the way people were looking at them. They were quite a sight, after all, sweaty, panting, and covered in dust as they were. Not bothering to do it carefully, Helena just threw all their belongings into her bag, before they fled the inn as well.

When they exited the Golden Globe, Brom was waiting outside with the horses. He looked caustic and worried.

"What happened?" he asked them as he swung himself up on his horse.

"We were in the cathedral when the Ra'zac suddenly appeared," Eragon explained mounting Cadoc. "We couldn't get out of the entrance as there was at least four regiments of soldiers with them. We fled through a lot of hallways and rooms, and Helena demolished a stone wall to a garden."

"We hurried as fast as we could, but they could be here at any moment," Helena told Brom, already mounted on Alfsigr.

"We have to get outside of the city wall before they close the gates, if they haven't already done that," Brom told them. "If they are closed, it will be next to impossible for us to escape. Whatever happens, don't get separated from me."

It was just as Brom had said that, that the end of the street was flooded with soldiers. As soon as they saw Eragon and her, they shouted and pointed. Brom cursed heavily, quickly rushed Snowfire to gallop in the opposite direction. Eragon and Helena weren't far behind.

Not bothering hiding anymore, Helena used her magic several times to throw things in the way of the soldiers. There were many yells and screams as walls collapsed and dozens of booths flew into the middle of the street, but Helena couldn't care less at that moment.

"No," Eragon whimpered, yes whimpered, as the gate got into sight. It was already closed, and soldiers were standing ready.

"Alohomora," Helena incanted, but felt something block her. Narrowing her eyes, she didn't hesitate, and flung her left hand towards the gate. "Reducto!" The ruby light sped down the street, making soldiers jump out of their way to avoid it. Then it hit a shield, a ward, and fizzled out. Helena's eyes widened, this being the first time her magic had been prevented in Alagaësia.

Brom cursed and steered Snowfire down another way. Eragon followed right away. Helena, however, never got to the chance, as a searing pain spread in her left shoulder as an arrow pierced, and a moment later she was thrown off of Alfsigr when the most horrible sounds erupted from the beautiful horse before stopping abruptly.

"Helena!" Eragon's voice cried out.

Helena groaned and quickly got up on her feet. She bit down a curse when she saw Alfisgr dead on the ground, an arrow to the heart having killed her. At least she died quickly, Helena couldn't help but think.

The witch-turned-Dragon Rider turned and began to run towards Eragon and Brom, who had stopped at a crossroads in the city. Eragon was shooting arrows frantically with his bow and might've hit a few. Helena didn't know, because a moment later it was her right side that an arrow hit. She screamed out, and Brom cursed.

Adrenaline was rushing through her, as the pain from her wounds were great. They had to have used poison. Scratch that, she was sure they had used poison, because this was not the pain of a simple flesh wound.

Narrowing her eyes as she heard soldiers behind her, she spun around and, without giving the soldiers standing twenty meters away a chance, she let the spell loose.

"Confringo!" she commanded her magic before the whole street blew up. At least that wasn't warded. She knew that she had to have killed more than a few there, and from the looks of it so did Eragon. But it didn't help: moments later the street was filled up again.

She finally made it to Eragon and Brom and got a look down the other three streets. Soldiers were coming from everywhere, and the Ra'zac was running across the rooftops further down the street heading away from the gate.

There was only one more hope.

"Please work," Helena begged out loud.

"What are you talking about?" Brom asked, shooting arrows as well. He must've picked it up on the way, though Helena didn't know when.

Helena didn't answer him, but simply took hold of the two as well as the two horses. And then she apparated.

~ BWaC ~

Author's Notes: I hoped you enjoyed the longest chapter to date, a bit over 13k words. I wrote an extra scene here, the lunch scene at the bakery where Helena and Eragon talks. This, like the extra scenes of the last few chapters, was inspired by Najex's story, so a thank you to him.

Some of you might recognize what Helena responds with, when Eragon talks about religion. It is indeed from Dragon Age: Inquisition. I love that game to bits (the whole series), and you can expect to see more references to it in the future. In fact, some of you have already recognize that the endearment that Helena uses for Godric – My Heart – is from Dragon Age as well, although in this context it's not romantic love.

I'm pleased that all those of you who gave feedback for last chapter thought that Helena's reaction was due. One pointed out that, if it should be completely realistic, there should have been a few hints in earlier chapters, and I can agree to that. My rationing was simply that she occupied herself so well, first with Godric, then with training, then with hunting Ra'zac, that she didn't have time to worry, and I tried to touch upon that in this chapter as well.

There's only one more chapter of the originally written chapters, so I hope you'll look forward to it. After I've uploaded that in a few days at most, you will have to wait longer until the next update – now I have to write it from scratch, after all. I won't give a promise of how often I will update the story after that, but I can get into more detail in next chapter's author's notes.

Synthesis

Ancient Language Translations:

Jierda – Break, Hit