A/N: I've always wanted to ask Arya one very somber question: Why so serious? XD This is a filler chapter, and I have always HATED politics, so… oh whatever. What typed is typed. What published is published…
"A friend is someone who knows the song of your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words."
Chapter 7: Crosswinds
Eragon pursed his lips while examining himself in the full length mirror. He was free of any armour, and was dressed only in a blue tunic that was embroidered with silver threads and flared at his wrists. It flowed four inches from his belt. His dark green trousers hovered at his shin. Eragon bent down to pull on his boots and laced them up, before returning to his scrutiny. He felt exposed by these soft clothing.
How used I am to armour. Eragon thought a little whimsically. Then he returned his gaze to not his clothing, but features.
His eyes, like ears, were tapered at the ends, testament to the gift from the dragons. His nose remained ever the same, but his cheekbones were a little higher, his chin a little stronger. He was freshly shaved, and his recently trimmed hair was bronze and wavy, as it always was. He could see the hint of Selena's and Brom's features in his, yet his features were more streamlined than theirs. His shoulders were broader and more muscular than when he first left Carvahall for revenge.
Yet, the difference in his form was not as drastic as his demeanor. There was this newfound confidence and self-assuredness that was lacking before he divined his true name and defeated Galbatorix, and it revealed itself in his countenance. His shoulders did not droop as they once did, his chin was held higher, and there was this difference in his gaze that spoke of things seen, things felt, and things experienced. Eragon looked older, more matured, was wiser.
So much has changed, Eragon mused, then corrected himself. I have changed so much.
As have I. There was a flutter of the curtains as Saphira landed on the only balcony that was huge and strong enough for her.
Eragon smiled, and the man in the mirror relaxed. That you have. We all have. When I first saw you, you were but an egg. Now you can lay eggs.
Saphira growled and started her ritual of grooming herself after a hunt and eyed Eragon's room distastefully. Not here, at least. It's so uncomfortable in such a posh room.
Eragon surveyed his allotted room; it was not the largest in the castle of Uru'baen, but it was very luxurious. The carpet that draped on the floor was thick, warm, and according to Orik, woven of Feldunost wool. The bed that Eragon slept in was soft, the pillows thick. There was a three foot long working table meant for reading and writing, with another round one that was at least ten foot across meant for meetings and discreet discussions. And there was a chair as long as a cot and comfortable enough for one to sleep in. The large windows meant that Eragon could wake to a sunrise to the city. Saphira had a point. Everything was so disconcertingly, oppressively…decorated.
It was the most luxurious room Eragon had slept in, yet, he still preferred his tree house in Ellesmera. It was a personal space of his, where he could stay there and wake to the smell of morning dew on flowers and the chirping of birds. It seemed like an eternal city, that nothing would change. It was his haven, a place that he could call home besides his farm in Carvahall.
Aren't you late for the meeting? Saphira brought him out of his daydream. Eragon looked at the sun.
Ah, blast it. Shouldn't Nasuada give us more time to rest since Uru'baen was felled? It was only yesterday! Eragon knew that there was much to discuss and settle, yet it did nothing to staunch his annoyance at having to spar verbally so early in the morning. One would think the fighting would have stopped with Galbatorix's death.
Saphira rumbled with amusement while fixing one large sapphire eye on him. Grumpy in the morning, are we? You sound like a whiney young boy I once knew. Saphira snorted. At least Firnen and Arya would be there. Eragon could feel Saphira's infectious anticipation at seeing Firnen again.
Right. Perked up, Eragon fitted his sword to his belt— for Uru' baen was still a dangerous place with spies and traitors—and ran from his room. I'll race you there then!
As he closed the door to his room and magically locked it, never breaking stride, he heard Saphira's answering roar and thump as she took to the skies. Eragon laughed and picked up his pace. The six elves on duty were waiting for him outside his room, and were startled by his speed. They, however, caught up with Eragon with grace and their unperturbed calm.
"Good morning, Kingkiller, why are we running like there are monsters snapping at our heels?" Blodhgarm enquired.
Eragon laughed at Blodhgarm's inexplicable calm. "Good morning Blodhgarm! I'm racing Saphira to the meeting room. Hurry!"
A ripple flowed through Blodhgarm's dark fur as he grinned. "I always did like races."
Together, they ripped through the palace of Uru'baen as one. Eragon drew up a mental map of this wing of the castle. Left, down the hallway, take the stairs to the right, down two flights of stairs, right hallway, second left turn. Eragon halted, skidding to a stop. Saphira was already waiting for him a few yards away in the broad corridor, grooming herself leisurely like a cat. Going somewhere, my foolish rider? You should know better than to challenge a dragon, especially one as fast as—
Eragon glanced at the door that opened to the meeting room, then to the window on the right, and calculated fast. Sensing his thoughts, Saphira pounced to the window, but Eragon got to the door first, opened it, set one foot in the room and laughed as he saw Saphira poke her nose hastily into the room though the window at the opposite side of the room. Saphira rumbled the equivalent of laughter in her chest and for awhile, the whole room of immortal royalty, poised dignitaries, and somber ministers stared at the Rider and his dragon, flushed with excitement, both laughing hysterically on a bright spring morning.
When his laughter was spent, Eragon glanced around the room. A few, like Orik, and Nasuada, were smiling slightly. Arya, from what Eragon could see, was entertained, but her grief prevented her from The others— King Orrin, Irwin, Lord Dathedr— were staring at him with slightly irritated expressions.
"You're late." Nasuada announced. It was not a reprimand, yet it provided Eragon with the reason to which why everyone was staring at him with a certain annoyance.
"My apologies, Saphira was out hunting this morning, and I wanted her to be present with me." The room of said dignitaries, of course, had nothing but deferential respect for Saphira.
"Ah. I'm sure, then, that we can all find time in our schedules to accommodate her needs. Take a seat, Shadeslayer." Lord Dathedr said. King Orrin appeared even more annoyed now that Lord Dathedr was taking charge of the situation.
"Yes, yes, do take a seat, Kingkiller, and let us finally begin."
It is entertaining, Eragon noticed, to see how I'm immediately forgiven when you come into the picture.
Of course, otherwise they will be roast before they could say otherwise, Saphira replied.
Eragon surveyed the room. There was a long, oval oak table that dominated the room. At the two opposing ends were Orrin and Nasuada. Nasuada was flanked by Arya and Lord Dathedr on her left, and an empty seat in which he, presumably, was supposed to occupy. Orik was positioned next to that empty chair, followed by Jormundur and Nar Garzhvog. On the other side of the table sat King Orrin, flanked by Irwin and an earl with red hair and blue eyes. Grimr Halfpaw, the king of the werecats, sat in the middle. The room was free of guards, with three exceptions, Murtagh, who stood silently behind Orik, Captain Garven of the Nighthawks, and Blodhgarm, who trailed behind Eragon.
What a nice, clear division. With his soft tunic and trousers, Eragon once again felt open, vulnerable. His goodwill, brought about by Saphira, had all but vanished as he took his seat beside Nasuada.
"Alright, the reason why we are all gathered here is to discuss the division of boundaries, as well as the future paths of all races whose leaders are here. Am I to assume, Arya, that you will be the leader for your race?" Nasuada said.
Both Arya and Dathedr nodded. "You may. I will discuss these issues with Dathedr, but for now, yes. I will make decisions for the Alfakyn."
Her words filled Eragon with unease, and he stared at her, unable to calm the gathering storm in him. Arya seemed to notice Eragon's gaze on her, and her answering one was full of uncertainty as well. Her doubt unnerved Eragon to the point of discomfort. Arya then hid her emotions behind a familiar mask, which reminded Eragon of where he was and what they were doing.
So he squelched his worries for now and focused on the task at hand.
"Very well, Arya. I think you would make fine decisions for your people," Nasuada smiled at Arya, who returned the gesture with a nod. Camaraderie seemed to have sprung up between the two women after their imprisonment. Eragon shrugged inwardly, sure that he would never fully understand women. "So does anyone have any request to make for the shifting of boundaries?"
Arya shook her head. "Du Weldevarden has been, and will always be our home of choice. There is no other land that we require, or desire."
"Aye." Dathedr confirmed.
"When I speak, it will always be for the welfare of mine subjects. The Knurlan will, as before the war, be content with the Beor Mountains. I only ask for access to two other cities; Petrovya in Surda, and Furnost of the Empire in order for mine Knurlan to trade freely, without tax, for the continued prosperity of mine people. I will make this request in exchange for the access for humans in the dwarven town of Orthiad. Will that be agreeable to you, King Orrin, and to you, Lady Nasuada?" Orik said.
While Orrin took a draught from his goblet, Nasuada spoke without hesitation. "I know not of King Orrin's opinions on this matter, but I, Nasuada of the Varden, gladly accept the offer, King Orik. I was about to make the same offer to you, King Orrin and Arya. I'm sure that my people will benefit from this as much as yours would."
Arya nodded, looking at Lord Dathedr, "Some details need to be worked out, but yes, that should be satisfactory.
Orik dipped his head, nodding. "In addition, I would like to name my vessel, Murtagh Morzansson, as mine ambassador to the Empire. While he remains in your court, he will report directly to me of the decisions made between both of our nations. Will that be agreeable to both of you?"
Nasuada looked at Murtagh just as he did—their eyes linked and all went still.
Eragon felt that, at that point of time, nothing else mattered to them. So he cleared his throat and stood up to pour himself a goblet to tea to allow them time to recover.
Nasuada appeared slightly flustered when she replied. "Certainly, Orik, that is, if Murtagh agrees to do so."
Murtagh shrugged. "Sure."
Smiling, Eragon sat back down and nudged Orik, whispering, "Good call." Orik chuckled and winked.
Orrin stirred then, his mood still visibly surly. "Well, I assume that no harm can come out of this deal, so I agree to your request, King Orik."
Orik grunted an affirmative in response.
"I, however, am not as generous as King Orik is. I have staked the welfare and resources of my entire nation for this venture, and I will demand more than just trading rights to my neighboring countries." King Orrin paused, and then pointed to Nasuada across the length of the table. "I challenge you for the rule of the Empire."
He is not only long-winded. He is absolutely greedy. Saphira said for the first time since the meeting started. She growled, her patience obviously thin with Orrin.
Projecting her thoughts to all present, she said, Many of us, including the lowly two-leg, round-eared foot soldiers, staked everything they had. According to your argument, we would all have rights to be kings and queens of the Empire.
Orrin was visibly cowed, taking a long draught of wine from his goblet—Eragon could smell the alcohol from where he was sitting— before forging forward."During the duration of this war, my people— rule of which I have been given through birthright—have suffered greatly. I have provided the Varden with gold, food, weapons, armour, resources for the entire war that neither the elves, nor the dwarves have. So why should she, Nasuada, get the throne? The Royal House of Langfeld—Ancestry to which could be traced back to Langfeld the Great, has fought the Empire for a century. I have helped, and sacrificed, so much for the Varden since I took the throne. Without my aid, the Varden would not even exist in the first place. Without my aid, Ajihad, your father, not to mention yourself, Nasuada, would have been able to sustain the Varden, and this motley rebel group would have dissipated like sand in the wind. So why should you, Nasuada, be given the right to rule?"
Saphira snarled. It is rare to see you this courageous, Orrin. She growled. It makes a good change in your character. However, I see the need to remind you that Nasuada has led us all to where we are today. Without her, we would not be here today, but cowering in the small-dark-caves of Farthen Dur. The Varden would not have had the ability to fund itself through the sale of lace. You have aided her, yes, but she has led the Varden. As for your birthright to lead…I am a dragon. Dragons do not recognize leaders by their blood, but by their ability to lead. Your ancestors were the ones who had courage, and fought for the right to lead, so if you intend to be a better leader than you are, you should put down that goblet and get some guts instead of being such a whiney tiny-furry kitten who cries over knitted yarn!
Orrin's face had turned from being slightly pink from the alcohol, to a crimson as red as Thorn's scales. Eragon worried for his health. He was tensed, halfway out of his chair, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword, as if considering the possibility of attacking Saphira. The room was silent, the atmosphere so thick it was like Feldunost cheese, for no one dared to defy Saphira, but no one was willing to put in a word for Orrin.
Feeling grumpy today, are we? Eragon commented even as he grasped Brisingr, ready to defend Saphira if need be. Saphira snorted.
"Peace, Saphira, King Orrin," Nasuada said. "I mean no insult to your rule. I meant only to enforce mine."
"Aye, Galbatorix has just been slain. Let us not fight amongst ourselves." Lord Dathedr said.
"Perhaps it would be ideal," Arya interjected, "To have the two human states in order, so that one can curb the other if their ruler strays out of hand. Surda has helped Galbatorix to be slain and his rule ended, much to the benefit of the whole Alagaesia. Would it not do to have two states to be the guardians of each other, to better help in times of need?" Arya paused, surveying them all.
"True, much of our troubles have arisen because one individual grew too powerful, upsetting the balance of power. So we should prevent this from happening instead." Nasuada suggested. "King Orrin, as a mark of respect and gratitude for your aid, I willingly submit the rule of the cities of Aroughs, Feinster, Melian, as well as the entire Lake Tudosten. That should double the size of Surda. Will that be amiable to you?"
King Orrin was silent for a long time, his colour returning to normal, before counseling with his advisors.
"I guess, then, that all of you will support her claim to the throne?" Orrin asked.
"We made our pact with Nasuada, and we will keep it. We will view an attack on the Varden as an attack on us. So seeing that the leader of the Varden is Nasuada, then yes, we will support her claim to the throne." Arya said.
"Aye, as her vessel, I will protect my liegelord and support her claim." Eragon said with a punctuating blink from Saphira.
"As will we." Said Orik, Garzhvog, and Grimr.
"Then it is settled. I will accept your offer."
Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, an end to all these conflicts.
"Hail! Queen Nasuada, Queen of the Empire!" the room cheered in unison.
"Thank you. Now, as for my pact the Urgals…" Nasuada looked at Nar Garzhvog. "Which space of Alagaesia will you want? As long as it is reasonable, I will agree to it."
Nar Garzhvog was silent for awhile, before saying, "My rams will do well if we had the entire Spine to breed and grow."
Nasuada hesitated. "I can agree to that, as long as, firstly, your rams do not harm my people in Kuasta, Teirm, and Narda. Secondly, that my people be granted safe access through the Spine without attacks from your rams to those cities."
"Ahgrat Ukmar. Thank you, Queen Nightstalker. As you have proven to be a woman of your word, I will see that my people do not break theirs."
"I suppose then, that as long as there is a space for werecats in my court, that you will be satisfied, King Halfpaw?"
"Aye." Grimr replied.
Eragon raised one eyebrow. Grimr is the total opposite of Orrin. Saphira rumbled deeply in her chest at Eragon's words.
Nasuada smiled. "Then I will order that a soft cushion be made especially for that."
"Thank you, Queen Nasuada."
The sun was high in the sky now, and all gathered were beginning to feel hungry, so Nasuada ordered that lunch be brought up to the room. Captain Garven left, only to be replaced by another Nighthawk—An urgal this time.
"So that leaves one last thing on our agenda—the celebration that Eragon promised. Are there any suggestions?"
"Yes, my lady. I do have a suggestion…" Eragon started.
**********************A/N: OH CRAP, I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT FIRNEN. AND THORN. AND THE ELDUNARI T.T I do hate politics. They make me wonky because I have no idea how to continue. I'm a horrible writer.
The sun had begun to set when the subtleties regarding the celebrations were thoroughly discussed and meticulously planned. The meeting was over, and Orik followed by Murtagh, Arya, Eragon and Nasuada were on the way to having dinner in the Great Hall, so that Saphira, Firnen and Thorn could be present. Roran and Katrina would make their way directly to the great hall. Dathedr, Orrin, Garzhvog and Grimr had other business to attend to and so excused themselves. Eragon liked it. It was a dinner between close friends.
The food was tasty, the dinner enjoyable. They talked about nothing and everything, laughter was as easy and frequent as a gulp of mead, troubles were forgotten and replaced by hilarity. The dragons added to the conversation as well, often making jibes to their riders to the amusement of all.
At one point, someone outside, Eragon guessed that it was Tarín, one of his elven bodyguards, started playing a cheerful tune on a reed flute. Intoxicated by the mead, Nasuada started laughing, and, grabbing Murtagh by both hands, started moving her body to the music. Murtagh, visibly amused, started doing the same. Roran and Katrina, following their lead, did the same, albeit at a slower speed, considering Katrina's pregnancy. Eragon observed the two couples, one spinning in tune to the melody, and the other, less intense dance. All parties had love shining in their eyes.
Saphira suddenly interjected, Eragon, Arya needs you.
Eragon turned to Arya, and caught sight of the intentionally blank look on her face. She had been tense throughout the meal, as though she was forcing herself to be happy for the sake of the dinner. It suddenly occurred to Eragon that mead, like all alcohol, was an emotional intensifier. Eragon's heart caught at the thought.
The grief of losing her mother must be great, especially so soon after their reconciliation of seventy years…
Aye. Go dance with her—she will enjoy it. Saphira puffed a plume of black smoke before returning her attentions to Firnen.
Pushing his chair back so that the scrape echoed around the Great Hall, he stood up and tentatively walked around the table to Arya. One wrong move could tear their hard earned relationship apart. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Orik make his way to sit by Thorn. Together, they watched the dancing couples with half lidded eyes.
When he reached Arya, he looked at her. Her face was so devoid of emotions that Eragon questioned his instincts for yet another time. Then he smiled.
"Dance with me."
Arya looked at him with baffled eyes, and slowly returned the smile. He took her by her hands and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly in his chest. Then he released her and led her not to the space where Roran, Katrina, Murtagh and Nasuada were dancing, but to the doors that led to the white marble courtyard.
The night air was invigorating after being cooped up in the Great Hall. The flowery scent of all the flowers in the courtyard washed over Eragon, and he inhaled deeply, thoroughly refreshed. Then he led Arya to the middle of the courtyard and turned Arya to face him. So he kissed her forehead and tucked her under his chin, feeling as protective as he did when he first rescued her from Gil'ead. Then he began to sway on the spot, as if there was a melody playing in the silent courtyard. Arya disengaged from the embrace and fixed him with a confused look.
"Is there a tune that I'm not hearing?" Arya asked.
Eragon smiled and shushed her, putting a finger on her lips as if she was an errant child. "Shh… its just loud enough, if you listen not with your ears, but with your heart."
Arya's eyes brightened with understanding, then she was silent in his arms.
"You know, Arya, it's alright to let it all out, my dear. It will be better." Eragon said to her fragrant hair. Once again, the scent of crushed pine needles assaulted him.
In his arms, Arya said nothing, then wrecking sobs that made her body jerk uncontrollably, as if her heart was breaking and that the tremors from each crack went through her entire length. So Eragon began to hum a little melody that he learnt from Nari when he first went to Ellesmera. The tune was played on a flute, and was meant to be sung to little children who were afraid. It was to calm them and tell them that all, in time, will pass.
Eragon stood swaying to the tune, and watched the moon float across the night sky, until Arya was still again and her tears were spent. She looked up to Eragon, and with a slight blush, apologized, looking embarrassed. "I beg your pardon, Eragon, for losing my control."
Again, he put his finger on her lips, and, still humming the tune, started to lead her into a dance.
The two lovers danced around the marble courtyard, fleeting as shadows in the dark night, moving slowly at first with graceful steps, then gaining momentum as they whirled and twirled as if the greatest symphony was playing in the courtyard itself. Arya started laughing, green eyes meeting brown, their contact broken to meet again. They were in tune to every move the other made, culminating in a frenzy of figures separating from the other only to be reunited with the other…Until their momentum came to a halt, Arya twirled into Eragon's arms, linked her hands behind his neck, as Eragon linked his behind her back.
Eragon had never been happier in his life.
Eragon compared the most momentous moments (A/N: See what I did there?;) in his life—When Saphira first hatched and bonded with him, he was amazed, awestruck, and he had to admit, a little less lonely. His real first flight with Saphira was filled with a carefree joy and freedom. When he was changed by the spectral dragons, he felt hope. Even when he killed Galbatorix and Shruikan, he felt a sense of achievement and accomplishment.
But he did not feel this deep rooted happiness.
To love Arya and to be loved unconditionally by the woman of his dreams, who had stayed with him at his weakest and had helped him to be at his strongest… And now he had made her happy when she had every right to be sad… this was true happiness. And Eragon was eternally grateful.
"I wish…I wish it could always be like this. It's so peaceful and quiet." Eragon said. Arya smiled as she remembered the last time he had uttered these words.
"Aye… but alas, it cannot." Arya touched Eragon's cheek with her left hand, then she broke the embrace and turned her back to Eragon. "I'm leaving for Ellesmera tomorrow, Eragon…" Her head dipped as she said that, as if her body was denying those words. A curtain of hair obscured her face, so that Eragon could glean nothing from her face. "My mother's burial has to take place soon. There are more ceremonies to be done as she is the Queen. Then we have to elect our new monarch. The process is an elaborate and complicated one, and it may take some time. I, as drottningu, have to be there to head the process, and…" Arya broke off, seemingly unable to continue.
"Is there a possibility that you would become queen?" Eragon questioned, uncertain of his emotions.
"Yes!" Arya replied, as if releasing her pent up breath.
"Will you accept it?"
"I…" Arya hesitated, then turned and looked at Eragon in the eye.
"I will do what I must."
A/N: So there you have it! The filler chapter that I am somehow not very happy about…Le sigh. Certainly not my best chapter… My writing skills have retarded, not to mention a severe bout of writers block… GAH. Anyways, enough of this… let's move on to the reviews… Thanks for reviewing everyone! Please let me know how I can improve further on this chapter okay? I may reupload it! Love you!
BrightWatcher: Thanks! I thought that Murtagh was kind of a coward in Inheritance…Its not about how you fall down, but how you get back on your feet again, right? =) Thanks again for reviewing my story! Haha. The bonus bit was me feeling guilty for kinda abandoning this story for a few solid months, so…:D
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