I'm backkkkkk, my little duckies!! Miss me?
Did I mention how creepy some of you are by stalking me? And occasionally popping up in my emails demanding I write another chapter of one of my stories? Haha, I'm glad you're so...enthusiastic, and dedicated...and obsessed...*creeped out look*
Disclaimer: Chris P- thanks for lending Eragon to mwa for so long, but I'm afraid my affair with him has ended; I've moved onto bigger and better things.
Chapter Ten - Sway to the Beat of my Heart
***
The night the ball was held, was a warm, balmy summer's night. A gentle breeze blew through the large clearing, which was illuminated by numerous lanterns providing the only light.
A mysterious, dreamy aura was contributed by the luminous glow all around, the lights hanging on trees, sitting on tables and the lining pathways.
The wooden dance floor was polished to a high sheen, smooth and untouched. Riders of all ages stood around, conversing, laughing and sharing, holding drinks in their hands.
This year, the ale and beer was firmly forbidden to the younger dragons, as last year they set the gazebo on fire, which was further fueled by the alcohol standing nearby, which, needless to say, caused a relatively large amount of chaos.
Eragon approached this picturesque scene with Arya on his arm.
She was dressed elegantly in form-fitting emerald green that brought out her eyes. It dipped low at the back, and nor was it too conservative at the front either. Diamonds studded into the ruffled hems, sparked and shimmered in the light. As she walked, the dress flowed and danced behind them like a pale apparition.
The lightly brushed gold powder on Arya's eyelids lent her a glowing radiance that entranced Eragon whenever he ventured to look at her- which for his own sanity- was not often.
He himself was in a silvery tunic with a soft midnight blue shirt, black leggings and dirt brown boots. His hair, was for once in an orderly fashion, Arya taking it upon herself to tame the messy mop.
No matter that he was nearing his eighty fifth year; he looked like he was in his twentieth, as did Arya.
It was with a jolt that Eragon suddenly realized that he and Arya looked the same age. He did not know where that thought had come from, and brushed it away rather quickly.
They exchanged light banter on their way down, stopping sometimes to talk to mutual friends and acquaintances. Eragon watched a laughing Arya carefully, smiling to himself; she had changed so much.
The music was light and cheerful, a smooth melody with a catchy beat. Couples tapped their foot to the rhythm, crowded around the various dance floors, obviously keening to dance.
When he arrived, there was much elbow nudging and pushing, until those around bowed to him and some, although unnecessary in such relaxed surroundings- executed the riders' salute: a closed right fist, brought against the left side of the chest below the shoulder. Eragon rolled his eyes unobtrusively as some kept the position and bowing simultaneously for extra respect.
He stopped at the entrance and returned a bow at the audience.
Tedious courtesies observed, everybody fell back into loud cacophony and some came over to greet the two newcomers.
The light food, drink and snack were at a long table to one side, where mostly smaller children teemed, even though many had eaten their dinner already.
Gathering and quieting the crowd, the elders gave a speech, then Murtagh, and lastly a very reluctant Eragon.
"My fellow Riders, it is with great pride I stand before you tonight.
"This ball is to celebrate our eightieth anniversary of the rebirth of the Order of Riders. It has taken a strong trust and friendship within our previously small number to produce this now flourishing and expanding growth.
"You have all performed and done well this year, may your hard work, determination and honour. Hone your skill with the blade, archery, knowledge and peacemaking, apply yourself into your studies in our history, language, politics and all subjects.
"We stand for equality, and justice, and carry ourselves with pride and self worth, but be humble; for we are servants of the kingdom. Protect the innocent, give to the poor, set an example. These are the things all of the council and I expect," Eragon paused,
He grinned, the older riders chuckled among themselves, eyes darting to the younger ones,
"I want to wish you all a wonderful and largely…" he stopped again, looking pointedly at the dragons and their younger riders, "sober night. So, dance away!"
With a sweep of his hand, the musicians started up the music and the riders all cheered, dragging their partners to dance.
He strode from the stage and headed toward Arya, who was ineffectively trying to hide a smirk.
She spoke as he drew closer, "And just when I was about to tell myself how mature you have become…such a shame."
He laughed. "The message was serious enough, although the delivery may not have been…"
To her surprise, he bowed then.
"May I have your first dance, princess?" He asked.
She gave him her hand, "Certainly, Lord Shadeslayer, since you have been such the gentleman."
He chivalrously offered her his arm. She linked hers with his and they sinuously moved towards a dance floor that was somewhat less occupied.
The air had a soothing quality to it, as they stopped, Arya's hair lifted by the wind.
They faced each other, Eragon taking one of her hands, resting the other on her waist.
Murtagh wolf whistled at them, but both ignored him.
They swayed gently to the music while their dance gradually attracted more and more spectators. The two's matched steps transfixed their audience as they moved in time to the beat. It looked much like they had practiced it beforehand; their bodies were limber and graceful, one could compare it to a leaf dancing in the wind; movements flowing, fluid.
Their feet barely touched the ground more than a second before pushing off again.
They are an attractive couple, are they not? Saphira murmured to Areyn: an old friend of Eragon and her own who was part of the senior council.
Areyn's head was tilted, eyes fixed on Eragon and Arya, "Yes, Saphira, that they are. It makes my old heart warm seeing a display such as this," She sighed, "How I miss my pair bond. It brings up memories."
Saphira nudged her elbow with her snout, It was his time to go, dear one.
Soon, the people dispersed, leaving the two some privacy.
The said 'two' barely noticed. So lost were Eragon and Arya in the music, their hands had moved of their own accord: hers around his neck, both of his positioned on her waist.
Ocean blue met a bright forest green. They danced straight through several songs. Arya's eyes closed after the fifth, and she rested her forehead lightly against the front of his shoulder, exhaling softly. Eragon's head bowed a little, letting the pine scent permeate his senses.
The clapping after a particular song seemed finally able to rouse the duo, they stepped apart, holding hands and facing one another.
"You dance wonderfully, Lady Drottingnu," Eragon said quietly in the ancient language, she searched his gaze, there seemed to be something new flittering in those bottomless depths.
"Likewise, Eragon," She said, "even if we greatly exceeded the number of dances that are publicly considered polite for diplomats. Dozens of rumours will be enthused, and they will somehow make their way to my mother."
Eragon dropped one of her hands and held the other in both of his own, tracing the long slender digits affectionately, "Don't think so negatively, princess, things can end up to be the greater good."
"So you are saying that my beloved mother dying of a heart attack when she hears of this- is the 'greater good'? That I get the throne?" She asked teasingly.
He laughed, "You know what I mean. Anyway, who why would she have a heart attack? ...anyone would love to have me as a mate…" His eyebrow flicked suggestively, and he posed, flexing his muscles.
Arya slapped him lightly on the arm, "Incorrigible."
He grinned, "Wouldn't you know it."
"Know what?" She said, an undertone of flirtatiousness underlining her words.
They carried on their mockery of each other as passersby stared at them queerly.
Picking a secluded table, they sat down in contented silence as they watched the going-ons around them; Saphira downing ale after ale, with a visiting Orik that had come that morning as her drinking partner; younger couples swirling about clumsily around them; male riders trying to impress females unsuccessfully.
All too soon, the party drew to a close. The riders went off in twos and threes, already yawning and more than a little tipsy.
"Shall we go then?" Eragon asked, pulling Arya up gently out of her chair with one hand, "May I escort you to your room?"
"Of course, Eragon," Arya said, starting to wind her way around drunken students on the floor while Eragon followed, "What are you going to do with those on the floor?"
He peered around, "Usually we leave them, and the next day when they are late to class, they are given punishments...." he considered for a moment, "But we will make an exception, since tonight has gone so well. I will have some servants pick them up and transfer them to their respective rooms."
They made their way past the fragrant flowerbeds and green bushes amidst the cold stone walls.
When they reached the secluded level of their sleeping quarters, outside her room, she turned to face him.
They stared at each other for a while, not speaking, uncomfortable and not knowing what to say.
"You look wonderful tonight, Lady Drottingnu," Eragon said finally, his voice low and hushed, "Thank you for accompanying me."
"Arya." She said firmly, though a light flush arose on her cheeks.
"Arya." Eragon imitated.
Arya took her gaze evasively to his neck, "You have made me very happy tonight, Eragon. I haven't enjoyed such festivities in years."
He touched her hand briefly, "It was my pleasure." He gazed at her for a moment. "Good night, Arya… I will see you in the morn." He turned, and started walking. A voice stopped him.
"Eragon."
He turned around and waited. Arya was standing where he had left her, outwardly composed, but he could see her fingers twisting a little in the skirts of her gown.
She looked up and walked to him slowly.
His breath caught as the gap between their bodies lessened, and he could hear her quickened breathing loud in his ears.
Suddenly, he was aware of how isolated they were, how empty and quiet the hall was, and how the blood pounded viciously through his head.
Arya brought her hand up to rest in the middle of his chest, met his eyes. Tiptoeing a little, she raised herself to his height.
His hand automatically made it's way to her back, feeling unreasonably self conscious.
Her breath was soft, and the exhale fluttered against Eragon's cheeks. His eyes were on her, pinned, unmoving; confused, yet intrigued.
She bit her lip, tentatively leaning to him, she let her head brush past his, and laid a tender kiss on the skin of his face, letting her lips stay for a few heartbeats, the slight stubble on his jaw tickling against her own skin.
Her feelings and awareness were heightened strangely. She could smell his scent, feel his muscles beneath her fingers, his warmth radiated against her; everything about him seemed to overpower their surroundings, and blanket her.
The couple seemed like tragic lovers from a romantic ballad. Their forms stood in the shadowed hallway, a thin silver beam of moonlight shed light on the floor by their feet.
She leaned on him, barely a crack between them in their half-embrace. It seemed like culmination of centuries, of prophecies coming to life, as nature finally let out a long held-in breath.
Arya basked in his company; his presence was solid, and real. Then she broke away, their arms retreating to their respective owners.
There was electricity now, a spark. Their moment was over, but it's lingering effects brought many troublesome questions, reflections and evaluations.
She curtsied without a word, and with him nodding his head, expression every bit dazed as hers, she retreated into her room quietly, closing the door with a small thud.
Yes, I know, very cheesy and out of character. It was written a while back and I couldn't be bothered to improve it. My writing has changed a lot, looking back some of 'em, so some of the fics will be permanently ditched.
Sorry for the long delay…blame the Chuck fandom. It sucks you in like an evil bitch lol
I love Chuck/Sarah, they were made for each other (and us watchers).
So, I'm hopefully going to find time to post up the new chapters and finish off some fics, but don't expect any new ones from me for a while, I'm caught up in Chuck.
Does anyone else find the login format annoying? I can't find anything for the love of Chuck...
Anyway, review is love!