"Arya, what are we doing?" Eragon asked, his breath coming in short bursts. And while he asked and questioned he didn't remove his lips from hers, nor his hands from her back, but a small part (a very small part, almost inconsequential really) questioned what he was doing with Arya.

Other parts of him, parts who knew what he was doing very acutely, didn't want to question what was going on, but his brain needed to know. Because if his brain knew then his heart wasn't far behind and he could stop what he was doing if and only if she knew what they were doing. Because once his heart got involved it was most certainly only down hill from there.

"Why?" She asked, one of her hands sliding into his hair and scraping her nails across his skull, causing ripples of sensation to cascade through his body. Her other hand slipped to his lower back and gripped his shirt tightly in her fist.

He didn't know how to answer her so he lifted her slowly and pulled her closer to him so she was straddling his outstretched legs and pulled her flush with him as he deepened the kiss rested his hands on the lower swell of her hips. She responded in kind and gripped him tighter to her, the kissing getting a little out of Eragon's control, yet he was helpless to give in because his heart hasn't quite kicked into gear.

His brain, however, was just about to disengage when she suddenly pulled away from and sat against the opposite wall, the eggs and fire between them, when the world suddenly came crashing down around him.

That's what he was doing.

He could feel his heart racing, feel the burn in his lungs as he tried to catch his breath. Still feel the echoes of the tingles that ran down his spine from where her nails scratched their path from the top of his skull to just below his hairline at the top of his neck. He could feel her mind closed off to his, but he could still hear tendrils of the music that were open to his mind the sounds from her mind. Perhaps those were echoes too.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, her hand covered her mouth and she had the good grace to look as embarrassed as he felt.

"For what?" He asked, just as quietly.

"That." She whispered back and a snippet of her feelings from the past several minutes jumped unbidden into his mind until her was suddenly blocked from her feelings. He was surprised that she was as out of control of her mind as he was, but his own mind was a whirlpool of thought and feeling and if she was feeling even an iota of what he was feeling, the fact that she was losing control wasn't all that surprising.

But he was still surprised.

He made a move to sit up, but a pleasing voice asked in his head that he stay put, so he did what she asked and sat back against the wall, slowly reaching his mind out towards her. Pulling his gaze towards her he watched as her green eyes studied him, her mind an impenetrable fortress that he sat outside slowly, saying over and over again, Talk to me Arya.

They sat that way for several long minutes staring into each other eyes, her blocking him out and her staying strong with her fortress mind. It was in this moment when he saw her truly vulnerable and open that he knew that no matter if he lives for several millennia he would forever love Arya.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt the barricades in her mind lower. Layer after layer of protection slowly falling to let him into her mind. When she was finally open with him he took a step back and respected her space, trying not to overwhelm her with his presence. Holding back and not doing everything that he'd wanted to do for the longest time. But he didn't, because he knew that the second he over stepped the process of respect she would slam her barricades back in place and never lower them again.

Then he would truly lose her and his heart couldn't handle that.

I'm sorry. He whispered first, the music of her mind nearly overwhelming his control.

You shouldn't be. She replied, her musical voice filling his head, sending new shivers down his spine.

I feel like it. He was slightly ashamed that he acted with such impropriety, but he couldn't fully bring himself to fully regret the actions. The dull throbbing in his lips was sure to last for several hours ensuring that he wouldn't forget it for a long time.

I acted rashly, it is I who should apologize. She whispered back, her voice apologetic. That he could regret.

No, Arya, you did not act rashly. We've been moving towards this moment for the last nine days, one could argue the last thirty years. Neither of us has anything to apologize for. The corner of her mouth upturned in a smile but it quickly faded and her face returned to the stoic mask it was before.

He smiled in response, his fingers itching to reach out to her and hold her once more.

Eragon, we shouldn't have done that.

I know. He responded, but we did, so we should talk about that.

What do you want me to say?

That it wasn't the mistake you're thinking it is. We shouldn't have done it, yes, but Arya, it wasn't a mistake.

How can you be so sure? There was a note of insecurity in her voice that he had never heard before, and if he hadn't heard it just now he wasn't sure that she was capable of such an emotion.

"Can I come over there?" He asked aloud, and if it weren't for his elvin eyesight he might have missed the slight nod that accompanied her response.

He stood and crouched his way to her through the low ceiling cave, around the fire and eggs and sat seven inches away from her. Her green eyes turned towards him and he smiled at her, which she was quick to return.

"I'm sure because throughout my entire life, with one exception, I haven't seen love that truly works. I've seen people who are married, people who tolerate their spouse, people who hate the person their married to, and for every single one of them, there has been this aura of negativity that surrounds them." He paused and slipped his hand into the space between them, fingers up and open for her fingers. "But when I'm with you, when we're together, in any fashion, all I can feel is the goodness in the world."

But you, more than anyone else, knows of the negativity that exists.

Close your eyes, he whispered to her mind and watched as she did what he asked.

Give me your hand, he waited the several seconds it took for her to comply.

Remember when we felt the dragons before we could see or hear them? She confirmed her memories with a mental nod, her fingers wrapping around his.

Feel the dragons in the eggs. I know you could feel their discomfort earlier in the rain and cold, but now, listen to nature. Feel the way the fire wants to warm the eggs. Feel the way the cave itself welcomes the eggs.

It's not just the living that react to the dragons presence. The living provide the world with energy, the ebb and flow of universal continuity. The world, the dirt, the inanimate, knows that dragons are about.

It's true, the land flourished with the presence of the dragons. It wasn't just the plant life and the animals that were better, it was the entire mound of the island that became better, yielded itself to the dragon's presence.

Why does it do that? She asked, her voice filled with wonderment. He knew from his time in the forest that being surrounded by the trees and the animal and insect life that the world was a great place, but the whole world longed for the presence of dragons.

That is what love is. Dragons are the most majestic of creatures, there is a longing for togetherness that the world feels for the magic of the dragons.

He brought his hand up to her cheek and gently twisted her head to face him. Her eyes opened slowly and Eragon was taken away at the subtle beauty that was the deep green of Arya's eyes and he was mesmerized by the flecks of gold that lined the outer ring of her iris's.

"That feeling. That longing… that's what I feel for you." He nodded towards the dragon's eggs, their warmth filling the space around them, and their contempt singing it's praises to the world.

She whispered his true name and he felt a power shiver spill down his entire being, drenching him in the knowledge that his love for her still stood strong and powerful in its intensity for her. He knew, that for the first time, even though she had known his true name before, that she finally understood all that he felt for her.

"How long?" She asked.

"Since the first time you appeared in my dreams?" He voiced in the ancient language, it was pretty much the truth. He fell the first time he saw her, the first time her heard her voice, the first time he saw he kill a man. Everything he saw in her made him love her more.

"I know you know this, and I know I've said it before…" he paused, to give her time to tell him not to talk anymore. "I love-"

"I know you do." She cut him off, placing her fingers on his lips to stifle the flow of words from his mouth.

"You do?" He asked around her fingers, the words coming out mumbled which drew a smile from her.

"I do." She responded, dropping her hand from his face.

"I know that you don't love me the way that I love you, that the way I love you. But I do Arya-Dröttningu, I love you." He whispered as she pressed her lips to his, stifling the flow of words from his mouth.

"I never said that Eragon." She whispered, pulling away from him and looking him in the eye. "I do care for you, a lot." He noticed that she didn't say love, it dropped his heart a little, but he kept that too himself. "I know that isn't what you wanted to hear, but Eragon, this – you and me – could never happen."

"This did happen Arya. This is happening." He said.

"You mean more to me than anything else, but we can't do this." She whispered, stroking his cheek once more and kissing him softly, chastely. With that she put up her barriers once more and moved him away from him and to the opposite side of the cave and turned away from him.

He sighed and wiped a tear from his cheek. "I'll be outside." Luckily the rain had stopped, but the chill still lingered in the air, and he could hear the ocean across the mountain range, roaring with all its might as his heart thumped a painful rhythm against his ribs.

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The rest of the journey passed in silence. The only connection they had was the gentle presence of minds and the occasional word of caution. Arya felt horrible about what had transpired between them, but knew it was the only way to guard her heart. In the process she knew that she broke his, but she was also protecting him. There was a faint voice in the back of her head that reminded her of Fírnen, that told her she was being lied to by herself.

The wild ones were helpful and sent them back with two new eggs, one a dull black and one that was a lighter green. It was almost a mint colour that shone as bright as the sunshine. They were able to identify the poisoned wood, but not its source, they were also able to say that it's at its most potent when combined with dark magic, a fact which was worrisome to both Eragon and the dragons, dark magic having been gone from the world since the fall of the black king. Arya was also slightly worried that this information came on the same day when they received an egg that was dark like that of the black king.

Shruiken was forced to hatch for the black king, so his madness could almost be excused, but the population of Alagasiea might not react favorably to a new black dragon.

The wild ones welcomed her to the ranks of Dragon Rider and commended her for her duty to her kind, but the behind the praise was an undercurrent of warning that she also owed some allegiance to the dragons and her fellow warning. Also with the presence of the dark magic and poison in the world, especially the new home of the riders, she should be on her guard and prepare to answer the call of the riders should they need her. Arya knew that the peace the pervaded the land couldn't last forever, but she had hoped that it would last for longer than a generation.

But now they were heading back to the home of the riders, Eragon had tucked his egg inside his undershirt against his chest and the necklace that he wore, and sacrificed his cloak for the egg that she carried because as the journey wore on the temperature dropped and the gale that peppered the beginning was making its return, and yet they were not stopping this time. Eragon wanted to get back to check out the wood and poison they had collected, also to return the eggs to the eldunari, and confer with the other riders and Chester.

"Arya?" He asked, the first time that he'd directly spoken to her in three days.

"Yes." She answered, noticing the way he kept his voice devoid of all emotion and sentiment.

"If you could be so kind as to not mention my indiscretion to the others. I know you never would, but I ask that you don't tell Fírnen also." She was hurt that he even asked, though he started by saying that.

"Of course, but Eragon-" She started, wanting to apologize.

"No Arya, you've said enough." There was a note of anger in his voice, and he silenced her with a look before his face was an emotionless mask much like the one she wore.

She had said enough, but knew that she should say so much more.