Will you pretty-please stop nagging me about it now?

Chapter 12: Justa

Age and power, years of authority. What had the Dragon Riders gained from this? Nothing but arrogance, pride, and an overwhelming sense of elitism.

Did they think they were the first to commune with the dragons? Their insolence was staggering. The werecats had come first. And yet because they were not bonded creatures, they were shunted aside, considered inferior.

And it angered Justa.

The werecats were respected, yes. Honored and revered, even. But the Dragon Riders, even the dragons themselves, had forgotten them in light of their new power.

And it infuriated her.

The Riders were an old and decrepit society, far too comfortable with their own might. They were complacent, content to sit and let things remain the way they always were. Justa wondered why nobody else saw this; it was so clear to her! She began to walk alone.

Alone, without the company of others. She left Solembum behind in Du Weldenvarden and traveled across Alagaesia. And all that she saw continued to fuel her own anger. Oh, the humans were well-off, and the dwarves were prosperous. But the only time the Dragon Riders interacted with either was when they came to lord it over them or settle a conflict. Did they seek to presume that nothing could be fixed without their help? And if they were as prefect as they thought, should there have been any conflicts to solve in the first place? Justa visited Vroengard last before returning, filled with silent rage.

And then a young Rider lost his dragon. Young and arrogant, newly graduated, stupid enough to travel where the lands were still feral and full of contention. He lost his dragon and wild insanity crept up on him, mindless, rolling insanity. The Riders refused him a dragon. Of course he shouldn't have been given one; at the time, though, it was just another reason for Justa to declare them greedy and prejudiced. Well, she only saw what she expected to, after all. Oh, if only she knew.

So she helped him. A baby dragon, no more than a week old at most, newly hatched. The one thing baby dragons depend on more than anything else…their bond with their chosen Rider....Ah, the foolishness of rage. Justa helped the mad boy steal a baby dragon. She turned her head as the dragon's Rider was killed; if she didn't see it, she wasn't a part of it. The boy's name was Galbatorix.

Even in her anger, Justa could see change when it came. She returned to Du Weldenvarden and Solembum to wait it out. The storm broke just as she returned; the news came that the boy she helped had murdered the school of young riders. Children. Humans and elves, no more than a few years older than Princess Arya. Slaughtered, all of them. Suddenly Justa's righteous anger didn't seem so grand.

Solembum knew, of course. He was wonderful at these things, putting two and two together.


Solembum, please! she cried, kneeling at his feet; both were in human form. A light rain fell on the forest, but the trees protected them apart from the occasional drop. He stood over her, a rose clenched in his fist.

I cannot, he stated. You know what you did to deserve this. He glanced at the rose in his hand. Justa, I'm sorry. The rose dropped to the ground. Solembum reverted to his cat form and darted away.

Justa dropped her head and screamed.


Oh, the pain when he left…well, there were reasons Justa tried never to think of him. If the reports of the deaths now coming in daily weren't enough, this convinced her beyond all doubt that what she had done was wrong, wrong, wrong. She left Du Weldenvarden once more, this time permanently, to wander Alagaesia again with a fresh eye.

And it saddened Justa.

Slowly, but with increasing speed, Galbatorix was gaining hold over the land. She saw everywhere signs and symbols of the changing powers, reminders of what she had done were everywhere.

And it distressed her.

Of course, nobody knew of the involvement of a foolish werecat. Galbatorix would claim the credit for himself, say that he alone managed to defeat the Riders. She was glad; she didn't want her idiocy to be widely known. Not that it would matter; she considered herself quite able to disguise herself from the accusing eyes of humans and elves.

Years passed; Galbatorix's rule was firmly cemented. She wondered sometimes if he remembered her, the quietly angry werecat that had helped him with his dark scheme. Did he ever think of her? Did he wonder where she was now, or if she regretted any of it? Justa decided to find out.

It took her some time, but she crossed Alagaesia and made her way to Uru'baen…Ilirea, it used to be. She knew it that way, and preferred to think of it that way. As Ilirea it had been a symbol of civilization; as Uru'baen it was a remnant of her folly. She managed to enter the city and palace undetected; outside the throne room she stopped.

Was she ready to face this man again? Would she see in him the innocent, crazed boy she had assisted, or was that masked by the iron-fisted ruler? Could she find forgiveness and closure in this confrontation? Justa could not answer any of her doubts. She retreated.

There was no assurance that any of this would help her. Justa's own self-doubt and sorrow could not hope to be allayed by anything Galbatorix might say. She wandered outside to the gardens which were, admittedly, exquisite. Justa took an instant liking to the gardens.

The gardeners were not pleased. Clearly, nobody had explained that cats had a tendency to go wherever they wanted; really, humans these days! So she ran from them, and was found by the Queen.

Her Majesty Riza I, Queen of Alagaesia. Justa knew this woman was different from the insanity that she remembered as Galbatorix. She seemed sad…if a brighter woman had existed once, now she was hidden behind grey shadows of solitude. Justa saw herself reflected in this woman, and elected to stay by her. Likewise, Riza found an unlikely companion in this dejected werecat.

Justa wondered what had become of her life, now. An honorable werecat, disenchanted with the world, had unknowingly helped ruin it? (Was she really 'unknowing'?) Whatever she had done, whatever she would do, Justa was content to let it pass over her and wait it out. She had time.

Now will you stop asking me about Justa? Meh.

supercodi95: thank you!

BlackHeart9: she should, but she won't. She'll regret it later, if it makes you feel any better.