A/N: MonsterJunkie keeps asking for an author's note, so here we go. I like this story, I do. But I ended up in a bad place last March. I got really down, I wasn't depressed, just really sad. (I went to a therapist, depression wasn't on the table.) And it took a long time for me to come back. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, I hope it doesn't happen again, but the mind does what the mind wants. But just so you know, I hope to be here for a while. Thank you for the reviews and the kind words.
~RawPotato
Eragon knew that he shouldn't have spoken to Arya the he had, but he wasn't sure that he could have said anything to her another way. She let him kiss her, kissed him back, even allowed it to go one for several minutes and yet she had said it was a mistake. He'd poured his heart out to her again and was once more shot down. He didn't know why he'd even bothered to try, he knew without a doubt that he had to let her go now. It would be a struggle because he hadn't been able forget her in the last 30 years, he doubted the next thirty years would offer him solace. Luckily he knew that he had thousands of years in the foreseeable future to get over her and that would be his next task.
Now he knew what true heartbreak was. He thought he'd known the two previous times she'd rebuked his advances, but he was wrong. For some reason his youthful heart had still maintained hope. But that flame was vanquished now as she put him down for good.
So he reacted immaturely and didn't speak with her for the next five days, except when he was teaching her and all of the other riders. She listened attentively and did her work like the others, but only tried to speak with him when in the instructional setting. They both knew that she was more the master than he was, but he was the Lead Rider, he had more experience and ability with fighting than she did, but she didn't often show him up.
Except how he was worried, it was the final test for her until he would deem her ready for the world, he would have to meet her on the sword field. He knew that she would best him, he knew that she knew that she was better at sword fighting than he was, but it was one of the obstacles that he'd set down for the riders. If they couldn't best him, and there weren't many in this realm that could, they had to at least be able to handle him one on one for a long stretch. He had battled many of the strongest swords Alagaesia had to offer him and he had come out victorious more times than not.
Most of the not had been against Arya. It was a foregone conclusion that she would best him, but the young riders needed to see them cross swords, to see what true sword play was like.
The rain had left their home lush and green, the eggs were in his house, he'd been unable to take Arya to see the eldunarí, his anger and frustration at her overwhelming him to the point of not being able to be near her in any fashion. He knew that it was his job as the lead Rider to rise above all of these situations, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. The fact that he loved her so much meant that now he hated her so much.
Except he didn't hate her. That was the problem.
Striding onto the sword field he saw that Arya was there already, practicing lunges and parries, and he had to police his urge to smile and take in joy at her appearance. His mind reminded him that she didn't want him the way he wanted her and that he shouldn't be glad to see her. Because he was supposed to not like her anymore.
Sitting on the wooden barrier that marked the boundary of the sword arena were the four young riders, glee and mirth written all over their faces. Several of the elves that had committed their lives to the continuation of the riders walked around the ring and were there to watch this fight. He and Arya were known to have intense battles against each other, and he knew that today would be no different.
All six matched dragons were around the ring as well, Saphira was next to Fírnen, and Eragon suffered a quick pang of jealousy which he quickly stamped down. He would not give into feeling jealous over his dragons feelings. She deserved happiness, no matter the cost it brought him, he would not stoop so low as to prevent her from love.
"Okay, let's do this." The four young riders gave a whoop of cheers as Eragon approached Arya. She wore her traditional black leather outfit, her hair tied tightly in a knot that sat on top of her head, Támerlein at her side.
He untied Brisingr's sheath from his side and threw it to the ground where he dropped his cloak, leaving him only in his boots, a pair of leggings and a black tunic that was open at his chest. He could feel his pendant swinging around his neck as he blunted Brisingr's edge. He watched as Arya did the same, and they met in the center of the ring to shake hands and kept the contact brief because he felt a jolt of electricity pass through his hand and down his spine again. He flexed his fingers as he took several steps backwards to start this battle.
Take caution Little One, the rider of Fírnen looks fierce like a baby dragon on its first hunt. Saphira cautioned in his mind and he offered a small smile knowing that she was looking at him.
Why aren't you cautioning her? He asked, as he and Arya circled each other, both swords hung loosely in their hands, blades facing down.
I love you Little One, you are a fierce warrior and a prime specimen of the two-legged types. However, she has bested you several times before. I worry about you.
Thanks, Saphira, you know, for being on my side. He said with a small touch of resentment.
Of course I'm on your side, I don't like seeing you hurt.
You think I'm going to get hurt? You know, you could just say 'good luck.'
You could listen to me.
You're an over grown lizard.
You'd still be tasty.
Neither of them had yet to make a move towards each other, and Eragon had a sneaking suspicion that Arya was having a similar conversation with her own dragon judging by the look on her face.
One day Saphira, you're going to be so convinced of my tastiness that you might have to sample me yourself.
Who, then, would be left for me to tease?
Oh, all of Alagaesia would love to be teased by you I'm sure.
Yes, but you're the one I love, so I suppose that I'll have to restrain myself.
That makes one person that loves me.
In a turn of fates that Eragon couldn't be sure weren't ordained by whatever gods ruled this world, Arya chose that moment to attack. They parried back and forth furiously, and despite his improved skill, Arya still had the upper hand, however it wasn't as pronounced as it used to be and they were almost evenly matched.
Seconds and minutes slipped by in a blur, parries and lunges and taps were given and every time she tapped him he was able to tap her back. Sweat was forming on his brow and he could feel it dripping down his back as she fought him.
For a long while she got the upper hand and after a particularly nasty smack to his back, he felt his anger rising and her frown told him that she was finding this just as difficult as he was, yet she still maintained the upper hand. Then another smack to his thigh and his sword erupted into the blue flame that was it's name sake he only noticed as the magic pulled against the special place in his mind and saw the flames just as he was about to deal a blow to Arya's shoulder.
Seeing the flames he swore loudly and pulled up short so as not to hit her with the magically enhanced flaming blade. The move of not hitting her dislocated his shoulder and he dropped the sword. It lay on the grass flaming as he lifted his sword arm with his other. The match over, all the people in the arena ran to him.
Little one! Saphira shouted in his mind.
I'm fine, please stay back so I can give the hatchlings a lesson.
Are you sure Eragon? You're hurt, I can feel.
I'll be fine, I promise.
Arya reached him first, and the first thing he noticed was the sweat that lined her brow and her upper lip. He was overtaken with the urge to kiss her again, but that was probably just the pain talking. He couldn't be sure, but she gripped his hand tightly as his eyes watered with pain. "Looks like you win again," he winced out, not sure that any of them could have heard him.
"You never could beat me Farm Boy." She whispered in his ear, the rest of their group surrounding him.
"No, no I couldn't." He smiled at her, turning his attention to his students. Their faces were a myriad of emotion ranging from glee to concern to joy and excitement. "This, young riders, it was defeat looks like. There is pain," he grimaced as one of the elves poked his shoulder in exploration of the wound. "And suffering. Arya and I had dulled our blades, just as you do every time you spar. There was little chance of accidental injury."
"But master," Frain started, "you got injured."
"Yeah," Derrick cut in, "why did you stop from dealing that blow to Arya-Elda?" The others glared at him and he quickly added, "Master."
"My blade is not like yours, as you probably saw it became engulfed in flames." He stopped the flow of magic and the blade extinguished its flames. Quickly his mind became engulfed in the pain in his shoulder and he swallowed it down to continue his lesson. "I wasn't sure that blade would have been properly dulled with the flames engulfed. Since we were only sparring I didn't want to cause her any undo harm."
"Don't ever pull back in battle. Arya and I are friends," the word was hard to say because he wasn't sure what hey were now, or what they would be in the future. "We both knew that, Arya knew that when I dropped my sword she had won and that the match was over." Her fingers gripped his tighter at those words.
"Correct. You never hurt the ones you care about." Eragon looked into her greens eyes and watched as she gave him a knowing look.
He still kind of hated her.
But he was confused as to what she meant. Arya was very often intentional with her words, and remembering what she said a few days ago about how he loved her and that she card for him, so he knew that she knew what she had done to him.
"The six of us, and our magnificent dragons, form the first and last line of defense for this world. We need each other the way that each of you needs your dragon. We work better when we're together." Everyone nodded at that while Eragon made the motion to stand and as he was helped up by Arya and Blödhgarm to his feet, he reached for the hands of his team. Arya kept hold of his right hand, helping to keep his dislocated shoulder elevated. The young riders quickly placed their hands on top of his and he continued, "We need each other. Remember that."
They looked at each other and nodded, grim determination on their faces. "We'll meet for dinner in two hours time, for now the day is yours. I suggest you wear your best clothes."
They all bowed to him and took their leave, Arya staying near him. Even though she suggested that she hadn't meant to hurt him, she had, and he was hurt beyond belief. So hurt in fact that he pulled his hand away from her. He though he saw a brief flash of pain, but it was gone faster than it came and he knew he wasn't nearly as forgiving of her as he used to be.
"Blödhgarm," he began turning to the furry elf, giving Arya his back. "Can you please fix my arm?"
"Of course Eragon-Elda." Blödhgarm took his shoulder in his hands and started singing as Arya turned and walked back towards her house. Eragon grimaced as the shoulder popped back into place, but the relief was immense as the elf sang songs of healing. When the elf was done Eragon opened his eyes and saw that she was gone, farther and faster than she should have been able to go in the time that he had had his eyes closed.
But that was Arya and his relationship, one second together, miles and miles apart the next. So tumultuous it was, Eragon never really knew which way was forward with the two of them.
"Thank you Blödhgarm." He said, stretching his arm windmilling the shoulder joint to test its mobility. It moved without issue but the last vestiges of pain still echoed in his mind.
"You are most welcome Eragon-Elda." He started with a slight bow. "The feast will be ready on time, and it will be grand."
"Thank you. Please, make sure you guys join us, tonight is a special occasion and you should all be there."
"Yes Eragon-Elda, we will see you there." Blödhgarm gave another slight nod and left towards the kitchen area and where the eldunarí are kept safe. He still owed Arya that trip to see the new home for the hearts and souls of the dragons.
He headed home to write her a quick note to let her know that he would keep his promise. Above him, he could see Saphira and Fírnen floating lazily above him, swooping together and doing rolls around each other.
She cares for you, Rider of Saphira. Fírnen's deep voice filled his head.
I know she does Fírnen, but she doesn't love me. He replied.
Elves and humans don't see affection the same way. Elves are a complicated race, Eragon-Kingkiller. Fírnen added.
Little one, all might not be lost. Saphira added.
Your partner of your mind and heart is correct. There is still a chance.
No there isn't. She said as much. He practically shouted at the dragons. Flashes of warning lit his brain and his apologized.
If you two would just tell us what happened on the journey to the wild ones, we could help. The thought came from both Saphira and Fírnen, so at the same time he thought they may have planned to have this talk with either of them at the first opportunity.
No. I love you Saphira, and Fírnen, you have nothing but my respect and admiration as Saphira's mate and the dragon of the elvin queen, but the two of you have no idea what transpired between Arya and I. And you won't know. Please, Saphira, I ask that you two let this drop.
Eragon put up his guards against the two of them, much to the protestation of both of them. He knew that they could easily crush him, but it seemed that they would let him be because they floated off together. Dropping the barriers, Saphira spoke one last line. We'll be back for the feast. You are the holder of my heart, partner of my heart and mind.
Eragon sent her a mental nod, and climbed the stairs to his tree house to send that note to Arya, he knew taking her to the eldunarí would be painful enough, he decided that sending the not was the only way he would e able to bring them together.
