Arya found only a few hours of sleep in the early afternoon.
It had taken her the better half of the day to come down from her restlessness and to reflect all that had happened to her – and all the things that still happened within her. A day she had spent in her small apartment near Minuial's main place with the shutters nearly closed. Even though she regretted the waste of her scarce time – time she could have spent outside, enjoying the sun and the wonders that surrounded her – she had refused to occupy herself with anything else or to distract herself in any other way from her recent dilemma – though she suspected that at the same time she was again thinking ways too much.
But she was determined – determined to not disappoint him again.
She never wanted to stand in front of him again as she had this morning. Tthe next time they met she would know exactly what she wanted – and what not.
And so she concentrated, listened deep within herself to sooth her strained nerves and to calm her troubled mind, hoping that her heart as well would heal with her efforts – heal enough for her to finally hear its voice.
When the light outside was receding again she felt Fírnen stir within the depths of her mind; he had kept himself quite absent for the last few hours and in a way she was glad that he had not tried to tamper with her too much.
But now she sighed deeply, comfortably, when he infiltrated her being again and rummaged through her to find even the slightest of nuances of her moods and thoughts. Smiling gently at his obvious care, Arya kept still and let him have his way.
She stared at the panels that adorned the ceiling above her. How nicely they were crafted – the natural form of the former stem was still visible, the bark and knotholes not whetted away… How everything here was so nice and so natural…
"It is not like you to be drawn away by daydreams… Are you still tired?", he murmured to her, smugly though, and made her smile.
"Not my body, no. But I cannot say the same for the rest – I still feel quite exhausted, though I dare say more sleep will not make me better."
"What do you think would make you better then?"
"You know the answer, Fírnen", she but murmured and was nearly drowned out by the deep growl that now rumbled through her mind.
"I see", the dragon spoke in a deep voice, "So you will go to him again tonight? I cannot see that you made up your mind though; are you truly ready to meet with him?"
Fírnen could not see how Arya pressed her lips together, he could only feel her discontentment that suddenly flowed through their linked minds.
"Ready? I don't think I can ever be ready for him… Is that not the problem? No matter how much time he gives me, how long he remains patiently waiting for me, I never feel ready to be confronted with his affections or to return them, sometimes not even to receive them…"
Again a growl rang through her, its tone much gentler now though.
"Now you are too hard on yourself, Arya… But I see you speak with new clarity now. So you are determined to go, ready or not?"
Nodding, Arya answered aloud:
"Ready or not, indeed…"
And she sat up from the couch she had rested on, watching the sun touching the mountains above Minuial through the window close by. It would be dark before she reached Eragon's estate.
"Ahh, the night…", Fírnen spoke again with a smile in his voice, "They say the night belongs to lovers, I have heard…"
He chuckled when Arya rolled her eyes, but he knew that he had made her smile yet again, a result worth any ridiculousness.
It was dark when she walked down the paved streets of Minuial.
The darkness and the silence that surrounded her were so complete, so all-encompassing as if she were the only person alive in this magnificent city. Only the dim lights of candles, lamps and magical werelights that flickered here in there through a window or open door proved her otherwise.
With delight she drew in the cool, clear air, enjoying the supple odours of a summer's evening – warm grass, sweet blossoms, the heady scent of the moisture that came with the chilling of the air…
And she walked on.
She could not really say whether she was decided or not – or whether there was something left for her to decide. She could not deny the truths anymore she had witnessed with her own eyes and senses of even greater importance, nor the unquestionable urge that moved her feet on and on and on.
As for the doubts she still harboured – she knew that he would not be able to answer her those questions, nor would she, no matter how long she wracked her brains about them.
Only time would.
And she walked on.
Always onward towards that one light that penetrated the darkness in front of her.
It seems Eragon could not find any sleep either.
She heard the music long before she even reached the lawn that bordered on his estate.
The soft, light tones her keen ears perceived at first tore her from her daze and in her surprise she stood still for a moment and listened for more.
What she found at the edge of the hearable was a smooth, varied melody – a melody she had never heard before.
Anticipation rose within her and she redirected her course, followed the music's track though knowing quite well where she would find its source.
It took her only minutes to reach the yard that usually was his dragon's place for the night – instead of the front door, a former destination now abandoned due to the haunting melody that had led her astray.
Saphira's cushion was deserted, but Arya wondered not for long at that while her feet moved nigh on soundlessly over the enamelled ground – time was running out for Fírnen and Saphira as well.
With a small sigh she stepped into the cone of light that shined through Eragon's vitreous backdoor, blinking once when her strong eyes accommodated to the brightness. Inside the room was lit by a yellowish, warm yet undefined and so obviously magical light source.
A small smile graced her features when she found the one she was looking for.
He was facing away from her, his head slightly bowed in concentration, sitting at the grand piano she had seen but never heard before – and he was playing so beautifully.
The unknown composition he played was as varied as the flowers in his garden – and just as cheerful, as doleful, as joyous and even as tearful as the last day had been for her…
Distracted like this it took her another moment to realise that the door was left ajar.
Smiling even wider at what could not be a coincidence she opened it carefully and stepped inside without making the slightest of sounds. Cosily warm air washed over her when she drew the door closed behind her and leaned herself against the wall just beside it.
Eragon gave no sign that he had recognized her, he only kept on playing his lovely music – but Arya knew that he must have recognized her even before she had laid her eyes onto him.
For a few more minutes he kept on playing and Arya kept on listening until a sudden change in the rhythm of the music told her that the piece he played was coming to a slow but sure end.
She did not want it to end.
She did not want the severity to catch up with her so soon again.
"Don't stop…", she whispered lowly, knowing that he would hear.
He did not answer her, he did not turn to look at her – but she could see the corner of his lips twitch upwards.
And he did not stop playing.
The music changed, the melody slowed down, the notes lingered longer, vibrated through the air, forming a much more soulful, much more sensual tune than before.
Closing her eyes Arya slid down the wall, seating herself on the soft deep pile carpet with her arms wrapped around her shins and her head leaned backwards.
Suddenly she remembered what he had told her days before…
"… it had become a habit to play just for myself whenever I had something to ponder about…"
There had for sure been much for him to deal with today.
The song he had chosen was just perfect, just perfectly fitting her needs and moods at the moment and she admired him secretly for playing with her heart just as expertly as the instrument.
And as such she remained as long as he played, listening, enjoying, drinking in the haunting tune and felt her agitation ease and her heartbeat slow down. And her eyes stayed closed until the last note faded away with a last mournful accord and silence surrounded her again.
When she opened them again she found Eragon searching for her gaze with a serene, calming look in his dark irises.
"You are playing beautifully", she whispered, "Somehow I hadn't thought it to be so good… Maybe I am not used to see you performing any other art than those of warfare – and again I realize that I have to broaden my horizon when it comes to you."
Eragon considered her words for a moment yet seemed to decide to keep his thoughts for himself; only his so knowing smile broadened.
"I am glad you liked it."
"Have you been awaiting me?", asked Arya, nodding to the now closed door.
"It was a possibility – and I thought I should better take all the chances I have", he said, still smiling, and stood up, "Come on, let's seat ourselves somewhere more appropriate… You look as though you need a drink just as much as I do."
Arya nodded her approval and stood as well. She was slightly surprised when he turned from her, awaiting her at the end of the room. A moment later they walked abreast into the living room and even though he smiled so kindly at her he still kept his space and made no move to approach her. The change is his demeanour was subtle on the outside but well obvious to Arya's intuition and instincts.
And stark in contrast to what she had experienced just this morning.
Maybe Eragon could see hints of her astonishment in her face, because his smile became a tad cheeky a second later.
"Make yourself comfortable", he nodded towards the quite historic couch in front of the fireplace, "I will be back soon."
With that he left her, heading for the kitchen she guessed.
And still he had not even tried to touch her.
She shook her head, amused about her own reaction, and decided to ignore her irrational notions. Doing as Eragon had suggested she headed leisurely towards the crackling fire, taking her time to look around the room for the second time of her stay. The tapestries, the scarce but tasteful furniture, all bathed in the warm lights of the Erisdar and the fire… It was not what some would imagine the house of the leader of the Riders would have to look like – but it looked much like Eragon – homey and warm.
Like at her first visit she stopped at the commode with the Fairths – the Fairths of all the people he loved – of his family. And again she smiled gently – and sadly – when she saw the familiar faces of so many people long gone and buried.
And then there were the pictures he had created of her…
She heard Eragon stepping into the room again and was already on turning towards him when her eyes fell on a Fairth she had not recognized before – and on it a person she had never seen before.
It was smaller than most of the others – but no less sensual: A brown-haired woman was kneeling in a well-cared for garden, holding a red rose in delicate fingers and smelling on it, her eyes closed with enjoyment.
She was human – but she wasn't wearing a dress as human women tent to do but a leather shirt and trousers quite similar to those she herself had worn some very, very long time ago.
And she was beautiful.
"Eragon…", she called for him. Frozen as her gaze was on the lean face on the cold stone she could only hear him placing glasses on the table, "Who is that?"
She turned then, finding him looking into her direction with a surprised look upon his face – that soon turned to amusement when he recognized the coloured slate she held up.
"I see…", he said, grinning wider, "This is someone very special for me…"
He drank in her face and couldn't help the quite impolite laugh that escaped him when he saw the incredulousness in her frozen features – it was a sight to behold.
His manners soon coming back to him though, he decided to release her.
"It's my mother, Arya."
He was still smiling when Arya's gaze snapped back to the picture she held, now taking it in from a new perspective it seemed.
Chuckling all the while he let himself sink down on the couch, crossing his legs.
"Yes… This is all I have ever seen of her – she died not long after my birth, as you maybe know. I wish I had met her once though… On the other hand I suppose I should call myself lucky that I had at least had the chance to meet my father. Though Oromis gave me this Fairth, not Brom", he spoke on while pouring them some wine.
Meanwhile Arya had placed the Fairth back on the commode again and finally stepped closer, a strange look of thoughtfulness on her face. She knew that she was being watched keenly as she sat down beside him a tad stiffly.
"But it was Brom who had created it?", she asked gently.
"Yes. He left it with Oromis so I would be able to get it one day… I have never asked you", Eragon began again, his voice a bit lower now, "Have you even known your farther?"
"Not really", she answered, maybe a tad surprised, "I find only vague pictures at the edge of my mind and memory when I think of him. I was not even a year old when he went to war – and never came back."
Eragon nodded.
"That's what I thought… I am sorry."
"Don't be – the pain that lies within this loss is only a product of imagination and correspondingly a small one. You cannot miss what you have never known."
Reaching for the glasses on the table, Eragon took a moment to think on her words.
"But still am I sorry – for you did miss something every child deserves – and so did I."
Watching him keenly, Arya took her glass from him.
"But we survived – and now, as adults, we find ourselves on the other side of the coin – responsible that other children are not so likely to share our fate", he raised his glass, "To your health, Arya."
Nodding she took a sip of her wine, her thoughts elsewhere.
"You are very pensive tonight… What is on your mind?"
Chuckling lowly Eragon leaned deeper into the cushions, but Arya could still see the thoughtfulness behind his nonchalant behaviour.
"I had a very pensive day, indeed. And so there are many, many things on my mind – but one result of my day's labour is, as you may have recognized already, to not mess too much with what should be your very own decisions", his grin widened, "Here we are again, but one day later, yet tonight it is ladies' choice – so do what you want with it."
A moment of silence followed his words, but Arya seemed not too agitated or surprised, maybe rather glad that he had explained himself.
"I have recognized… that you are so far away", she but whispered, "It is unlike you."
A strange look flashed over his face – a bit of astonishment, amusement – and emotion.
And then settled with gentleness.
"If you wish it to be elsewise…", he shrugged his shoulders with a tender smile, "Just do your will, Arya."
His smile widened a moment later – he could practically see her thinking, see her calculating.
He watched her taking one of her hands from the wine glass they held and reaching out for him slowly, nigh on shyly. With deep gratefulness he took her offered hand, enveloping her fingers with his.
As common as this kind of touch was between the two of them, as heartening was it for Eragon when he considered her gesture in the light of what had happened this morning.
"I am glad", he answered her silent proposal and her fingers tightened along with his.
Taking another sip from his glass he considered her carefree, relaxed features with benevolence.
"You are looking better – better rested now. Could you find some sleep this afternoon?"
"A bit, yes. Yet it was not so much sleep that had improved my condition, it is rather… Well, I think the worst of the storm is over if you know what I mean..."
"Is it?", Eragon asked with raised eyebrows.
She looked aside for a moment, thinking with an indefinable look upon her face.
"Yes, I think so. The storm is over – even though the sky might not have cleared completely for now", her eyes found his again, infiltration his gaze, searching, probing for more.
"I have spent the better half of the day thinking, Eragon… Thinking about you – about us. I have come to the one or other conclusion – but by far not to as many as I would have liked."
He smirked when he realized that she mirrored the words he had spoken earlier.
" But… before I speak on…"
Taking her hand from his she placed her glass on the table while Eragon watched her with interest. Her hesitation was obvious, but he could see that the source for her faltering was not fear and not false pride but rather the immense concern she held for him.
And it warmed his heart.
And his eyelids fell shut for a moment in enjoyment when she enveloped his face with her warm hands, leaning forward slightly to better look him in the eyes.
"I have wronged you, Eragon. I thought I knew you so well… but yesterday I have wronged you – terribly."
Her forehead sank down, touching his, and her eyes never strayed but remained firmly locked onto him, within them the same care and remorse he had seen once before.
"Arya, you already said…"
"No, not really. Not thoroughly enough. Please let me speak."
And so he fell silent again and only looked at her, at the slight crease in between her brows and the so various shades of green underneath her so elegantly outlined eyelashes.
"No matter what had happened – it was not right to leave you, to leave you behind as I did yesterday. It was cruel… and heartless. I behaved badly – and for that I beg your pardon. Will you forgive me?"
But she could see the answer she sought already in the stark sympathy – and empathy – displayed within his now dark brown irises. Only his lasting silence unsettled her somewhat.
"Why don't you say something?", she but whispered to him and drew back to better see his face. Her hands left his skin as well and laid folded within her lap a moment later.
"You know the answer, Arya. I don't think there is anything you could do that I would not forgive you in the end. But now that you have come to speak of what had happened yesterday, a question had come to my mind and I am wondering why I never thought of it before…"
Frowning she beheld his suddenly stern features – but felt reassured but a second later when he caressed once down her cheek with the back of his hand.
"Arya… Do you trust me?"
"Of course", she answered immediately and in a voice that made clear that she was taken aback by his question.
"Don't answer too frivolously – do you really, really trust me?"
Now her face turned quite stern yet the so well-known tiny crease upon her forehead amused him somewhat.
"With my life. And I don't have to think any longer on that, Eragon. And you know that."
"Yes… But what is with your heart?", he but murmured and seemed to startle her again, because even after a moment of contemplation her features did not lighten up.
"What do you mean with that?"
But Eragon did not react to the slight exasperation within her voice; only a twinge of sadness wavered through his voice when he spoke on again.
"It made me wonder you know… Back then, even before I left Alagaësia, on the day I had met Fírnen for the very first time – you had trusted me enough to give me your name, but not enough to give me your heart… Why? I just… If I could just understand what disturbs you so much… I wished you could… not only trust me, but believe… Believe into me, believe into me enough to trust me with all your heart. To believe into us. Why can't you bring yourself to just believe in it, Arya?"
She looked down – but only for the tiniest of moments, and took a deep breath.
"This was a very long time ago…"
"I know. But it seems the concept hadn't changed over all this time, had it?"
But she frowned.
"I am not sure you are right… It is not… not the same now", swallowing dryly she turned to the abandoned glass to her right. Folding her fingers a tad too thoroughly around its neck she took a few sips before speaking on.
"You have been so young, Eragon… Back then you have been so very young – and human. And the whole situation – we had been in the middle of an overthrow, I had just become queen, everything had been so unstable and so new for me – it had made me unsure too. It had overwhelmed me at times."
Silently she reached for his hand, looking down onto their now entangled fingers.
"But… what I really cannot argue away is that you didn't do anything wrong, not from the very first day. You might have declared yourself a tad clumsily, well, more than a tad", and for a moment both smiled at the memory, "But still you never did anything wrong – and maybe that is the worst of it."
She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and emptying her glass of wine. Eragon sensed the sudden devotion she declared herself with and therefore remained carefully silent as not to disturb her line of thought. Her words, her explanations were a balm for the unsureness and doubts that plagued him as well.
"When we met again in Ellesméra, just two years from today", Arya proceeded, her gaze locked on an undefined spot so far away, "When you stood in front of me again I could see all the affection you still harbour for me, and it made me think… Though obviously not enough to understand what was happening with us – or to realize what it could mean to me. But at this time you were more memory than solid feeling for me. It took me some time till my heart and mind could… could see you again as you are… And then, yesterday… Maybe it was necessary... Maybe I had needed the pain – to all its extent – to stop and finally start thinking…"
Her gaze shot up to him for a moment, exposing how difficult it still was for her to share such deep confessions with him. But more than with anything else she displayed her affection for him by doing it nevertheless.
"When I met you at the lake I had a painful process behind me, and even later it needed some good help from my bonded partner, but finally, finally I began to realize what I had refused to see for all these years: In a way I did not even trust myself. I didn't trust myself enough to see behind the façade. The day we had shared our names for the first time I had rather believed in the prejudices that I have been told than to look at what is standing in front of me, than listening to what you said to me, than looking close enough into your heart to see the truth.
Disguising myself behind reason I had refused to see you as you are, even though you told me exactly that, even though you practically screamed your love at me… You have been so young… and I was afraid. And I could not see any further – I did not dare see further – or to look closer, all the same… In the end I didn't trust myself enough to believe I could be… enough for you."
"Arya…", Eragon chided her, but was silenced with just a look of hers.
"Yesterday I have not been as aware of those facts as I am now. And then you had taken me by surprise, you know, what didn't really help…"
At that Eragon just had to grin.
"I know. I am sorry. If I had known –"
But she was smiling as well, hushing him with pressing two fingers onto his lips. Her smile widened even more when she felt his lips twitch in surprise underneath her fingertips.
"Our situation is one so complicated and the conflict so ancient in my mind that I couldn't judge objectively in the few seconds I had to react. I did what my reflexes told me – I drew back.
I drew back from a possible dilemma I would entangle myself in, drew back out of fear of what could happen with me if I let go of control… I usually don't let go of control. I was told, from the very beginning, and I have been very young when my lessons started, that it would bore me ill if I would. I am not used to let go of control, Eragon, and never, never had I not fought to regain it immediately if I had lost it.
In this moment I haven't trusted enough into you to give control to you, that is true. It will take me some time to be this up-front when I am with you. I fear that's just how I am…"
Smiling a bit wryly at him, she though tightened her fingers around his, contradicting her words.
"That's quite alright, Arya. I very much like the way you are, you know."
Eragon succeeded at his goal, making her grin yet again. And even more, to his immense amusement she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, playfully and coquettishly even in a way that told him that she was flattered.
Sobering again, he cleared his throat.
"And now? Arya, do you trust me? Here and now?"
She too turned serious again yet the calm and gentleness in her eyes were obvious and differed dramatically from her former incertitude.
"I do. Of course. I always have. I was just… a little overwhelmed at times."
And again she paused as if she had to think on what to say – though the words were already on her tongue, just waiting to be uttered aloud. Taking a deep breath she slipped one hand up Eragon's forearm, gripping him with a slight pressure. The unheralded touch felt strangely intimate; enough to draw all his heightened attention onto her.
At this moment his former words came unbidden to her mind.
Do your will, Arya...
She swallowed once – and then spoke.
"I trust you so much that I know that laying in your arms doesn't mean falling to your feet. I know that you would not aspire to hurt me, or to play on me… And I don't believe anymore that you would so easily switch your affections to another woman. I am not that blind."
They grinned both at her last sentence, a chuckle even escaped Eragon's throat. But his amusement was tiny compared to the joy her fundamental statement had sparked.
How openly she spoke about their affections – about their so very special yet indefinable relationship. It felt refreshingly new and satisfying.
Glad, simply glad for her, for everything she was for him, he let go of her hands but immediately reached out for her again. Her eyelids dropped for a moment when he touched her skin.
His fingers found her face easily, naturally, stroked over her cheek bone one by one, down her jawline, along her nose, in serpentines over her rosy cheek…
His hushed voice met gently with her ears, his tongue caressing every syllable.
"How does that feel for you?"
And she answered him without opening her eyes but with a smile on her lips.
"Nice…"
"Nice?"
"Yes…", her voice, reduced to a hushed whisper, told him as much as her actual words, "Very nice…"
His heart swelled with affection, waking urges within him that he found hard to deny. Sighing he leaned in and touched his cheek gently to hers, holding her carefully with the hand that still caressed over her face.
"You know", he breathed against her ear shell, "It feels very nice for me too…"
Her soft giggle washed over him, warm and cosy over his skin.
"I thought as much", she murmured into his ear and leaned against him for a moment before drawing back again.
A bit puzzled, Eragon searched for her gaze. She was looking thoughtful – though the small grin that answered his scrutiny appeared regretful.
"There is just one thing… One other thing I want to speak of…"
Cocking his head, Eragon encouraged her with a small nod.
"Of course. What else is on your mind?"
But a frown appeared on her otherwise smooth face, concern again dominating her gaze.
"King and queen we are in our own rights, yes, yet our realms are so far apart – how can we but hope to ever touch each other, Eragon?"
A second of silence followed her words, but she spoke on before Eragon could even react.
"I know not what you think – what you expect. But… no matter, no matter what else might happen:
I cannot stay, Eragon. I cannot stay here – and I cannot stay with you."
The finality her voice was interlaced with sent his mood somewhat downcast – but he could understand her worries, better maybe than she would believe. Nevertheless he granted himself a moment to think on what to say. Taking a deep breath, knowing that this time he didn't have a magic key to solve the riddle, he began to speak in a low, gentle voice.
"First of all: I do not expect anything of you – and again I see that you might have gotten me wrong, because of so many thoughts of mine that I had never declared clearly to you."
And immediately he was smiling again when Arya seemed so obviously surprised – though her frown did not cease.
"Really, Arya. Did you really think that I would have wanted… that I would have insisted on that? I would never expect of you to give away your crown at a moment's notice, nor for you to decide within the next five minutes whether you stay here or not – or whether you want to share your life with me – or not. I don't want you to lose or leave anything for me – after all, if nothing else love should be for free", yet he shrugged his shoulders at this own statement, "Well, all right, maybe we will not be able to manage that completely… And of course I would love to have you here all of the time – but, as said, I cannot expect that of you. We have to slowly walk the stony, wandering path before we reach the open fields, then we still can start to run – metaphorically speaking. I am well aware that it will be trying sometimes; I never thought it would be easy – and never had it been before. But it is a price I am willing to pay, and now you will have to decide whether you think so too – or not."
With irony he realized that he too now spoke of finality.
Arya as well took her time before she told her thoughts, yet the look on her face made it clear that she was absolutely not sure about this issue, and her voice was so deadly quiet...
"The question is not only whether we are willing to pay the price – but also whether we are able to bear paying the price… Or whether this all – whether we – are fated to end in turmoil after all."
But Eragon shook his head, fear and sadness gripping his heart yet again.
"If you – if we really want to we can make it work, Arya. There are so many ways of staying in touch, distance is of all things the least that can separate us, don't worry about that."
But she didn't seem convinced, her eyes still doubtful.
"It can separate us – it already had once."
"Only because we had allowed it to happen. At that time I didn't know what to do or how my life would go on – you cannot compare the situations. I will be more determined to stay in touch with you in the future."
Smiling gently he caressed over her forehead to diminish the crease he found there.
"Do you know what I am scared of, Arya?"
Her eyes widened slightly at his suddenly very quiet, fragile voice.
"Some very, very long time ago I had told someone very close to me that I am well aware that people tend to fall in love more than once – but today I am not so sure anymore. Some things after all might happen just this once in your lifetime…"
He drew in a deep breath, reaching out for her hands again.
"It is not that a casual thing to find someone you love – someone that you love the way I love you – nor to be loved by that one too. I don't know if that is veritable for the two of us, but as long as there is just the slightest chance that it does… Do you understand what I mean? I am of nothing more scared than of this: Even in a life that will last for hundreds or thousands of years there might be just this one single chance to find someone like that. And if we just let it float away and perish like dust in the wind… I am scared of never finding someone again for whom I feel for what I feel for you as I never had in all these years of your absence.
Should we give up this easily? Just because it might be difficult? Und even if my life will indeed last for a thousand years – I would always wonder what could have been, whether you had really been the one for me, and how it could have been between us…
This is what I fear – that we throw one of the best things in our life away, just because of some petty doubts… Don't you think so too?"
When he spoke his last sentences his voice sounded like breaking… Emotion and desperation flowed thickly through his veins, maybe even more intensively than justifiable as Arya seemed intrigued by his speech, her light, wide eyes scrutinizing him with amazement – but also woefulness.
"Everything seems so easy when you say it… So easy that I start to doubt it again because it seems much too easy...", she looked down for a moment, studying the hand that rested within her own.
When her eyes found his again though he could see a new determination, a clearness that had been absent only a minute earlier.
"But then… The longer I am with you, the more can I understand your point of view, as different as it is from what I have known, and the better can I see the light, the hope within your words. And suddenly, just because it is you that had uttered it aloud, suddenly it all comes so naturally to me, and my heart feels so light and my thoughts so clear, as though it had never been any different, as though... "
She hesitated to carry on when words her dragon had spoken just this very morning came to her mind again…
As though you would finally know where you belong to – instead of other times, Arya…
She swallowed hard once – and never told Eragon what Fírnen had said to her, startling when his voice drew her back to the here and now.
"It is very nice that you feel this way. I don't want to make things any more complicated for you, you know. And I will be gladly here for you whenever anything seems not at all this easy for you."
"I am not used to… to lean on anyone for support though."
"No", he said with laughter in his voice, "Nor should you, as Queen – but as a woman you have every right to do so. Lean on me, whenever you need someone to share your troubles – just as I will come to you when I shall need the comfort of your proximity. That's what love is about, isn't it? To be there for each other…"
Such lovely words he spoke… The care he displayed so obviously gripped her and her guts, her heart clenched with the emotion it provoked.
She was shifting…
"Yes…"
Drifting away from herself… Far beyond her comfort zone.
"Eragon…"
She called his name like a wail, reaching out, leaning into him on a sudden urgency. Her forehead pressed against his, their noses gently touching she wrapped her fingers in to his hair, holding him, securing him…
Falling into your arms…
She sighed and he breathed in her air as his arms suddenly enveloped her, drawing her even closer. And never did she resist when he pressed her body against his, so close that she could feel every contour of his body underneath his sophisticated clothing. Unasked, unbidden a shiver shook her as his warmth enclosed her.
Who would have known that she would ever feel something this intense for anyone? The notion felt nigh on rebellious for her more rational self. Inclining her head, cradling her cheek against his, she felt him move against her, following the line of her jaw, feathering over the lobe and tip of her ear – and finally resting just at the nape of her neck. His warm breath tickled the sensitive skin he found there, his lips touching her ever so faintly, and with an elation she couldn't quite fathom in this moment of passion she felt goose bumps crawl up the flesh of her arms as if she were cold – or exposed to a sudden heat.
But she could not go on like this – there was another answer she needed before any of this would go too far.
And even with all her self-control it cost her quite an effort to tear her mind away from all the bliss.
"Eragon", she called out his name, leaning slightly back, just enough to see his face again. His features seemed thoughtful and gentle – but his eyes had darkened too.
Reining in her own thoughts, Arya took another moment to slow her breathing, to sooth the excitement within her…
"I need to ask you something…"
Yet her eyes slid closed when his hands crawled up her face again, enveloping her cheeks.
"Ask away, Arya, always ask away…"
"Eragon", she whispered again, opening her eyes, searching for his, for whatever there was in their depths, "You said you loved me… Is it true? Because… if not…"
But she was silenced when anguish tore at his features; the sadness in his gaze nailed her down and already she was regretting her words.
"After all I told you… After all that had happened, you still believe I would lie to you? Especially about something like this?"
She was silent for a few long moments and she realized, without really thinking, that he spoke the truth.
"No…"
Her lips smiled a slightly unhappy smile as she shook her head, yet strong hands steadied her.
Why was it always someone else who enlightened her way? Why did she always need another's words to see the truth?
"No, actually I don't…"
Eragon's smile seemed so much happier than hers.
"And what about the woman I love?", he murmured so softly to her, leaning his forehead against hers again, "What does she feel now?"
He could see her eyes widening the tiniest little bit and the shades within them moving restlessly.
What did she feel now?
Her deep intake of air tickled over his lips when a low voice reached his ears.
"She is confused... Still so much confused about all what had been, and of all what might be. Much more as her heart wants her to be – much more as I could ever justify in front of myself... But – I did not lie to you: I am not afraid anymore."
And indeed, now there was a resolution in her eyes that he had missed before.
"I understand", he murmured, his breath washing over her lips, "I though, I am afraid at times... And yet – hopeful still. Hopeful, that her heart may overcome even the last of her doubts, for I know of the vast strength within it."
But even while he spoke these words to her he knew that it would take her much, much more time to really feel safe and sound with such a decision or with him – and he could not blame her for that.
For he was sure that it would take him even longer to be sure of her – to really believe that she shall be his – if it ever were to come that far…
If he just knew what was going on within her, if he could just feel what she felt… For all her words, rich in explanation as they were today, were by far not enough to really let him understand what was on her mind – or what her heart was speaking to her.
Was she just as touched as he was? Or were her feelings for him still not enough, not enough to take all the risks, all the burdens that she would be exposed to when accepting his proposal?
A slightly ironic smile tore at his features.
Who was he to chide her for her doubts? In the end he was not better off than she was.
"What is it?", Arya asked gently; obviously she had recognized his sudden pondering.
"I just thought… Well, it was not important. I wondered though – or rather wished I could just see, or feel, what is going on within you…"
To Eragon's slight surprise her features became softer with his words, the smile on her face lazy and soft.
"If this is what you want…", she whispered in a low voice, leaned further into him – and startled him even more by brushing her mind against his with great care.
When the first moment of astonishment had evaporated Eragon welcomed her cautious touch eagerly, opening himself for her.
They approached each other slowly, even reluctantly, carefully touching, probing first the outer surface of their beings.
With joy Eragon caressed over the so familiar entity; he had not felt her for so long yet the music of her mind, the texture that made up the most obvious qualities of her character had not changed. Listening deeper he found the rhythm that dictated the tune of the music – the feelings that made up her current mood. He felt her nervousness of being forced into a situation so unusual for her, the awkwardness of him being so close to her, mentally as well as physically, the worry of hurting him or herself that restricted other parts of her, and the seething conflict of her duty and the wants that would agonize the very same, would be selfish…
Those feelings were strong within her and not to be underestimated, but they were not dominant, not anymore. For lighter melodies flowed thickly through her mind, songs so gentle and beautiful they took his breath away.
He found her deep affection for him, an affection strong enough to rival all those inclinations of her mind that tried to keep her from him, as well as the real want to come closer, to know him even better, to let him know her own even better… A fact that pleased Eragon especially.
Some of those feelings had been obvious for Eragon, some he had vaguely guessed at before, yet he hadn't expected to find something within her he was completely ignorant of.
He was surprised though.
It was not a straightforward, currently existing feeling that astonished him, but rather a lingering note that resonated underneath her emotions – it arose in the urgency she radiated.
Never would she complain, not even in front of herself, of that he was sure. But the suppressed needs he found deeply buried in a small chamber in the back of her mind could not be denied either.
He was sure now that she was lonely sometimes.
It was strange how this insight startled him; he thought he knew her well enough to see behind the façade she built up for those who are strangers to her, yet now he recognized how much she still was blinding even him.
An unbidden thought arose from deep within him, an image of her all alone in the darkness, wishing for someone to share her troubles…
He abhorred his very own imagination, even though it was just that - his imagination, but the sheer possibility that she should suffer like this left a bad taste in his mouth; especially because he knew that she would always be too strong to allow herself to linger on such a feeling.
Yet that she had to mortify any feeling of hers to remain… functional didn't very much appeal to him either.
And he knew so well how dark and cold a night could be. And he knew quite well how lonely even a Rider could feel, even when his best friend was always with him.
In this life are just so many things you can miss – and even an immortal life sometimes is not long enough to seize all the opportunities.
Shaking off these thoughts before he could linger any longer on something this saddening, he listened deeper, searching for every quiver and quake of her body and mind.
And then there was this other notion within her… And he never could have imagined that.
For sure he was well aware that this affection they shared, an affection between a woman and a man that goes farther than friendship, that it consists by definition and quite naturally of more than just a mental component.
He hadn't been aware though of the purely physical necessity he found within her.
She had told him after all that she enjoyed his touch… She was a grown-up woman with all the needs of a creature made of flesh and blood – why was he surprised then?
And he knew the answer the moment he asked the question – because she had never showed it.
It had taken them a long way for her to accept his affections; a journey that was still unfinished.
He understood then that she hadn't been ready before – not sure enough to let actions follow her own wants – maybe she was not even ready for that tonight.
And again – he could not blame her.
He loved the concept though.
That she would want to touch him.
That she would find him appealing.
He smiled inwardly – he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.
Sighing with the joy she elicited he let himself float even deeper into her being and at the same time opened up even more for her until he could feel the thumping of her heart and the sound of her blood rushing through her veins – and every little tremble of her thoughts and feelings when she examined his mind the same way as he had with hers.
He felt the involuntary flexing of her fingers around his upper arms and the quickening of her breaths, how the air tasted on her tongue…
He kept his eyes on hers when her forehead sank against his.
"Arya...", he spoke her name both to her mind and to her ears and the tip of his nose nudged gently against hers.
He felt what the touch of skin against skin provoked - both in her body and his - and it took all of his self control not to close the gap between their lips.
It was her decision. It always shall be her decision.
And he could feel what she felt. And he knew that she felt what he felt.
The accumulation of emotion was immense and flowed unrestraint between them like a current.
How pure, how intensive and raw want could be...
Yet his patience soon was rewarded.
"Arya...", he mumbled again – and fell silent as he felt the uproar that suddenly coursed through her.
His gasp of astonishment was silenced when her lips brushed against his, enclosed them, not gently, not carefully, but passionately.
Stunned as he was his lips froze against hers for a moment, but it took not long for the scent and feel of her so close to bewitch him and his eyes fell shut along with hers.
With a hushed moan that rose from his throat he answered her plea and moved his lips along with hers, caressing and pressing against the soft, warm flesh that touched him so gently, so exhilaratingly.
She had kissed him.
The elation this revelation brought on was obvious – for both of them – and he felt Arya smile against his mouth when she read his feelings.
She had kissed him.
His arms tightened around hers, drawing her even closer, even tighter against his chest and when she was pressed against him wandered up to hold her neck, his fingers crawling into the silky tresses he found there.
He let himself sink back against the cushions behind his back, holding her with one arm around her waist, and smiled in return when Arya's fingers tightened on his shoulder as she tried to steady herself.
Yet her mouth never moved as much as an inch from his.
Gravity helped him in his suit and in the end it was hard to tell whether she was leaning or rather laying onto him and the increased down-pull only intensified the pressure of her lips against his.
The feel of her like this, the incredibly closeness, her breath brushing against his skin, her lips moving along with his – this all was still so new, so stunning, so entirely enticing that he couldn't really grasp what really happened with and within him and he really couldn't do anything but allowing his body to react naturally, instinctively to the warmth of the woman in his arms.
His hand began wandering over her back and even though his touch was blunted by the felt shirt she wore the experience was exquisite. He ran along the slight valley of her spine, along the contours of her shoulders and waist, his palm and fingers stretched to feel as much of her as possible. He was not too gentle in his investigation and the reaction it brought on was released as a gasp against his lips.
"Don't go away", he mumbled, not separating their lips, "Don't you ever go away again…"
Yet now, with sharp intake of air, she drew back, her eyes though still glassy with excitement also wide with a sudden unrest.
"Eragon", she whispered very lowly, "I will go away again. I will always go away again –"
But two warm fingers pressed down on her lips before she could say anything else.
"I know. And it won't matter to me as long as you keep on doing one other thing for me", he gave back just as gentle and his fingers slid from her mouth to again cup her cheek, "And it seems you are already so very good at it… If you knew how lovely it is what you are doing – that you always keep and keep on coming back to me again."
It took her a moment to understand but then the skin around her eyes softened along with her agreement of his words.
"And for no one else would I even consider to give in to such a proposal – for no one but you", she swallowed once, eyeing him with obvious care, "Maybe we have that one more thing in common: There had never been one like you in my life, no one else who had meant to me what you do now… I will always come back to you again, Eragon. It just might take a while sometimes…"
"Arya… What are you saying…", sighing with contentment he brought his hand to the back of her neck and used it to lower her face carefully down to his, planting then a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.
He stayed close to her, thinking for a moment on her extraordinary words and marvelled at the affection she displayed – as he always did.
"Something unbelievable had happened to me – I fell in love with a woman that I did not know, even before my mind allowed me to believe that she could be reality – and now here she is, here with me. I still cannot believe at times that all of this should really have come true – but one thing I am sure of: This world is changing so fast, so fast that we have to run to not stay behind and constantly it is expected of us to change our believes and attitudes – and who we are to love and whom not. Yet at the same time the only thing that doesn't change is that we simple want who we want. And so it also and always shall be true for me."
He didn't quite know himself how he managed to skip from the throws of passion he had been in just a minute before to deeper philosophical exemplifications – maybe that was just the kind of effect she sometimes had on him. And obviously it was contagious, for Arya now seemed thoughtful as well.
"I know what you mean – but I am on the other side of the coin I am afraid", she spoke, still so very close to him that he could though read her eyes yet saw not even her lips moving, "I remember what I felt like this morning – and what I felt like yesterday and even ten years ago – but it feels like… it's hard to describe – maybe like I was yesterday, so long ago, someone so very strange… and not me. That's not right, it just was yesterday after all", but she shook her head, "Excuse me, I am not talking sane anymore… "
It amused him somehow how she tried to keep her composure, excusing herself so formally while still clinging onto him so tightly.
"Life is change, Arya. Maybe it is about time for you."
She eyed him a bit doubtfully then but not too severely; on the whole she really seemed quite content where she was.
Smiling at both that thought and her unease he leaned up to her, nudged, not really kissed her cheek once as if prompting her to react to him.
She did.
Smiling at his playfulness she leaned down and into him and met his lips again, caressing him with small, innocent pecks.
"If you knew", Eragon spoke, word by word in between her kisses, "just how satisfying it is to be able to just kiss you…"
And then he held her tighter, pressed her down against him and used the moment of surprise to move his lips harder against hers.
He would never get enough of the taste of her.
Never.
"Very satisfying indeed", he smiled at her when he had drawn back again, looking in her excited eyes, "You don't seem tired anymore… But I keep you from your sleep. You have a long way in front of you tomorrow…", his face fell somewhat, "You are still determined to leave tomorrow, yes?"
She waited a moment before answering but couldn't find any way to make what she had to say sound any better.
"Yes, I have to. I really have to. But", she smiled now, caressing over his face while speaking, "I am here now, Eragon. And if you want to I will not leave you alone tonight. I have to make up for another night I left you so all on your own."
"You don't have to make up for anything… But, yes, stay, please", he murmured, burying his face in her so sweet smelling hair, "Stay with me…"
"I will", her light voice caressed over his skin, "I will stay – and not only until the next bend in the river… I will not leave you again, Eragon, you might just not always be able to see me – but I will be there…"
Her words burnt in his heart.
Like fire.
Like a fever that burnt away his anguish.
Smiling like an insane he wrapped his arms around her body again and before Arya could utter even a word he had turned sideways, taking her with him.
Side by side they lay, nestled tightly together on a couch that was too small for the two of them, but it didn't matter much to either of them.
Sighing, Eragon drew her against him, kissing, caressing her face with his lips so tenderly while the fire in his back burnt down and darkness enclosed them in its comforting oblivion.
Hey guys,
So, long wait again for the next chapter… I hope it was satisfying though – let me know your thoughts!
Greets,
AryaNuanen