CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: I Want You
A/N: Wow, nearly 300 reviews! You guys are awesome! A HUGE thanks to: Team Weasley Forever, ReillyScarecrowRocks, ShatterTheHeavens, Restrained Freedom, Luli Cullen, Lobo de Fuego, EvilBunny101, Mighty Lion, TheNightWhispers, CuttlefishShiz, FredandGeorgeWeasley'sLil'Sis, Moonstar2015, Lottie, , talk-ape, Merial Spaise Archer, Sarana Ishtar, TheLastRider, and evie898!
Okay, so next chapter will be the last. I hope you guys have enjoyed this story, and that these last two chapters meet your expectations!
"I'm going crazy here by myself
I want you and no one else
Sending out a signal of my distress
I confess, I'm obsessed."
- Obsessed, Boa
It did not feel like a victory. Although the Empire was defeated, there was still a lot that needed to be done. Eragon looked around him with a heavy heart. The cost of winning Alagaesia had been severe. First there were the soldiers that had died, young Nolfavrell among them. It had made Eragon feel like there was a weight in his stomach when he realized how many lives had been lost because of the battle.
Then, there were the Riders themselves. None of them had escaped unscathed, not really. Tristan was practically catatonic since the news of his sister's death. Delia stayed by his side, attempting to bring him comfort, but Eragon knew that if Murtagh's mission failed, Tristan would most likely stay that way.
Murtagh. He had been an enigma the whole time, leaving Eragon uncertain as to whose side he was truly on…but he had proven himself in the end. Then he and Thorn had left suddenly with the Eldunari, confusing Eragon. Murtagh claimed that he could still save Ashen, yet Eragon didn't know how he would accomplish this.
"All will be well." Arya placed a comforting hand on Eragon's shoulder. "You have proved yourself to be a worthy Rider, Eragon. There is still a King to be crowned – and am I right in saying that there may be more you must do?"
Eragon remembered what Angela had said. He would leave Alagaesia along with Saphira…only now he knew the reason why. Islanzadi had been talking about the elves searching for the country they had first originated from. This was a land of men now. The time of the elves was over…and Eragon knew that Arya would leave with her people. He would go with her.
"Yes. Saphira and I shall leave with the elves. There is no more for us to do here in Alagaesia. We have played our part."
Arya examined him with wide green eyes. Eragon impulsively took her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the forehead. She closed her eyes and allowed the contact and he felt his spirits soaring. There was a chance for him and Arya after all.
"What about the Riders?" Arya questioned him, "Should you not lead them? Saphira is…"
"She is not the last female dragon," Eragon said, thinking of Aziza, "She does not need to be the mother of her race. Besides, Delia would make a much more efficient leader of the Riders. She is older than me by many years and an elf besides."
Arya was silent for a few moments, considering this. She cocked her head to the side with a puzzled expression.
"So you wish to accompany the elves…to accompany me?"
Eragon nodded vehemently. "If you would allow me. I can think of no higher honour."
Arya observed Eragon almost curiously for a few moments, before she leaned across and pressed her lips to his, kissing him passionately. Eragon wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. It wasn't until they broke apart that Eragon thought of Murtagh. His poor brother had lost the girl he loved. They had all got their happy endings – all except Murtagh.
Ashen opened her eyes. That in itself was miraculous, because she shouldn't even be alive. She had closed her eyes to the battlefield, and she had never expected that she would open them again. Only now that she did, she never wanted to close them again – because right before her stood Murtagh. She reached out to him with a cry, and he swooped down upon her, showering her with kisses as she sobbed into his neck.
"I thought I'd left you," she choked as her hot tears soaked into his shirt, "I didn't want to leave you."
"It's all over," Murtagh whispered into her ear, "Galbatorix is dead. Zander is dead. We have won back Alagaesia."
Ashen didn't understand. She knew her wounds had been severe. She had been almost certain that she had died…yet here she was. Here they both were. She bit her lip and drew back, holding Murtagh's face in her hands and inspecting him, those stormy grey eyes, the seriousness etched over his features.
"What happened?" she asked, releasing him, "I thought I was dead…I was sure that Zander killed me."
Murtagh swallowed hard and nodded. "He…he did. Only, I was told of a way to bring you back. Thorn and I travelled to the Vault of Souls. There it tested everything I knew. I saw horrible things. The lives I'd ended. The things I'd done in Galbatorix's service. Then I saw you. I knew I couldn't give you up…" He licked his lips. "I was offered a choice. I could release the souls of the Eldunari. I could set them free and gain you back…but in doing so, it would cost the Riders much of their power. After all, during the battle that was where we gained so much strength. But…I don't think we will need so much power with Galbatorix gone. So…I chose you. But…"
Ashen hated hearing that word, 'but'. She knew that there must be a catch to her being alive. She examined Murtagh with concern as he heaved a sigh and averted his gaze.
"But what?" she persisted, "Murtagh, what is it?"
His eyes flicked up to meet hers as he paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Your life-force is tied to mine. When I die, you die. I have the lifespan of a Rider, so I'm sorry…but I have condemned you to living for almost eternity…"
Ashen clambered off the bed and crossed over to him. Her legs were weak like jelly, but somehow she managed to walk. She took his hands in hers and planted a butterfly kiss on his lips.
"As long as I spend it with you, that doesn't matter. You saved my life, Murtagh. For that, I owe you everything."
Murtagh shook his head slowly, something fierce burning in his eyes. "No, Ashen. You saved me. You gave me hope. It was because of you that I was able to escape Galbatorix. So I suppose we are even."
"Slow down," Tristan laughed as Eragon tilted back his head and drained his goblet of mead. "Just because it's your seventeenth birthday doesn't mean it is an excuse for you to get drunk. That wouldn't impress Arya."
It had been two weeks since Galbatorix had been killed. Since then, it had been discussed who the new King of Alagaesia might be. There were several rumours, but Tristan thought he would wait until announcements were made so that he could be certain.
It would be nice to think that evil was dead – but Tristan knew that there was always dissention. There would come a time when there would be more challenges to face, but he didn't want to think about that. They had been waiting a long time and now they had finally achieved their goal…they had been waiting for evil to rest, waiting until it sleeps.
"Don't be such an old man, Tristan," Ashen grinned. She looked stunning with her blonde hair braided with flowers and she was wearing a flowing dress of sapphire blue. "It is your nineteenth birthday in little more than a month. I'm sure you'll drink all you like then!"
Tristan? Fafnir cut in almost tentatively. There is something Aziza wishes you to know.
Tristan took a gulp of his own mead. Which is?
She is pregnant.
Tristan's eyes widened with shock and he spat the mead out in utter astonishment. This was really an issue that Tristan didn't want to know about, yet somehow he noted the solemnity in Fafnir's tone and he knew.
You're the father, aren't you? Well…this is fantastic…
Fafnir sounded dryly amused. You know, sometimes I can't tell whether you are joking or not.
Sometimes, neither can I.
Tristan started to wonder. A baby dragon – or was it dragons? How many eggs did dragons lay at a time? Who would be the Rider of Fafnir and Aziza's baby? Tristan's eyes drifted almost unconsciously to Ashen. She would make a fine Rider, yet somehow he knew that wasn't her destiny. His gaze settled upon Delia. She would almost certainly know the truth about Aziza and if she hadn't chosen to announce it yet, then Tristan knew it wasn't his place to.
Several of the dwarves were singing pub songs up on the table, to raucous laughter from many of the soldiers. A heavily pregnant Katrina stood watching with a smile, Roran's arm draped around her shoulders.
Tristan frowned as he glanced back around. Murtagh had come to offer his congratulations at his younger half-brother's birthday, but he was no longer here. For that matter, neither was Ashen. Tristan suddenly decided that what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and in fact he probably didn't want to know.
"More mead," he muttered to himself, practically lunging towards the drinks table.
Delia smirked as she noticed Tristan's expression. "So you have finally realized where your sister and her Rider love have gone?"
Tristan gulped down mead and slammed the goblet on the table. "I don't know where, no. But I know what. I believe that's incentive enough for me to keep drinking mead until I forget. I don't want to be tempted to go and tear his head off."
Delia laughed. Tristan loved it when she laughed. Until recently, she had hardly laughed or smiled at her. Now, with her violet eyes glittering with mirth, he saw how beautiful she was. He moved forward and their lips collided with force, a crash of iron will and fierce passion.
Ashen stumbled from Murtagh's tent in the early hours of the morning, the screams having woken her. She glanced around in alarm as a woman rushed past with towels and her tense shoulders relaxed. She had thought perhaps they were under attack, been unwilling to believe it…but now she thought she knew what was going on.
"It's Katrina, isn't it?" Ashen asked as a second woman passed her by, "She's giving birth?"
The woman nodded fervently. "Aye. It is not for the faint of heart, Lady Ashen. Lady Delia is with her delivering the child."
Ashen wasn't sure that she wanted to see what was happening, but then scolded herself. It was one of the ways of the world. She did want to see Katrina and Roran's baby, after all. So she followed the woman to the tent.
Katrina's hair was lank and her face shone with sweat. Delia knelt beside her with a small, red, squalling infant. The pure love in Katrina's eyes as she took the child in her arms made Ashen smile. Roran sat beside his wife, his hand marred with nail marks – yet his eyes glistened with tears of joy as he stared down at the tiny creature.
"You have a daughter," Delia announced with a smile tweaking at the corners of her lips, "What will you name her?"
Katrina glanced in askance at Roran, who nodded, looking totally overwhelmed by everything.
"Marian, after Roran's mother."
Delia held out her hands. "May I?"
Katrina reluctantly handed over baby Marian. Delia placed a hand gently on the child's head and started muttering a blessing in the ancient language. After a few moments, she carefully handed the baby back to her awestruck parents.
"Thank you," Roran muttered, unsure what Delia had said but grateful for the blessing all the same.
The tent flap opened and Tristan stood there with a serious look on his face as he looked at the scene, at the loving family that was Roran, Katrina and tiny Marian. He cleared his throat and they all looked up.
"Nasuada requests your presence, Roran. She says that it is urgent."
Roran looked reluctant to leave his wife and newborn child, but Katrina smiled faintly and nodded. He sighed heavily and got to his feet, following Tristan out of the tent. Ashen moved over towards Katrina, sitting beside her in Roran's place and gazing down at the tiny infant with nothing short of wonder.
"This had better be important," Roran growled as he entered Nasuada's presence, "My wife has just given birth to our child."
Nasuada smiled a little tiredly. "This is wonderful news. I would ask you all about the child, but there are more pressing matters at hand. We have managed to trace lineages of the families living in Palancar Valley in an attempt to find out who is descended from the true kings. It would appear that you, Roran Stronghammer, are to become the next king of Alagaesia."
Roran's eyes widened in shock. Him? He had the ability of a leader, that was true…but a king? He wasn't sure that that was what he wanted, especially when his predecessor would be a mad tyrant who had usurped the throne. Lucian, the young lord of Belatona, stepped forward.
"You would not be alone, Roran. You would have the Varden's support of course, and I would be more than willing to become your advisor."
Roran lifted his chin proudly. If this was what he was destined to be, he wouldn't question it. If he was supposed to serve Alagaesia in the manner of becoming its king, then he would do so in the best interests of the people.
"I accept. If Alagaesia would have me as its king, then I would certainly rule it."