Epilogue

Arya rose from her world of dreams to find their bed empty. She looked around and spotted Eragon sitting on the balcony. He was shirtless and had his legs hanging from the edge. A grimace appeared on her face. How could he be shirtless in the middle of a winter night? She got up, donned a robe and went outside, carrying a blanket with her.

When she opened the thin layer that protected their bedroom from the elements, she was happily surprised to notice how the temperature was more pleasant than she first imagined it would be. It wasn't warm, however, far from it. It was nothing that would justify someone being undressed outside, but it wasn't as cold either.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked and sat behind him, one leg on each side of his hips. Her hands fastened around his waist, after she had placed the blanket around them both.

Eragon shook his head.

"Was that a nightmare I saw in your mind earlier?" She asked softly in his ear.

He shook his head again.

"Then what was it, love? Are you all right?"

"You didn't see what it was?" His tone was emotionless.

"Only flashes. You know I don't fixate on the images, I only inspect your emotions."

"It was a vision of the future, I believe. The Eldunarí showed me."

"A bad one?"

"I don't know yet. Do you mind if we don't talk about it now? I wish to be sure of it first."

Arya took a deep breath.

"I do mind, you know. But I'll let you do what you think is best."

Eragon caressed the back of her hands that rested on his lap.

"Thank you, my queen." Emotion came to his voice for the first time, and it was a loving tone used only for her.

They sat in silence for a few instants, embraced in the night, her chin rested on his shoulder.

"Open your mind for me, please? I wish to show you a memory." Eragon said.

Eragon never had to ask her to enter her mind, they did it all the time, so his request created a feeling of importance between them. Without questioning, she laid down her defenses and felt his vast consciousness enter her mind.

He conducted their minds to Ellesméra. There was a big crowd dressed in formal clothes, flowers in their hair. All the elves had smiles on their faces, which indicated to her they were celebrating, but oddly, there was no music or singing. Their voices, when they dared to speak, were quiet. She recognized many faces. Rílven, Blödhgarm, Wyrden, Glaedr and Oromis, even Rhunön and the traitor Däethdr. In the back, looking younger than she had ever seen him, Fäolin stood, with his youthful curious eyes.

What is it, Eragon? Why are all these people reunited there?

Can't you figure it out? They were there for you. It's the celebration of your birth. You were a pretty baby, Arya. Eragon spoke with fondness.

Her eyes widened. She would've never expected that.

The celebration? She gasped.

He expanded their vision to capture her parents, Islanzadí and Evandar, sitting in big chairs; in between them, a cradle. People formed a line to walk by the cradle to take a look at the small child. Arya was a bright baby, with a pair of smart and gleaming green eyes, observing everything with atypical curiosity.

Arya saw her mother and father exchange a proud look when Vrael and Umaroth came to greet them and their new heir. They brought gifts and praised the couple. After them, many Riders and dragons went by, figures she had only heard of. And they were all genuinely happy she had come to this world. A lump appeared in her throat. She was moved.

"Look up to the sky, my queen." He brought them back to the present. "It's already the first day of spring. Today you are a hundred and fifty years old." Eragon said.

Arya looked up and, in the middle of the darkest skies, the first signs of light started to appear. Shy but strong between clouds, Aiedail showed itself. She gasped again. Completely oblivious to the time, she lost track of the days and forgot not only her birthday, but Eragon's too, the day before, the last day of winter. Arya sat upright, stiff.

"Barzûl! I'm sorry, Eragon! I forgot your birthday as well as mine."

He laughed.

"I realized you would. But I don't mind. I like that you're distracted by other matters." He had a malicious hint in his voice that made her cheeks blush.

Arya slapped his shoulder without any intension of hurting him, what caused him to laugh more.

Indeed, after she had become only a Rider, not more the Elven Queen, administrating Mount Arngor's business became a strenuous routine. So, whenever she was home, she would stay in, enjoying her mate's company, living out of poetry and art, tending the garden or gliding the calm skies on Fírnen's back, until pressing matters would make her rise to her responsibilities again.

"I have something for you." Eragon spoke, turning his head slightly so she could see his loving smile. "It's in the dresser. First drawer."

Arya hesitated, but got to her feet, placing the blanket around his back. She walked back inside and opened the drawer. There, she found a leather pouch, not bigger than her flat hand. She opened it, and from there a wooden sphere slid out. It was the size of a grapefruit. Arya spun the sphere around, but it was too dark inside the room for her to grasp all the details, even with her superior eyesight.

She walked outside, where she could use the first morning lights to appreciate her gift. Arya sat by Eragon's side, crossing her legs. His arm went around her shoulders to shelter her with his warmth.

Illuminated by the cold morning light, the sphere showed itself as a rounded map. It was carved where the rivers were represented and elevated where there were mountains. She recognized the cold north and the Beors, the West Ocean and the Eastern Lands. She recognized their mountain, their river. Their home.

"You see..." He pointed at where her eyes had stopped, "...this is us." She nodded. "This is how I see our world."

Arya smiled. His creative mind had no limits.

"A sphere?"

Eragon laughed lightly.

"Well, we know it's round. Why not a sphere? And have you noticed that not all of it is engraved?"

"I did. What is it?"

"I don't know. I was thinking we can try to figure it out someday. The both of us, Saphira and Fírnen. Can you imagine how many different things and people we can find around the Sphere?"

"Now that I'm finally home, you want to leave?"

Eragon seemed careless, easy going.

"My home is you and Saphira, and also Fírnen. I can go wherever with you that I'll still be home."

Arya was moved by his words. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and studied his face. How much she loved him! It wasn't common, a love like theirs. People talked of love, they even sung of it, but they didn't quite understand it. Their words sounded lacking when describing love.

His words, on the other hand, always managed to entice her, seduce her, capture her. His poems talked of her and to her, but they showed who Eragon truly was, and he was hers. And Arya was his. Undoubtedly.

"And you are mine. Always my home."

Eragon smiled and kissed her on the lips.

"Do you like your gift?"

Arya smiled and said with wonderment:

"I love it. You gave me the world."

He kissed her again.

"Happy birthday, my queen."

"Happy birthday, my love."