I am so terribly sorry for taking so long to update. I was sick a couple of weeks ago, and while I started the first part of this chapter then, I took a mini-break from writing, but hopefully, I will now be able to update more frequently! Let me quit rambling, here's the chapter!

The breeze lightly brushed his long brown hair out of his face as he watched the sunset on the lake near his home. His parents had been arguing again, mainly about what he wanted to do, and he hated both himself and them for it. Not really, he thought with a chuckle, he was just agitated with his mother, but he still loved her.

She wanted him to help with the politics of Ellesmera, train him into the perfect politician, the perfect heir to the elven throne. And while he had some interest in the politics of his homeland, he had no interest to rule. He would rather be out with his father, or his friends, seeking an adventure or help his people, rather than rule them. And while that didn't bother his mother when he was younger, she now had higher expectations for him.

The war across Alagaësia demanded the elves' involvement and while he didn't like his father leaving him to go and fight, he was proud of his father. He had always been there for him. He didn't dislike his mother, quite the contrary, but he felt, with his age, he was more close to his father.

A shadow came across the young elf's eyes, and when he opened them he came across the sight of both of his parents, each looking down at him with mirth in their eyes. His mother had long, silky black hair that seemed to shine in the sunlight, but had his cerulean blue eyes. His father had once told him that they were his favorite color, and he loved them himself. His father, however, had a pair of sea-foam green eyes, that wasn't quite an emerald color, more of a grass color, and his signature shaggy brown hair, that he had inherited from him. They were both taller than most of the other elves, and both were trained warriors, but his mother's tongue was sharper than most, and his father's skill with a blade was almost unparalleled. But he loved them more than anything else in the world, despite what hurtful words he might have said when he was particularly angry with a rule they had set. They were the world to him.

This argument hadn't been a particularly terrible one, unlike the one about Osilion, but words were said between the pair that he wished he never had said. The young elf made to get up and apologize, but it was his mother who spoke first, interrupting him with a wave of her hand.

"I need to apologize, Eragon. I have a hard time seeing you as the able-bodied elf that you are instead of the little boy who was hiding behind my skirts, afraid of the world and its inhabitants. You are your own man, now, and I love you so much, so much." AT this, his mother embraced him and Eragon found himself returning it with a bruising grip, his eyes watering with a few tears. His father smiled from where he was and Eragon closed his eyes in content.

A sweaty, heavy breathing Eragon shot up from his memory, the bed he had been sleeping in creaking from the sudden movement. He hadn't had a nightmare about his parents in a long time, and he both cherished and hated that memory. That was the last time he had seen his father, for later that night he left Ellesmera to head to what was now Uru'bean, but was once known as Illirea before Galbatorix took control. But he hated that memory, or more he hated how he had behaved when he was younger. He was a rebellious, uncaring, selfish child who had only his interests in his own heart, but after his father died, his entire life practically revolved around his mother and her duties. She had not handled his death well, being in a catatonic state for a few years after Evandar's death, and Eragon was there the entire time, caring for her and keeping Ellesmera and the elves as a hole together. His mother became queen after that, and it wasn't for years later when she had gotten closure and recovered from her mate's death, did she give her blessing for Eragon to become the elven ambassador.

Eragon, to almost everyone's surprise, did not initially take the position, for he wanted to stay and help his mother. But she knew him better than most, and after years of pestering and pleading, he took up the role. With it, he left Ellesmera where he went to the newly formed Varden, gaining allies there as well as a few enemies. At the Varden, accompanied by his guards, Eragon would meet a long-time friend of his, Brom, the founder of the Varden. The two would go on to lead many of the strikes against the Varden, including helping the man find the stolen egg, and helped him kill Morzan. Eragon was one of the few that the man had opened up too, excluding a few friends, but when Brom went missing after the events of Uru'bean and the egg, which went into his possession after Brom stole it back, Eragon took solace in his work, having only his guards and Jeod as a company in the Varden. Then, for near 20 years, he carried the egg around the whole of Alagaësia, in secret, trying to get it to hatch, so that they had a hope fighting Galbatorix.

The door whipping open, subsequently hitting the stone door, broke the elf out of his thoughts, and when a pair of guards entered, Eragon was surprised.

Perhaps Durza was busy.

Not getting his hopes up, and keeping his emotionless mask on his face, he was surprised when the guards lifted him from his bed and started dragging him towards what must have been the main room, where Durza sat atop a chair, with his silver sword laying on his lap.

"You're lucky, Elf," WIth this Durza seemed to almost giggle with glee "Your torture sessions have ended. The king is coming here to see you personally."

Arya supposed that she should feel bad for her uncle's demise. Or something. But sympathy for her cousin and a desire for revenge for him, with no compassion for he, now murdered uncle, slightly worried her.

Brom, who left both Arya and Firnen in the grotto, went into town to gather supplies. The old man was more than a simple storyteller, for the way he fought and how he reacted to the Ra'Zac was not the reaction an ordinary man would have had. He defended himself with ease and, not that she looked back on it, had a sword that was infamous for murder, and would have been very expensive. Any normal man would have sold it, and she didn't believe when he simply kept it for its rarity or its background. It didn't make sense.

Arya found that Brom as a whole didn't make sense.

Firnen agreed with her for the most part but wanted her to stay with the man. Both for his seemingly abundant wealth of knowledge and the fact that he seemed to be their best way for survival. That or be caught by the empire, which was also a possibility traveling with Brom. But, it was better than doing nothing or hiding in the spine.

She also felt no remorse for killing the Ra'Zac, and loved the adrenaline rush that came with fighting, she could tell why people sought fights. Looking down from the treeline, Arya unsheathed Zar'roc and admired the ruby red blade, that was still caked in blood from their previous encounter. It was a beautiful blade, Arya thought to herself. It was also much finer than the blade she had received from Brom, both in the material it was made out of and the feel of the blade. It was very light in her hands, and Arya found that she could easily use the weapon.

The crunching of leaves broke Arya out of her stare, and she was ready to pounce on any unwanted persons, but relaxed when it was Brom, with his arms filled with bags and other equipment.

"Well, now we are almost out of coin, but I managed to get everything we need..." Brom then grabbed some of the leather, cut it, and organized it, muttering to himself. Arya went to investigate what he bought and was surprised at what she saw. The bags were filled with several items, including books, rope, a pair of bedrolls, and more leather. After checking out the rest of the bag, Arya turned back to Brom and was beyond shocked when she saw that Brom had made a leather saddle, with belt buckles and appropriate protection so that she could ride Firnen. From their bond, she was easily able to make out the excitement that was rolling out in waves from Firnen. He seemed to be restless with both the urge to fly and the opportunity that was them flying together.

Brom lifted the sack, making Arya jump slightly at the sudden movement, and was having to briskly walk next to the man to keep up with him.

The trio then left Carvahall, with Arya leaving a note for her cousin when he undoubtedly returned, as well as leaving what of his possessions she salvaged from the house, with Katrina. Brom cleaned out most of his house, leaving the bulk of his papers, but grabbed his swords and his staff, as well as a series of odd trinkets that Arya had no clue to what they were or what they did, but didn't ask. Arya and Firnen were both ecstatic and anxious to leave Carvahall, but she hardened her resolve and left with Brom.

They went south first, trekking through whatever game trails they could, and near the end of the first day of their travels, Arya was able to fly with Firnen.

Brom, how had overseen the flying, had to help her a few times, but when they managed to fly in the air, they never wanted to leave.

"God it's so beautiful up here…" Arya was awestruck by the view, for she could see for leagues without any obstructions. Able to see the spine as well as parts of Carvahall, and she felt free for the first time in this world.

This is what we were destined for, Little One. Firnen's deep voice reverberated throughout her head and she couldn't help but agree. And with that, their adventure just began.

Thank you for reading, please rate and review, follow and favorite, whatever you need to do, and again, thank you so much for reading!

-xkid11