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Here comes the 30th chapter of the story! The end is coming soon, but not Today !
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Hours later, Eragon was still pondering what had happened. Even the boisterous crowd surrounding him could not stop him from overthinking the latest events.
"What's troubling you little one?" asked Saphira "Shouldn't you enjoy the feast? The dead have been buried and the living don't have to crawl in fear. There's enough reason to celebrate the end of the wrongness created by the Alfake".
"It's not as simple Saphira"
"Of course, it's not. But will you be able to change anything by thinking too much over it?" retaliated the blue dragon.
"Of course not! But why did it happen? It shouldn't have been possible,"
"You're thinking too much on this Eragon. You're still thinking about whether events are possible or not. Dragons don't follow rules, we make them" she answered calmly. Her tone was even, without any hint of smugness in it because she knew what she was talking about and knew she was right.
"I'm trying to understand what you've done. It's incredible but goes against all we've studied. Is that wrong of me?" grumbled Eragon
Surprisingly, it was Glaedr who answered, with some mirth in his voice
"You remind me of Oromis studying your own case. Many of your actions couldn't be explained and it frustrated him to no end during long hours," replied with a hint of amusement the golden dragon, lost in his memories.
"Really, I never saw it" replied Eragon, surprised by his mentor's confession.
"Of course not. No matter what, Oromis was an elf and a rider and one of the Elder. It took a lot to get past his expression. And he learnt most of it while you weren't present in Du Weldenvaden and by the time you would reach us, most of his interrogation would be hidden behind a perfectly crafted curious mask."
"What kind of events made him so surprised then?" enquired Eragon, his curiosity pressed.
"I can tell you he was surprised the egg hatched for the one person who found it after Arya send it. Or even that you were to one to receive it. Or that you and Murthag were the sons of his last students, that both had the same mother or that it was your father that killed Murtagh's. Even the name of Saphira surprised him. Your last transformation at du Agaeti Sangrem was probably the last major surprise. Magic and dragons don't always mix well with elven logic," concluded the dragon with a note of finality.
And Eragon started to understand the scale of the troubles and questioning that he had given to his old master in the middle of the war against Galbatorix.
Turning his head, he saw that Daenerys was just as thoughtful, her hands covered by gloves, hiding the last gift of the dragons.
When she had touched Rhaegal, she had somehow established a connection with her dragons. She had been blessed by the dragons, both alive and gone. And she now bore her own Gedwey Ignesia on her right hand.
When the flames had died minutes later, he wasn't sure on what he would see. Of course, he had known Daenerys wouldn't be dead since he had been able to keep track of her mind during the whole process. But nothing could have prepared him for the outcome.
She had been standing in the middle of the ashes, her gaze lost in the sky. Yet Eragon had immediately noticed the light glow on her right hand. A glow he was all too familiar with. After all, every time Eragon cast a spell without gloves on, he could see it. Saphira's first gift to him and also present on the hand of Arya and Murthag. However, while he was intimately familiar with the glow, he wasn't with the stencil on her hand. Instead of the Gedwey he bore, like all the previous Riders, Daenerys had a different symbol. A symbol he had seen a lot these past months on shields, boats or events or castles: the Targaryen sigil, with three roaring dragons.
He had found her in the middle of the ashes, with streaks of dried tears on her face but no one could miss the feeling of acceptance and peace. Rhaegal was gone, burnt into nothingness by the three dragons, gone in a last flight but forever present on her hand and mind.
So far, only Eragon and the elves had seen it. One of them had immediately offered gloves along with a cloak to hide the glow until Daenerys managed to find something more fitting.
And once more, he understood the true scale of the headaches he must have given to Brom and Oromis. This was completely unexpected. The presence of dragons here had been a surprise. Drogon and Viserion becoming part of Saphira's pack had complicated even more their travel here but somehow, they had adapted and managed to overcome each of these hurdles while preparing for the future.
But the Gedwey Ignesia on Daenerys's hand was crashing all the plans he had tried to build with the elves and the Eldunaris for the Cast. Because, whether he liked it or not, Daenerys had somehow become a Rider and there was no way he would let her go without some training. Too much was at stake here. He had immediately noticed the bond between her and her two remaining dragons strengthening. This was entirely different.
They had once more entered a grey area, something unexplored before. A rider bonding with two dragons years after their hatching. A Rider who didn't fear fire, and a rider born in a family with the most impressive legacy with dragons. He felt a new headache coming as he pondered this information.
Nevertheless, in between all these daunting tasks waiting for him, there were still some mundane activities to complete, just like now. Indeed, they had been expected to attend the feast occurring in the Great Hall, especially since Eragon was at the centre of all the attention and the discussions. He was the one who had given the final blow and brought an end to the Great War, or du fyrn svell as the Eldunaris called it. Already, people were calling him King Killer in Alagaësia and King Slayer in Westeros.
"And Queen lover in Ellesméra" teased Saphira.
Eragon laughed softly. He still missed deeply Arya but he had learnt to accept the distance separating them. He had called her thrice while on Westeros to talk about the dragons, the war against the Army of the Dead or to have some news on the reconstruction of Alagaësia. After learning about the Army of the Dead, she had wanted to come, perhaps with Murthag but Eragon had dissuaded her. She had responsibilities to fulfil and, most importantly, he wasn't sure she would be on time to fight the Army.
Reluctantly, and after talking to Rhunön -the longest discussion she had ever had with the smith according to her - she had understood Eragon's reasons. She wasn't happy, far from it, but there was understanding. He was also happy to notice that each discussion was less awkward than the previous one.
But back in the Great Hall, he allowed himself to relax a bit. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any surprises for at least a few days. In the meantime, he would enjoy the feast. Saphira was grumbling since they hadn't been able to find a decent amount of wine for her and the prey she had caught hadn't been tasty. "Full of fiber" had been her comment.
She had then decided to take a nap, having found no real reason to stay awake while the Westerosi partook in their feast.
The night was spent in a blur of activities. He remembered the loud discussions around him, the toast initiated by Tormund which ended up with Eragon giving a small speech, the different exchanges with different lords and the occasional glances he would send to Daenerys. She too was caught in many polite discussions but he often saw her left hand absently rubbing the place where he knew her Gedwey was.
Tyrion had been with her at the start but the prospect of a long night full of drinks had driven him away and he had seen him close to Tormund in the late hours of the night, surrounded by empty buckets of ale.
At some point, both he and Daenerys had gone outside to get some fresh air. A few people were also out but they gave him enough place to avoid being overheard. The cold air outside felt good against their skin after having spent long hours in the overcrowded room.
They were silent for a few moments, enjoying the quietness of the night. It was such a contrast from the situation they were in just before.
"How do you feel?" enquired Eragon, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two.
Daenerys remained silent for a moment, probably trying to put into words what she was feeling;
"So different. Their presence … It's something else" answered Daenerys. She had a pensive look on her face. She was looking in the direction where Eragon knew the dragons had decided to sleep and he knew that she may not be consciously aware of her actions yet.
They talked softly, enjoying the night knowing there wasn't a dangerous enemy lurking behind the thick walls of Winterfell. He found himself smiling, sharing some innocent anecdotes about the first days of his own bond with Saphira. But soon, they had to get back inside the loud hall. Daenerys went in first and took the direction of the lord's table. Eragon gave her a few minutes before following her steps.
He appreciated these few moments on his own. He looked up to watch the sky. The stars were different here than in his home. He didn't recognise them but he found some peace watching them. It brought him back to his adventure in Vroengard, where Saphira went higher than she had ever been. The view at this altitude had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It dawned on him how little they had explored the world surrounding them. They had travelled for a few months and they had already found a whole country that everyone had forgotten about except for a few elders. Who knew what else was behind the sea or above the clouds?
"Once the Cast is set, we will explore this world little one" called Saphira, her voice an ocean of assurance.
"We will" promised Eragon softly.
And he went back to the room, leaving the cold night to enter the warmth of the loud great hall.
Walking silently on the snow that had fallen the past hours, Eragon took a time to ponder his next move. He was in a rather delicate position.
Bran's death and last gift, if you could call it a gift, had left Eragon with some dangerous knowledge. During the past days, he had taken the time to have a look at them, with the help of Saphira and the Eldunaris.
He had learnt a lot about Westeros' past, more than he could have learnt with the Maesters, the scrolls and books found in the libraries of the several castles he had visited and would visit. But some knowledge had been more unsettling, a knowledge that held a lot of political power. And finally, in between this mix of memories, he had learnt about Jon's heritage. He had finally understood the truth behind Bran's aunt's death and the origin of the Rebellion which shaped the last decades of Westeros.
This had led Eragon to a precarious situation, with information that could change the course of Westeros, just like the knowledge of his parentage had been at some point for Alagaësia. And he knew he couldn't completely foresee the consequences of these revelations since he had had only an inkling of the politics in place and the alliance which were in place.
And just like with each important decision, he had heard Saphira's advice and they had talked about it in depth. And for once, their decision had been easy to take, logical even but not easy.
It was their decision that brought him where he currently stood, close to Winterfell's Weirwood, where he had slain the Night King a few days ago. Most importantly, he knew this was where Jon would be. The atmosphere was drastically different from what he had experienced before. The forest was more welcoming. The chains which had held it for so long were gone, forever. But the snow was still here, gently cracking under his feet.
Closing the last gap, he made his presence known by walking more forcefully on the snow than what was necessary for him. Alerted by the noise, Jon quickly turned around, his hand already on the pommel of his sword, only to relax when he noticed that it was Eragon who had broken the peace surrounding the forest.
Saphira wasn't there, having decided to remain with Drogon and Viserion who were still mourning the loss of their brother. Dragons weren't idle creatures, Eragon had long learnt it. His partner of mind and soul was currently flying in the cold northern skies with Daenerys' It was a way for them to dim for a few hours the loss of Rhaegal. They were also learning along the way the best way to fly through such winds. This time around, Daenerys had decided to follow her two dragons.
In the forest, Eragon silently closed the gap and went to sit next to Jon on the rocks close to the Weirwood. This was also the place where Bran had died and he could see a flicker of pain in Jon's eyes.
But it was the Northerner who broke the silence first.
"What brings you here Eragon? Or should I say King Slayer now?" he asked with the corners of his lips turning slightly upwards.
Eragon groaned about this new nickname but didn't dispute his comment.
"How are you, Jon?" enquired Eragon
"Good, I guess? I mean no. It's all fuzzy. We've slain the Army of the dead, we faced this enemy, a foe thought mythical only a few months ago, and I think we owe a big part of this victory to you. But I'm angry and saddened by all the losses our family had to go through. Lord Stark, Lady Stark, Robb, Rickon and now Bran. Many of my friends at the Wall, killed too. And what am I supposed to do now? The Wall is destroyed and even then, its purpose is void now. Even if the Wildlings are still resented in Westeros, they should be allowed to roam free."
Eragon stood silent, only too familiar with what Jon was describing. It was the bittersweet taste of victory.
"You will find a path, a choice will be presented, I do not doubt it. It might be here in Winterfell, South at King's Landing or North, at the Wall or even above. But I have little doubt you won't find a purpose. And in the meantime, take some time for yourself. From what you've told me, you've had little rest in the past years" answered Eragon.
Jon was silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts.
"As of today, you are right. But tomorrow is just as dark. "
"Each step at a time and the future might be just a tad brighter"
"Probably. But you haven't come here to offer sound advice about the war. Nor are you here to coax me into a choice. So why are you here then?" asked Jon.
Eragon should have guessed Jon would want to go straight to the point. His tone wasn't accusatory. It was even. His grey eyes didn't bear any anger, but they were seeking truth.
"You are right." He paused, thinking about the best words to use. "During the battle, something happened with the Night King and Bran. Something I can't yet explain, and I'm still processing. Several confusing pieces of information were given. Everything is a bit unclear. It felt like Bran was trying to share. But there was a clear message in there, something related to you and most precisely about you your parentage," started Eragon. He didn't want to explain he had learnt a lot of the history of Westeros with the death of Jon's brother, or rather Jon's cousin, along with snapshots of most of Westeros' past and even sometimes future.
Jon didn't talk, only looked straight at Eragon. The latter didn't falter and started explaining what he had understood, going from Lyanna's marriage and pregnancy, Eddard's Stark choice to Jon's upbringing.
As he talked, he could feel Jon closing up, his eyes fixing a single point behind Eragon and not moving from it.
After a few moments, Eragon was done describing the situation and what he had understood to Jon. A heavy silence fell between the two men. For a short moment, nothing broke the quietness of the forest. Above, a free bird chirped. Finally, it was Jon who talked first.
"Thank you" whispered Jon, his voice completely neutral. Eragon was impressed by the control he kept. Having gone through a similar predicament not so long ago, he knew from experience how difficult and lost Jon probably felt. And yet, he knew there was something he had to add.
"You should tell Daenerys, "Added Eragon
Surprisingly, those words were the ones which had gotten him the most reaction from Jon.
"Have you told her?" he asked with some steel in his voice.
"This is not my decision to make. But I would do it if I were you," answered truthfully Eragon without batting a sweat.
"And why is that?" he called back with the same steel. He was getting defensive and Eragon understood he had probably rushed his proposition and hadn't given enough time to Jon.
"Because this is the crux of the matter. Daenerys is your family, and we both know she feels alone and believes to be the last one of a hated family. Both of you had a lonely childhood for different reasons. You were the supposed bastard of Ned Stark, a man known for his integrity while she was the daughter of the Mad King, one of the most hated men in the country, and man she never met. «he explained before continuing "Nevertheless, this is your decision to make, yours to accept and share if you want to. It didn't feel right for me to know this and to keep it from you. There might be political consequences but honestly, I don't care about it, I just didn't like the idea to let someone live with a lie surrounding his origins."
He noticed understanding, and comprehension slowly dawning on his face, but Jon decided to remain silent.
Having said his piece, Eragon silently left and let his mind wander to a world where dragons would be able to live freely and where politics would be dealt with by them. For a short moment, he imagined a world governed by Saphira and couldn't escape the laugh that left his lips.
"Bring me more of that wine Tyrion is carrying around, and I'll rule over all the matter of this cold place," answered Saphira lazily. He almost felt her yawning as if it was his own.
"And you wouldn't need me? "teased Eragon
"I guess I'd need you from time to time, to help me with my scales or wool stuck between my teeth. No one else would do it" answered Saphira, with mirth in her voice
This time, Eragon showed no restraint and allowed himself to laugh at his own expense.
This is the end of the chapter! I hope you've enjoyed it! Please, don't hesitate to comment, review, fav, this gives me a lot of motivation to keep this story and update quickly !