A/N: Hello! I am sorry for the delay. Between work and writing my own original story (which is almost done, if anyone wants to read a sneak peek just send me a dm!) Anyway, I am back -again- haha. So, in this chapter Arya meets Roran. This is kinda a spoiler, however the only reason WHY I am saying this here is because this fanfic has been going on since 2012- I checked previous chapters and could not find any instance of them meeting substantially. So, this chapter is treating them as if they had never met. In terms of continuity, consider this chapter above the previous ones. This is the first time these two characters have met, even if written otherwise in a past chapter somewhere. Thank you, and enjoy!
Arya sat within her tent, legs crossed with her eyes sharply sewn shut. She ignored the aches and pains that rattled her body, ignored the rage and fear that rolled within her mind.
How long has it been? How long have we been fighting?
Each day, the sealed increased their attacks and assaulted Arya's armies from all sides. Each day they lost more and more elves and men. It didn't matter what tactics Arya employed, or how many sealed she killed- their efforts were fruitless. The sealed hadn't even sent out the commanding Ra'zac and their Letherbalka- it seemed they were content to simply send horde after horde of starved and crazed sealed until their defenses were worn completely down.
But this thought bled to an even darker one that Arya did not want to admit.
What if they are waiting for something?
Arya's mind inadvertently drifted to her banished sister- the one she had never met, but knew only from the horrified recitations of what the Omshurtag Suheliel did to her own people. Alauinel had weakened the seal of the Tomb of Dorethelyam, releasing a portion of Gohlobhor's form to the world. At this point, Gohlobhor himself was still too weak to take physical shape, but . . .
What if her goal was not to bring him back to life? Arya thought suddenly. She jumped to her feet, twirling on her heels as voices called from outside her tent.
"Auresoma Arya Aufen Valbhorelthian!"
Arya recognized the voice as the captain of her guard, Feonir. She pushed aside the flaps of her tent and was met with the embrace of the midday sun and cool air. Feonir stood with one of his men, but between them, a long-haired human stood calmly. Light brown eyes stared into Arya's with unspoken confidence. He was stocky, shorter than Arya and her elves, but still exuded a decidedly uncanny presence. Wordlessly, Arya attempted to tap into the man's mind- only to feel her magic quite literally be swatted aside.
How.. Arya questioned as she struggled to maintain her composure. Feonir regarded her knowingly.
He must've tried the same. Whoever this human is . . . he is dangerous.
"Who is he?" Arya asked, in elvish.
"He stumbled out of the Xoshan woods. He.. he claims to be the brother of the Rider. He demanded to be taken to whoever was in command." Feonir answered.
Eragon.
Arya knew of Eragon's brother from stories he told of him during the days she had spent with the young rider. She knew that Eragon had said his brother died during an attack on their village.
So who is this being? Even if it is Eragon's brother, how did he get here?
"What is your name?" Arya asked, in the tongue of men. The human held his gaze calmly.
"My name is Roran Magebane. I was of the Varden, allied with House Pike of the North, before it fell to Morzan." Roran answered. Arya's eyes narrowed-
Magebane. The name is familiar, but I can't place it.
"That name does not sound like one typically found amongst members of your race." Arya said.
If Roran was offended by her comment, he did not show any indication of it.
"The name was given to me by Lord Pike." Roran turned his head to address Feonir.
"If you pull up the cloth on my right arm you will see why."
Arya's eyes widened as Feonir pulled Roran's sleeve up his arm, revealing ancient and almost wicked markings that seemed as if they were carved, not tattooed into his skin. The symbols themselves appeared to be almost elvish, but they did not link to a elven dialect that Arya could recognize.
"This brand prevents any and all magic from being cast upon me. I can also negate magic that is performed within close proximity to me." Roran answered. Arya's eyes vanished into critical slits.
"A useful skill. How is it you came to the domain of the Elves? The north fell to Morzan nearly a year ago." Arya's jaw tightened.
What does this mean? Why is this happening now?
Roran's calm demeanor shifted as anger slowly drew across his face. It seemed almost as if his rage traveled a further distance than he did to reach him.
"We were able to resist Galbatorix and reclaim much of the land conquered by his forces . . . it was then Morzan attacked us with his army. I fought him . . . and was bested. He left me for dead. I awoke to the charred corpses of my army and their rusted armor. I do not know how much time passed. I tried to locate my wife . . . the hold where she had been staying had been destroyed by Galbatorix. I searched for her for months to no avail. Finally, I made my way to your Kingdom."
Arya was not moved by Roran's story, and spared him no empathy as she continued her interrogation.
"Why did you not return to the Varden? Surely they could help. They may have even taken her in amongst any survivors." Arya said. Roran's lips parted into a cynical smile that turned into a grimace as he spoke.
"I was known as Roran Magebane to my men, House Pike, and their retainers. Outside of that small circle, even to the rest of the Varden, I am no one. Who would believe my story? And the brand I carry would no doubt cast suspicion upon me."
"And you believed that coming here would not?" Arya tested.
"I knew that I would be in danger traveling here. But you have my brother." Roran said.
There's only one way to find out the truth.
Arya shifted her eyes to Feonir.
"Send word to Islanzadi and Oromis." She instructed, in elvish. Feonir's proud stance faltered at her request, uncertainty momentarily crossing his face- but not fast enough to escape Arya's hawk-like gaze.
"What is it?" The queen demanded.
"Islanzadi and Oromis.. They have not yet returned with their regiments." Feonir reported.
No.
Arya swallowed the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Her hands curled into tight fists as she fought to bat away the feelings of hopelessness that assaulted her.
Alone.
"When were you planning on informing me?" Arya hissed. Feonir dropped his hold on Roran, and knelt.
"I take full responsibility, Auresame. We received notice of Islanzadi and Oromis' absence at the same time the human came to us. I had hoped that the two would return by the time you had dealt with this human . . ."
You're all alone.
Arya's vision began to blacken at the corners of her vision. A tightness gripped her chest, and nausea broiled within her bowels.
"No matter," Arya rasped as she struggled to remain standing. She could feel sweat began to pool on her brow.
"We do not have.."
Arya felt a sharp shock of pain that struck from the top of her head and ran all the way down her spine. She closed her eyes and fell to the ground. Her hears heard the sounds of her men as they came to her aid, but they did not understand the words spoken by them. She opened eyes wet with tears born from the pain to see nothing but a pair of brilliant blue eyes.
It will be a pleasure to finally meet you, Auresame Arya.
"Auresame Arya! Auresame Arya!"
Arya opened her eyes and rose lifted herself upwards, balancing herself on wobbly legs. Feonir stood beside her, as three elves held Roran, with a fourth pointing a blade at the human's neck.
"Release him," She commanded weakly. The elves complied without question.
"What happened?" Feonir asked.
Arya's stared ahead blankly.
I have been entrusted to protect my people. I cannot depend on Islanzadi and Oromis- I am queen.
"I am going to go see the Rider." Arya said. Feonir opened his mouth to protest, but said nothing.
"And you are coming with me, Roran."
Islanzadi's heart threatened to crash through the armor she wore. All around her, elves and men alike fell in death as arrows rained down upon her army.
"Move back! Retreat!" She screamed, sword raised above her head. But her words bore no heed. The attack had come too fast- too concentrated and too powerful to reorganize her soldiers. Raising a hand to the heavens, she wordlessly called upon the air to intercept the path of the arrows, halting them in midair.
Far from Gillendel and the main branch of their forces, Islanzadi had been patrolling the southern flanks- until now. From the ashes of the dead lands, the architect of such horrors marched, and behind her, the flags of the empire waved proudly.
Islanzadi heard the footfalls of her second in command, but did not turn to face the elf.
"The imperials have launched an attack upon Oromis' forces as well! A.. forsworn is among them." The elf reported breathlessly. Islanzadi ignored him, and instead gazed into the distance, where her daughter's army steadily approached.
So you have come.
"Take your remaining men and go to Oromis." Islanzadi commanded.
"Aure- Lady Islanzadi . . ."
"Do as I say." Islanzadi did not allow her gaze to leave the Imperial army as they dipped into the valley, hidden by a rising hill.
"Of course, my lady." Her commander bowed, and then hurriedly strode off. Islanzadi could hear him as he organized the survivors and attempted to form a semblance of a fighting force. However, they would not assist her here.
Islanzadi unclipped the flowing cape that hung from her shoulders, and an errant wind absconded with it before the formal dressing could even touch the dirt of the ground below. Long and pointed ears twitched at the sound of buzzing wings, and as that sound drew closer, she could hear the faint sound of laughter.
Mist took the land then, a thickening and blinding fog that was summoned nearly instantly. Islanzadi readied her blade with both hands gripping the hilt.
"Islanzadi,"
Islanzadi steadied her nerves at the sound of her daughter's voice.
"Do you remember me? Do you remember my name?" The voice asked. Islanzadi did not answer.
"I see. If you cannot remember my name, perhaps you will remember my face."
A golden flash of light raced towards Islanzadi. It moved so fast that she couldn't see the blow, but rather defended herself by instinct. Her knees buckled at the strength of the attack as her sword created sparks as it slid across that of the Forsworn's. Inches away from her attacker's face, she could do nothing but stare into those hollow and cruel blue eyes that had once belonged to a daughter, long lost.