I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
Edited 1/30/22

Please let me know your thoughts throughout the story, I'd love to hear for you :)

Enjoy,


Leave-Taking

Rose spent the following days sore with a seemingly never-ending ache that worsened with each movement. She hadn't been certain what to anticipate when she agreed to follow Brom. What she did not expect was for him to lead her to the training grounds and put her through her paces with both the sword and hand-to-hand combat. Brom had trained with her before, yes this was true, however this time seemed to Rose wholly and completely different. It felt to her as Brom was seeking for more than a simple sparing match, to her it seemed as if he were searching for something but what, she did not know.

When they both arrived to the training fields it seemed bursting with activities; men trotted from one side of the field to the other, whether it was arms filled with crates, loose pieces of armor or shovels or weapons, though a few could be seen training with each other or running laps at the edge of the cavern. Brom had said nothing as he made his way to the middle of the arena where wooden barrows of water often rested and began to drag it away to an isolated corner where he turned to Rose and gruffly commanded her to 'help him with this'.

After the water had completely emptied onto the ground, they trained with blades that were unshielded from wards, as Tornac had taught her. She was reminded of a time not so long ago when she stood across from the man questioning the bare blades. It felt like an age, a wholly different time from a person she did not quite recognize. Rose, however, did not question Brom and the lack of the charm, feeling rather eager to spar without it for a rare change.

It was there on that muddy field that she spent a gruelingly long evening learning how the former Rider had survived as long as he had after the Fall. She had known that Brom was a formable warrior, and had sparred with him a few times before, yet something within her now told her that he had been holding back his true skill. That same something seemed convinced that this time, he would not do so, and indeed Rose found herself harder pressed than she had in the past.

His aged appearance was deceiving, she decided, and it seemed likely to her that it was done so on purpose; to make one underestimate just how skilled the man truly was. Rose wondered what Brom would look like without the elderly guise he seemed content to keep; would he have a strong jawline and scleft chin as Eragon had? Would he stand straight as a warrior often did, instead of hunched over? And was his hair as heavily lined with silver naturally or was it merely a rouse?

Even as Brom tossed her unceremoniously into the muck behind him, her sword having ended up in his hand, she couldn't help but wonder if, maybe just if, he had forgotten long ago who he truly was without faux identities.

Rose forced herself out the mud, brushing if off of her clothing as best as she could and turned to the man. The filth stubbornly remained stuck to her, and she was certain that it covered nearly surface of her body. Perhaps, she would be unlucky and it would never wash off.

The man raised an eyebrow at her in a silent question. "You're enjoying this far too much," Rose accused him quietly, pulling her hair from the back of her neck. It was heavy enough wet but with the mud it was almost unbearably so, and was pulling at her scalp.

"You willing to go again?" He said ignoring her accusation. His beard couldn't completely hide the smile that played on his lips. When she hesitated answering him, Brom said, "Ignore them. If there was no one but the two of us, would you be willing to go again?"

Rose hadn't realized that she was eying the men that had gathered around them in a loose circle. The soldiers and had much better things to be focusing on, and though most of them watched for a short time before pulling away to whatever task they had, a few lingered to watch them.

Her name was called, and she started as if pulled from a trance. Rose glanced at Brom her eyes settling on him and then she slowly nodded. "Yes," she said slowly. "Yes, I would be willing."

"Let's go again," said Brom, returning her sword to her. His footsteps were balanced on the slick ground, as if he were gliding over even land. "Pretend they aren't here. They're trees, nosey ones who have better things to do." He said the last part loud enough to carry over the grouping and most of men scuffled their feet and left without a word as if they were thoroughly rebuked.

After Rose nodded, Brom continued as he had before. By the end, Rose had resisted being disarmed, and even disarmed Brom before he sidestepped and surprising her, dumped her to the ground retaking his blade for the final time. He stood over her, reminded her that if the fight were real, she'd be dead but he seemed satisfied as he helped her to her feet.

"You defend yourself better without the blade wards," Brom told her as they stepped away from the field. "I wasn't holding back on you either, as I might have done otherwise. Your mentor, Tornac, he taught you well. I might not have known him but I have the feeling that were he here now, he would be proud of how you've progressed."

Rose breathed in sharply, as if pained, and looked away. Her eyes focused on the ancient chisel markings of the wall and even as they began to burn, threatening tears, she kept her focus. Her nose itched her, and she resisted the urge to rub it. Once the feeling settled, she glanced at the man but said nothing.

Brom, as if sensing the shift in her, inquired, "Who taught you to guard your mind?"

"One of the tutors Tornac hired," she said softly. "I cannot remember the details nor his name but I remember he taught me enough that I could defend my mind against most attacks."

Brom nodded solemnly. "When?" was all he asked.

Rose frowned as she recalled Tornac sitting himself beside the hearth, as he had many times, to tell her once again that her life was in danger and what she was about to learn. How long ago had that happened? "I believe that I was coming to my ninth nameday," she said, "Tornac had believed that it was time for me to learn basic defense. He taught me what was appropriate at the time and what he could not teach me, he hired another. If he hadn't done so, I would have been killed within that year or the years following."

Now as her mind was on the man, she began to recall the way that he would sit; how his smile was twisted strangely from his scar so that it never reached his scarred eye; and the way that he laughed deep and warmly, and how it would always put her at ease; how he always had a grip on his sword when she was beside him as a child, as if he were preparing for danger; the hard flash in his eyes when he was angry. Her memories of him seemed so insignificant and she wondered how much she had forgotten. What she could recall seemed to pale the liveliness of the man who been a centerpiece in her life throughout the years.

Her chest felt hollowed out, as if someone had carved out a piece of her sometime ago and even now it remained missing, and she stopped for a moment as her breathes were cut short. It felt for a long torturous moment as if she could not get enough air to breath. Whether or not Brom had noticed her reaction, Rose knew not. He kept his back to her, his steps steady and unfaltering, and watching him, she was able to walk again.

In a way, Brom reminded her of Tornac, not in his words or his attitude but there seemed to her a strength within the two men as if they had been made from the same cloth. Perhaps, beneath the years of lies and hiding from the King there was a mark of the former Rider; a man who once stood proudly beside a dragon prepared to fight off whatever danger fate might bring. Perhaps, after all these years, that mark was nothing more than a scar, faint but still there, despite the gathering dark, it yet still it remained bright and bold. It marked the time he had endured while many others forfeited that light.

She did not have long to think about this as they soon came the bathhouse. There Selena stood with two clothe bags at her feet. Her hair was dripping from a recent wash, and her clothes looked clean. She smiled softly though it did not meet her eyes. As they approached, the woman picked up the largest bag and idly handed it to Rose. "I never got an answer to what you needed, so I took a hazard guess. I hope that I wasn't too far off," said she, and then the woman handing Brom the other satchel. This one much lighter. "It should be enough to get you through the trip you're about to make regardless, and should you need anything else, let one of us know by noon tomorrow. We might not be able to acquire it but there's a small possibility that we will."

Selena gave Rose one last brief very soft smile, before her eyes settled on Brom. They seemed to have a brief, wordless conversation before the woman turned and walked away, and Brom disappeared into the bathing house leaving Rose standing alone in the passageway.

Rose could feel the exhaustion of the day settle heavily into her bones and, holding the bag away from her so it wouldn't get mud on it, she stepped into the bathing room. No one was in there, thank the gods, but regardless she washed quickly before dressing hastily in the first clean garments she touched without truly looking at them. She stepped out of the room, and hurriedly made her way to where Thorn stood near the gates.

The dragon nudged her slightly as she struggled to scramble upon him, and though they relayed no words they seemed to come to an agreement of what the remainder of that evening would contain, which would be nothing more than a long-needed rest. Thorn thumped his tail once upon the ground before taking off and when he landed, Rose slid off of him, stumbling to her bed and falling almost instantly asleep.

When Rose awoke it was sometime within the darkest hours of the night. For a time, she lay, unmoving, willing herself to return to her dreams, though she had no memory of them. When, at last, she came to the conclusion that she was awake, she thought over the events of the previous day.

A part of her, and a large part, couldn't help but wonder over her choices. Rose had known from the moment she realized that she was a Dragon Rider what she would have to learn to wield magic. She was just not willing to admit it to herself nor did she want to admit it because she knew that the moment she did, she would no longer have an excuse. And even though she had given her word, Rose did not wish to learn but her life was full of doing things she did not wish to do. Already she was a Dragon Rider, as a child that had been her greatest fear. Of course, that child she had believed that Cordelia was secretly the boogie beast and only her knitted blanket could keep her safe from the woman, and that if she touched a toad she'd get a wart; among many other ridiculous ideas.

Rose remembered something, then, said to her so long ago that she could not remember when she had heard it or where; 'there is no shame in not knowing something, the shame comes from the unwillingness to learn.' It sounded like something Tornac might have said when she began learning to play her viol though she wasn't entirely certain.

She had learned to long for her instrument after many months of denying vocally, many times over, that she cared for it at all. It was a passion that had transcended years. And then she broke her viol. It was an accident, of course, however she never forgave herself for be so careless.

Rose peered at her fingers, barely seeing them in the darkness; slightly crooked from the way she held the bow for hours at end or perhaps they had always been that way. She could not remember. Sighing, she pulled her blanket closer to her and curled onto her side.

The Ancient Language and magic were not the same thing as playing an instrument. In her mind they were to vastly different subjects that lay many a mile apart. Brom may have said that he would not force to her learn but she knew that at point she would have to learn, and now voiced her willingness to do so. She knew now that the time to learn was nearly upon her.

Some of these thoughts were new to her, but the majority of them were rather puerile, and she knew this. Her fingers trailed over the scar on her left hand, the skin was smooth to the touch. She had seen the same scar on Eragon, and knew that it marked her as a Dragon Rider, rather then it being from her battle with briars, as she had originally thought.

It was the thought of the time she spent in the woodlands that finally chased her from the safety of her covers, and she stood, her bare feet smarting as they touched the cold stone. Rose glanced at Thorn, her mind softly touching his and finding that he was fast asleep, she exited the small cavern they were nested in.

The silence that night felt heavy, and she picked up the lit lantern left at the entrance and crept towards the tunnels Eragon had told her about. She no longer wished to think, and so she walked barefoot under a narrow stone passage and after hesitating just a moment before ducking into the maze of caverns. Rose walked slowly for what seemed like an age, dragging the tips of her fingers along the smooth walls, vanishing at times into a gap where an aged door stood, soft with time. Soon passages tunneled off from the main artery leading up and down and through the rock. Shadows leapt out at every corner, dancing in lantern light.

It felt old here, immeasurably old. She knew that if she traveled long enough she would become lost, and time would become meaningless. And, so she made herself turn around and return to the dragon hold and lay in bed. She forced herself to promise not to return to those caverns. Not because the dark halls frightened her- she had little reservations exploring dark halls, abandoned chambers, and whatever else might lay long forgotten- but rather because the place hindered it. Standing beside that oldness, she had felt a foreboding against light and laughter. Caverns filled with halls were not meant for people to live in, she thought as she fell asleep.

The next time Rose woke it was morning, and Thorn was seen at the entrance of the cave blocking the entry. Voices drifted lazily towards her and at first, she didn't realize what she was hearing. When she found that did not recognize one of the voices, she reached her mind out Thorn. As his mind welcomed her, Rose dug through her bag before her hands fell on a cloak that she had noticed the night before.

Thorn, do you know who is here? she asked, snapping the clasp shut. I don't recognize their voice.

The dragon huffed loudly. A female two-legged, was all he said.

Very helpful, said Rose, shoving her feet into her boots. Do we know her?

No, but she is talking with Eragon. Perhaps he does.

Rose nodded, and stepped around him. As Thorn had warned her, there was a woman standing talking to Eragon, a leather-bound book rested in her hands. The woman was long and lean, each of her features perfectly formed and smooth. Her loose red dress contrasted with her dark skin tone, and a thick brocaded sash covered much of her waist where a bag rested against her hip. An ivory and gold bracelet glimmered around her wrist, and her feet were covered with thin cloth slipshoes. Her hair was unbound and undecorated, and fell in dark mossy curls down her back.

As Rose make her way to them, the woman turned toward her and she saw the hint of a knife hidden beneath the woman's thick belt- she studied it, weighing its threat.

"You must be Rose," the woman said. "Ailis has told me much about you."

Rose gave the woman a tight smile before her eyes flickered towards Eragon. He would not meet her gaze. "I am. I don't believe I've had the pleasure meeting you before."

"We've seen each other in passing," she said in a steady voice. "I am Nasuada."

"Nasuada is Ajihad's daughter," Eragon pipped, shifting his feet. "She just came up here to deliver a message."

Rose hadn't been aware that the Varden leader had family of any kind but she supposed that it made sense. She nodded. "It's pleasure to meet you then" she said, and then glanced closer at the book. "Are you reading Mannix's Sojourn?"

Nasuada smiled truly for the first time. "Yes, I am. Not many know about Mannix nonetheless read his work. Have you read it?" she asked, offering the book to her.

"No, I have only heard of the tale," Rose replied, and taking the book, she looked over it. "I've only seen one copy of Mannix's work, and much of it was far too faded to read much."

"You shan't find that issue in Tronjheim. There are many copies," she said. "If you haven't read Mannix's Sojourn I suggest that you would read The Cognizant first once the opportunity offers itself."

"I will keep that in mind." Rose glanced at the bag at her hip, it too was filled with books. Returning the book to the woman, she said in light voice, "I suppose you're reading a thesaurus."

Nasuada grinned, and bent down to pick up the books and scroll beneath her skirts. "No, I'm not reading anything that remarkable," she said, pressing the pages to her chest. "I was planning to read about different war tactics throughout history. It fascinates me, how people fight and win a war against the odds. Not many people understand it though, they think it's an impropriate matter for women to read."

"Many of those people have eccentric ideals. They needn't pass them on to what one reads. That is one of the subjects that ought to be left untainted," Rose said. "I pray that you don't plan on reading it all tonight."

Nasuada grinned but shook her head. "I won't have the time but I may another night," she said. "My father mentioned to me that your heading much of the evacuation once we leave here. I want to do what I can to help, should you have me."

This was news to Rose however she masked her reaction. It was like being back at the courts within the capital. "I don't know what I'll need at this moment, though I'm certain if I need anything at a later time that it shan't be terribly exciting," said Rose.

Nasuada nodded, and turning to Eragon, she said, "It was a pleasure to meet both of you but I am afraid I must go." Suddenly, she grabbed Rose's hand and squeezed it. Her fingers were surprisingly calloused- in all the spots where the hilt of a sword or dagger might rest. Rose met her dark eyes and she dropped her hand. With a quick, small step, Rose drew her hands behinds behind her back and clasped them there firmly. "We will meet again soon, I'm certain of it," said Nasuada, her shoulders slumping slightly, and quickly vanished from sight.

Rose glanced at Eragon but he said nothing, looking quite put out. "Is the message something I should know of?" she asked.

Eragon shook his head before turning away and climbing onto Saphira, who until that moment had been standing completely still. "There will be a meeting that Ajihad wants you to join. It's at noon, in his office," he said, still not looking at her. After a moment, he sighed and then said, "I talked with Saphira. I don't agree with you. I'm not sorry for saying what I had but it shouldn't have been said like that."

Rose looked up at him and nodded but said nothing. As she turned away, Saphira took off and flew towards the city below. She glanced at Thorn, who hadn't move during the interaction.

You match, he said, eyeing her cloak. What is it that you call the fabric fall?

A cloak, and yes, I know it matches you.

I like it. His chest puffed out again, larger than before.

Rose frowned at him. Of course, you do.

With a sigh, she looked down the cloak around her. It was warm, lined with a soft, short fur she didn't not recognize, and its fabric, though unadorned, was sturdy and would not fray for quite some time. The cloak Rose had received in the capital was worn and torn, filled with tiny, neat stitches of different colored thread from the trials of travel. Still, despite her dislike of its imperfections, which she often found herself glaring at, she was hesitant to trade the cloak in. The only reason she was wearing the red one because her old cloak been forgotten in Selena's apartment some nights before. It was likely that she would never see it again.

Well, I suppose that I should get ready for this meeting, Rose said after a pause. Do you truly believe that Ajihad has charged us with anything other than egg's safety?

Thorn snaked his head down to her level, and blinked an eye at her. It sounds that way.

It would be a smart move on his part, said Rose flatly, sorting through the bag of clothing she had discarded the night before. It would be an entanglement of sorts. To anyone outside of our small counsel it would mere appear as if the Varden were taking the threat of a battle seriously. It would appear as if we had sided with them, and would display the unity that Brom asked we present.

You do not agree with it, Thorn stated as she striped from the clothing she had put on the night before.

I did not agree to be responsible for anything save for the egg, Rose stated, tightening the draws at the side of a dark brown tunic. It fell to her knees, and was bordered with a blue so dark she had almost mistaked it for black. She found a jerkin made of a soft leather that she slipped over it before wrapping a thick maroon belt at her waist, in a similar style as she had had seen about the city in the last weeks.

Rose wondered if she would ever again wear lovely things, and if she did, would she comfortable in them? It came as an odd thing to think that she desired her tunic and boots to dresses and slippers. Such fine things seemed to belong to someone from another age.

Thorn waited until she had finished dressing herself to reply, You could refuse.

I believe that I'll wait to hear what it entails. For all we know it could be a front, and I shan't be burdened with anything than we agreed upon. Rose plaited her hair, wrapping the end with a worn scrap of fabric. She laced her boots and, turning to Thorn, she said, I'm ready whenever you are.

I'll be joining you in this gathering.

Settling herself at the dip between his wings, she said, It won't be until later. I wish to break my fast and see if I can find Brom or Selena beforehand. If I do not see them, I shan't burden them but I'm hoping that they will have some insight.

Thorn leapt from the ground in response and glided slowly to the ground below. I will meet you when it is time, he said as she slipped to the stone flooring, and then without another word he returned to the landing above.

Rose made her way toward Selena's apartment, and finding no one inside, she helped herself to a slice of bread and a dry, very flaky cheese. After a time, when the rooms remained empty save for her, Rose set aside the book she had pick up and left, slowly making her way towards Ajihad's office. Thorn met her outside the doorway, eying one of the guards who had shifted nervously when he approached.

She raised an eyebrow at the dragon and he sent a tendril of humor her way, before the doors had opened completely, Ajihad beckoned them inside. "I'm glad you came when you did," the man said, shutting the door firmly close when she stepped inside. "I was hoping to speak to you privately before the others arrive."

Rose looked up at him, her eyes finding his. "I was hoping to speak with you as well."

Ajihad nodded and said, "Please sit," and waiting until she had, he continued, "There is much for us to discuss and little time. Beyond you and a few select others, no one knows of the dragon eggs' presentence. I had talked with both Brom and Arya this morning and have come to an agreement to keep it as such."

He paused, to take a breath and Rose straightening herself, took the chance to say, "You mean to say that you've told those under you that I'm helping to lead the evacuation thus explaining my presence among the woman and children. This is something that neither Thorn nor myself have agreed to." She felt a mask slip over face, both similar to one she had worn in the capital and yet so completely different. Her words sounded to her, closer to something that Tornac might had he been in her place but the thought pained her and she quickly pushed it aside. "May I be so bold to ask what you expect from us?"

"I expect you to protect the dragon egg and perchance should things go negativity for us, that you take it to the elves. That you will do what you must to keep it safe from the Empire's grasp," he said simply, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Many people have risked more than just their lives to retrieve the dragons from Galbatorix's grasp for us to lose the last remaining egg now."

She felt Thorn grumble more then she heard him. Tell him that the hatching will not return to the Egg-Slayer. I will not allow it.

Rose nodded and told him what Thorn had said before adding, "I don't intend on it falling from my protection. Should anything happen to it, it would not be from something I would will. I've lost enough in the last months for those sacrifices to be in vain."

For moment the leader of the Varden and Rose stared at each other in a battle of wills before he nodded, and sat at his desk. "Thank you," he said.

"I do not appreciate being put in a position that I did not agree to," said Rose softly, though she was certain that her words were not unheard.

Again, the Varden leader nodded but said nothing. After a short time, there was a knock at the door and he said, "I have a personal favor to ask, I do not ask this lightly. Please, keep an eye on my daughter, Nasuada." He watched as she nodded, and after this he turned from her, and unrolling a map onto his desk, he called for the person at the door to enter.

It was a young man, a scout, with flame red hair and the uncanny ability to seem to be everywhere in the room all at once. He and his group had been scouting out the valley the women were to travel to. As he gave his report to Ajihad, two more men came in; one Rose could not remember the name of despite the amount of times she heard it, and the other was the true leader of the evacuation. His name was Vers, and as Rose learned he was once a captain of the Empire's army before deserting and joining the Varden. However, that was many years ago and those years showed clearly on the lines of his face, and the stumbling way he moved. His mind however seemed unaffected by time and was sharp.

Rose spent the remainder of her day leaning against the stone table with Thorn beside her, as she listened to instructions and watched a scout map the trail she was to take to led the women to Kealii Valley and other trails she might take should the Varden lose their fight, and what she was to do if that were the case. She learned of the supplies that were to be taken, and the number of men that would be traveling with them- mainly men fresh out of their youth and those who were older- as well as the approximate number of women and children who were to go.

It wasn't until late in the evening that she was released only to be pulled aside by Selena who stood outside the door. The woman looked harried; there were dark cycles under her eyes, and she maintained a deep scowl as she led Rose towards her home. Neither Eragon nor Brom were inside, likely busy elsewhere, and for a long time she said nothing.

"Do you believe that you'll have enough supplies to hold you over?" the woman asked, pouring some pale wine into metal goblet before handing it to her.

"I do," said Rose. "I wish to thank you for the clothing."

Selena waved her words away, before pouring herself a goblet. "You will likely be away from some time. I do not wish you to wear all your clothing to rags." She settled herself close to the unlit hearth. "No one knows what the outcome of this battle will be. The Varden could lose or they could reign victorious. Only time will tell," said the woman, her eyes focused on the freshly stacked wood, "Should something happen to me, should the Void take me at last as it might have many times before, I wish you know how much you mean to me. You are my daughter and I've wished nothing more for years to be sitting here as we are now. I understand that you're upset, and you do not like being reminded that I am your mother, yet, Rose, I cannot help but pray to the gods that we will be able to mend whatever remains broken between us. To have a relationship with you, as a mother and daughter should, means more to me than you could ever know."

Rose remained frozen in her seat, the goblet in her hand forgotten. During the time that the woman had spoken, her mind seemed to have stopped working correctly.

"You can run out of here as I know you wish to now," the woman said when Rose didn't respond.

To Rose's own surprise she remained and took a slow sip of the wine. It was sweet, if a little dry, and was quite good. "There's no reason to waste wine," she said softly, feeling completely exhausted.

"Eragon mentioned to me that you met Ajihad's daughter this morning," she stated when Rose said nothing more. "It is not unusual to see her out and about however she keeps mostly to herself."

Rose looked down and studied her hands. That final piece of their meeting, the piece that had been troubling her, finally made sense. Nasuada wondered all the way up to the keep to deliver a message, nor had she been carrying those books around to read to enrich herself in the history of war, she was more likely planning strategies to win one. It seemed likely to Rose that their meeting was not by chance, and that the woman had searching for an opportunity to introduce herself for quite some time. Rose had the feeling that Nasuada had gone to the keep- not as a grab for power, but rather one of observation. If she is indeed the Varden leader's daughter than it was a chance to decide whether an association was worth the effort that it would take from both ends.

"Do you know her well?"

"I know her enough to think that the two of you would get along well," said Selena, bending towards the fireplace. She stayed there a moment, and then with a sigh, a small flame flickered to life. "I think that it comforts Ajihad to know that you will be going with the women and children. He's rather protective of his daughter."

Rose nodded, remembering his request, and said, "Will you be seeing us off tomorrow?"

"No," said Selena, "I have other matters to attend to during that time." And then they talked on other topics until at last the wine was gone and Rose excused herself, feeling that if she stayed a moment longer that she would fall asleep there in her seat. As she made to leave, Selena stood and pulled into a tight hug before pulling away and studied her face for a very long moment. "You are my daughter," she said softly pulling away, "and I love you very much." Saying no more, the woman walked away towards the small bedroom at the end of the short hallway.

Rose took a deep breath, her arms wrapping around her, and walked slowly to the courtyard to meet Thorn. The two of them remained silent, not needing words, and as Thorn landed on the platform above and Rose wordlessly walked to the cave and began to pack. She did not think over Selena's words nor the day before but forced herself to focus on the simple act of packing up the items that she lain around the cavern. It wasn't until Rose sat down on her bed and pulled her viol onto her lap that the dragon spoke, You miss him.

Rose traced her fingers along the wood, and nodding, More than I thought it was possible to ache for someone. It feels as a part of me that belonged to and loved him is now missing from me and I do not know how to get it back. She plucked at a string idly, and frowned. It pains me too much to talk about him, nonetheless think about him and yet I find that I almost always am. I do not know how to live a life without Tornac in it, only that I must. How can someone who was once so alive- how can they so suddenly vanish as if they never were?

For this Thorn had no answer and merely thumped his tail against the ground. Rose closed her eyes after a time, listening to the rhythm. He would not wish you to live a life only missing him, he said after a time.

I know this, Thorn, said Rose. I know this, believe me. He wanted the best for me, and I believe in a way I have failed. I don't know what to do here or who I should be. Everything is so perplexing and I cannot seem to keep up. She stood then and put away her viol before crawling beneath her covers. Regardless, I cannot do anything about it now only live another day and another after that, hoping that I've made the right choices. Still I miss him and I will miss him for a long time, I think.

Thorn let out a low hum. You have not failed, the dragon said, and then quickly added, I am here when you need me. I miss the two-legged as well.

Rose turned to him, and studied his bulk for a time. She hadn't thought about his feelings for the man nor had it occurred to her that he might have been attached to Tornac. Surely, she thought, dragons must grieve differently than humans, and it was with this thought that she set her viol aside and closed her eyes.

Sleep did not come easily that night, and Rose spent much of it, thinking of the previous day's events, what was to come, and finally Tornac's death. The scene of his death replayed in her mind, and she concluded that it was Brom's fault for bringing up the memories, if he hadn't asked about Tornac surely Rose wouldn't be thinking about him now, not when she had made so much effort to not recall that day or the man or the feelings around it all. She had been doing so well but now, now she could not stop thinking about Tornac. Beside her, Thorn hummed his strange deep purrlike grumble, and eventually late into the night Rose fell asleep. That night she dreamt of a river at the bottom of a winding crag.

The people came in droves; mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, friends, and lovers. Hands grasped for one another, pulling bodies wordlessly into an embrace. They were a soft whispering sea. With so many voices the murmurs became a loud cry, their farewells became shouts. The sorrow of their words was physical, an energy all its own that washed over the courtyard.

Rose watched silently, her fingers trembling as she tightened the straps of the saddle. She watched as a babe was handed to a young girl with nothing more than a quick peeking kiss onto each of the children's forehead. Whispered promises, trails of tears falling from pale cheeks, and then the father was gone, disappearing into the massing crowd. The girl clung to the toddler, burying her face into its chest. Her shoulders began shaking.

Beside the girl stood a couple, a woman in a homely dress with a swelling belly clinging to a fair-haired man dressed in chainmail and leather greaves. They did not embrace each other, did not speak but merely looked into the other's eyes. The man's hand fell from the woman's belly and then slowly he backed away from his lover, his hand now on the hilt of his sword. He vanished into the crowd.

The sound of a child's scream tore her eyes from the man's retreating form towards a young boy clinging desperately to a man's leg, he had a weathered face and greying hair. The boy became louder as the man pulled him away and handed him off to a mid-aged woman. Her skirts were hampered down with children of varies ages, none of them appeared to be related. The old man placed the screeching child in the woman's arms and hurried away without looking back.

Rose's eye met an elderly woman's irony stare. The woman tilted her head to the side, her face free of emotion, masking what she felt underneath. As she had a few days prior, the woman held a buddle close to her chest, a babe who was just beginning to fuss. When she turned away to shush the child, Rose turned away from the crowd. Her eyes met the dragon's ruby gaze, his head hovering close to her. He blew a stream of smoke at her, and she quickly finished fixing the knot of the final bag and batted the vapor away.

Her gaze scanned the crowd once more, and after seeing only a sea of strangers, she clambered onto Thorn's back. The dragon started down the large tunnel away from the crowd. The courtyard was not the meeting place for the group that was leaving, that was further into a tunnel, she had been told, and yet everyone met there anyhow to talk to their loved ones one last time. It was no secret that the people who stood there now may not be seen again. Even the smallest children, the ones who did not comprehend what was truly happening, seemed to have picked up on this. They were silent in way that children should not be. Their eyes were downcast. Those who were older whispered to them, and were awarded with small smiles. These were ones watched with wide eyes as Thorn passed, elbowing their siblings or friends, turning away to whisper only to look back again mere moments later.

The closer they got the tunnel the more eyes Rose could feel on them. The feeling did not cease even after the guards at the entryway allowed the dragon through. The moment Thorn took a corner, hiding her from the crowd's many eyes, she slid from his back and fell into step beside him.

You resemble a bloated peacock, Rose said, eyeing his puffed-up chest. Had he walked the path through the crowd in that fashion? You only need feathers, Thorn.

Thorn deflated in a long wisp of smoke before turning to look at her with a single eye. He said nothing though she could feel his curiosity. It flowed through their mindlink like a trickling stream.

The King had one imported some summers back. The courts' children had a grand time chasing him around the gardens. That is until the feathered beast grew tired of our game and decided to chase them back. They decided to leave Prince alone after that, Rose answered his thoughts, as they walked around the bend into a large antechamber.

He sent her drift of his humor through their mindlink but said nothing. She could feel her wariness creeping into him and pulled away slightly. It had been a long, tiring day already, though that day had only just begun. Brom, Eragon, and Saphira had met her earlier that morning before the gates of the city, in what was to be believed the early hours of morning. None of them talked much during that time, until people began to gather and then Eragon and Rose spoke softly, each wishing the other safety and then when Eragon left, Brom passed a familiar bag to Rose and gruffly said, "I do not have to tell you what this means or to keep it safe, do I?"

"No, you do not."

He pulled something out of his pocket then, and took her hand, folding the object into her palm. "Take this," he said. "Should the worse happen, it will be of use to you. Don't lose it!"

Rose turned the ring over in her hands, studying it for a long moment. "It will be too large for my fingers," she said. "I haven't a safe place to keep it."

Brom grumbled. "Put it on that necklace of yours," he said, and she unclasped the chain, "If we die you will need to take the egg to the elves. Show them the ring, it will show that you are an ally."

"The necklace and ring are made similarly," she stated. "They're both elven, are they not?"

"They are." Brom huffed, and leaned back. "Don't lose either of them. I won't be able to find replacements if you do."

"I do not plan to."

Brom looked at her for a time, then clasped her shoulder. "Everything will be as it should be," he said, and stepped away. "Do not worry. You'll do well enough. Farewell, Rose."

The old man had disappeared into the crowd then, as quite a crowd as gathered, and Rose was left with Thorn, she turned him then and glanced down at the bag containing the remaining dragon egg. It seemed that everything had begun with this bag and this egg and now it was left in her hands.

Sighing Rose, hefted the bag over her shoulder and turned to dragon beside her. In the distance she heard a bell tone echo toward them, and slowly, she began to move. In an hour's time, she would be standing in the world outside having few to turn to besides herself and Thorn. It did not sit well with her, her stomach felt unease and she was glad she hadn't eaten that morning; never in her life had she had been charged with anything beyond herself.

Thorn thumped his tail, and she turned to him, her mind leaning towards his steadiness and she at once felt a calm blossom through her being. At least, she wasn't completely alone in a sea of strangers. The bell chimed again, and she stepped forward, those who would follow shadowing not far behind her.


Author's Note: It has been a very long time since I've updated this story. I'm sorry for that. A lot had happened after my last update nearly three years ago, and for a long time I struggled with some extreme grief and coming to terms with it. It hasn't been easy.

Writing this was a pet project, and it was something my brother, my mother, and myself were all involved in. My mother inspired so much of this tale, and when she was killed (please don't comment on this in the reviews), it felt like I lost a whole piece of myself and a piece of that was the passion to write. I've written other stories (during that time but this one has always been closest to my heart. I put so much of my loved ones in the characters here. I always planned on finishing this story, and now I've lost my notes with the passage of time and am now riding off my very flawed memory- this can only end well... haha

I've put a lot of my heart into this chapter when it came to Tornac and Rose's grief, even Rose's interaction with Brom and Selena. A lot of what was said in this chapter was similar to what was once said to me by loved ones not long after my mother's death, and though Rose's reactions were not mine, I know what those words meant to me and the chasm they opened up as well as the healing that began afterwards. I'm not saying that it will do the same for Rose but it might. Greif is a long winding road that she had only just begun to walk. It won't be the focus in this story but it will be addressed. Rose has not the time to grieve as she should and so she had withdrawn from those around... not that she was social-butterfly to begin with... She's gone from one mind and body consuming thing to the next. I might not have known a lot about grief when I wrote Tornac's death but I knew enough that my intention for Rose was for her grief to fester quite a bit. I've known for a long time that I would have to address his death and her recent behavior. I never expected to live through that kind of grief and struggle through it myself. It's given me an interesting comradery with Rose that wasn't there before.