I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
So, I lied.
We're going to take a quick stop back in time, by about a week or two from the main story time. This side story was something I found in my notebook, and I couldn't believe I had forgotten about it because, actually, it's rather important to the plot.
So enjoy this quick side stop,


Loyalty and Duty

"Something has been brought up for you."

Ilbert startled as the door clicked shut but continued to study the papers in front of him, paying the woman who walked in no mind. It was not as if he did not enjoy Brigsitte's company, but he'd rather that she didn't interrupt him; he had a lot to do and not much time to do it. He could nearly curse himself for delaying this task for so long.

"If it is my aunt's infamous pasty," he said disinterestedly. "I'm going to have to ask you to go back whist you came."

Brigsitte giggled and stepped closer, her shoes clicking irritatingly on the floor. "You'll be relieved to know that it's not," she said.

"Thank the gods."

"Though I think you will like it just as much," she continued without missing.

"That doesn't sound promising," he muttered, still staring at the papers. He couldn't seem to make out what the words read, it seemed to be nonsense. A bunch of nonsense, which it probably was. "What is it that you brought?"

"I'll only let you know if you set those papers down," said Brigsitte as she stood in front of him. She picked up one of the papers and looked at it before promptly set it back down. "I think you will go cross-eyed if you stare at these much longer. You've been up here for days with them."

He put down the papers and looked up into Brigsitte's face. "Very well," he said. "What have you brought me?"

"Lady Eliona had this brought from town for you," she said in with chipper tone as her face brightened and she smiled at him. Then with took a quick intake of breathe, she handed him a crystal goblet filled with a dark liquid. "Her ladyship had requested that I bring it to you."

"And I thank you bringing it, Brigsitte," he said staring into the glass. He ran his fingers over its cool, smooth surface a moment before sniffing it. It smelled bitter. Scrunching up his nose, he set the goblet down on the same table he had placed the papers, and leaned back to look at the woman towering over him. He wished that she would either take a seat or back away. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Oh, it was not," she chirped, stepping away from him at last. For a moment she looked at him, playing with a stray piece of her hair. Her gaze made him feel rather uncomfortable. Her mouth opened twice before she shut it as if she were debating to say something, either that or she was trying to look like a fish. "Are you feeling unwell?" she asked breathily, having finally made up her mind. "I heard Lady Eliona say that were, feeling unwell I mean, and I was wondering if perhaps…"

"My ailment has returned?" he asked, glancing at her. Her cheeks rapidly reddened as she nodded and looked dutifully at the floor. He frowned and looked at his fingers. "You may put that thought aside, it has not. I don't believe it will, either, it has not effected for quite some time and I don't believe it will return." Leaning away, he picked up the wine and hesitantly took a sip. It tasted dry and bitter, almost as if he had taken a bit of a very unripe fruit mixed with sand. He nearly spit it out but somehow forced himself to swallow without being sick in the process.

"Oh, you best be careful," Brigsitte said as she watched him. "That's drier wine, I should have warned you. Perhaps you should have it with the chicken, I heard Lady Eliona say it'll improve the wine's taste."

"I thank you again, Brigsitte," he said in a tone that was almost as dry as the wine, "for burdening yourself with such a task but I doubt anything could improve its taste."

He gave the papers a quick glance before looking back to the lady standing in front of him. She was, he thought suddenly, quite beautiful. Her skin was as smooth as polished marble, and her face was soft and round, enveloped by chestnut colored hair. Her blue eyes shone in the light as if she hadn't yet seen the burdens of the world, which make him doubt that she had ever seen one the many wrongs of the world. Brigsitte had lived with his uncle since she was little more than a babe and therefore Ilbert thought he was right, that she had seen many troubles. His uncle's sheltering had made her kind, almost thoughtlessly so, and, Ilbert thought, that she would a fine wife for whomever might wed her.

Ilbert, personally, didn't intend to marry; he already had too many women in his life than he thought was healthy. He knew though that if his parents insisted he would do so but for their sake, not his. Never his.

"It cannot be that bad," she said, with a questioning look.

"It is, trust me. If they serve this-" he held up the goblet and tipped it toward her "-whatever this might be- wine, ale, or poison- this evening, do not drink it. I beg of you to save yourself, for your own sake. Invent an illness, if you must, and leave as soon as possible."

She stared at him openly for a moment, and then very slowly she laughed in an uncertain way.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said once she had calmed. "The lady requested that I ask if you need anything."

"I do not," he said with a shake of his head. He looked down at the papers and made a face. "You may take your leave if you wish."

Brigsitte's mouth opened slightly but then she shook herself and nodded. "I shall let you rest then," she said before bustling out of the room.

With a sigh, Ilbert turned his attention once more the papers. Truthfully, he did not wish to continue reading through them, he had only just forced himself to begin when Brigsitte interrupted him, and now his motivation was completely crushed. Ilbert couldn't afford this, his uncle had requested that he assist with these papers days ago and they were to be done the day after they were given to him to do. Ilbert couldn't seem to get the paper read. He found the work rather tedious and demanding and now more than before.

Ilbert did not know what he was going to do, his mind kept pushing him in all different directions until he was left feeling confused and lost indeed.

It had been that way ever since Rose had surprised him all those weeks ago and ever since he continuously found himself in a horrible internal debate.

Rose's visit would have been hard enough. They once had been very close friends but the distance between them and the passing years seemed to have taken its toll. The unweaving trust well still there was different, an unspoken agreement had sprung up that they shouldn't speak of certain things.

It was not only that, with the fact that they hadn't seen each other in some time meant that the news they shared was vast- the only news she brought was dismaying. The company she now had was beyond surprising; to think that she was traveling with her mother...Ilbert could laugh at the absurdity of it. He had heard Rose rant and rage for countless hours about her parents for half of his childhood.

Must of the time he thought she was just being a girl about the whole thing, until he discovered a portrait hidden away in her rooms while they were playing a hiding game. He had talked to Tornac once about it and though he didn't understand all of it afterwards he thought that perhaps she was not being as much a girl as he thought she was.

At least he didn't have to have a portrait to know what his parents looked like as he grew up, no, he had displeasure of knowing that and them on a personal level.

Was it that he hated his parents? Perhaps, there were times as a child when he claimed he did but he thought now that he was just aggravated with them. His parents had shipped him out here years ago when his sickness did not go away, for reasons that were completely their own. They had claimed that it was for the better, it would help his health and maybe later he could return when he to the capital. He had believed them, and then months and eventually years went by, and not once did they visit him, occasionally they wrote but most of the time it was like he did exist now that he was out of their sight. After time had passed the truth hit him like a slap in the face; they had sent out to his uncle's to save what little dignity they had left, to keep his illness hidden. They could say now that he was getting stronger, even if he was not, and no nobleman in Urû'baen would know the truth. Maybe it was better that way, or maybe it was not.

It didn't matter anymore. He didn't care.

Let them coddle their other children; the ones where born normal and healthy- who didn't befriend a bloody Dragon Rider!

He stood up so suddenly that he collided the table in front of him over, spilling the papers everywhere and knocking the goblet onto the floor, braking the crystal and sending that disgusting wine splattering across the rug. He looked at the mess for a moment, and then swore before walking out of the room as quickly as he could. He'd warn someone in the halls about it if he passed them, and if not, it didn't really matter; it was only spilled wine.

What had she been thinking? Of all the stupid things for her to do… it was no wonder she did not tell him about it. He had seen it though; that dragon as she flew away on it. He had seen it and he knew.

He knew that she couldn't be flying for the King, if she were Ilbert would have heard about it long ago. She was hiding, and would likely turn against the Empire and would be on the run forever unless she allies herself with those bandits that called themselves the Varden. She wouldn't if she were smart, but it was not that Ilbert believed Rose to be thoughtless. It was the fact that he knew how she felt towards the Kings and his plans and ideals. He knew that she would never want to be controlled- and knowing this worried him. It troubled him because he knew his friend so well and yet he felt sometimes as if he did not.

But what of the dragon? How long has she been with it? Was it strong enough to do what the Forsworn's beasts had done? Were they strong enough? What a dragon truly like?

Still he did not know what he should do with these questions. It was not as if there was any he could ask, and to tell someone would be betraying his friend's trust in the worst way.

Not telling somebody would be treason.

Being caught as a conspirator of any sort would mean that his family would suffer and for him it was likely death. While he didn't care much for his parents half the time, his youngest sister was someone important to him, he could never do anything that could mean her harm, nor could he betray Rose.

Ilbert was caught between the point of loyalty and duty, and he didn't know what he should do.

There was no one he could go to ask for advice. The only person who would hear him out and try to understand was dead and the one who was involved seemed to have disappeared. There was simply nobody within his reach who could help him with this matter.

He thought about asking his uncle but he never did. The man would likely tattle the moment he heard, where Ilbert would prefer to think about it. Thinking, however, would not keep him or his family safe forever.

Eventually he would have to make a choice.

He just didn't know what he would choose when that time came.