They stayed out by the lake for another hour before Arya started to feel a bit touchy due to mild sunburn. Her light golden skin never did too well being exposed to direct sunlight for long periods, but it held up better than others. It's still part of the reason she wore the clothes she did during the war.
They flew back together, though she had remained mostly silent. Her clothes and hair weren't entirely dry yet, which provides never-ending discomfort, especially on sunburnt skin. She needed to help Fírnen with his burns as well, which may require a visit to the healer for a larger quantity of herbal medication.
"Go take a shower first, I'll be fine out here. I know you're uncomfortable." He requested once they had landed and Arya dismounted.
"Are you sure, Fírnen?" She asked, tossing the metal sphere absently between her hands.
"Yes, now go before I make a bunch of noise with the sole purpose of embarrassing you." He smirked.
Arya smiled and looked at him pointedly. "I'm not turning you down. Let me look at your foot before I go."
"Fine." He huffed, then held out his injured leg.
The burns were a bit better than she thought, but they would still need to be thoroughly cleaned and cared for. He will not like wearing bandages, but that's what he gets for choosing the path of least resistance to spare his pride.
"Can I ask how you got the bucket stuck on your foot in the first place?" She asked gently while observing his injuries.
"It just got stuck." He responded a bit petulantly.
"Don't be embarrassed, I won't tell anyone." She said to help comfort him. "Does it hurt?"
"Not as much as before." He grumbled. "And I wasn't looking where I was going and I stepped on it."
"Oh that's not embarrassing. Are you sure you're okay? I'll only be a few minutes."
"Yes, I'm fine, now go." He pulled his foot away and nudged her gently with his snout.
"Alright, I'll be back in a little while." She said with a nod, then turned and walked through the open doorway that led into the interiors of the Rider's loft. Támerlein was still where she left it, so she took the opportunity to pick it up and carry it back to where it belonged, setting it up on it's display hooks within the armory.
She felt her body suddenly become heavy as she made her way into her room. Her feet felt like weights and her arms had lost their strength as constantly fighting the water had taken its toll.
With a dismissive sigh, she pulled another pair of loose-fitting black trousers and an elegant green tunic, plus a fresh set of underthings.
She carried those into the shower room where she set them down on the table and peeled her currently damp clothing off. A faint hint of aloe sap reappeared, and this time caused nausea to roil violently in her stomach.
She swallowed, then took a deep breath of air before she sank to her knees. Gagging, Arya leaned over the commode before vomiting harshly, reviewing her last meal into the water below. Another wave came and she yet again lost whatever was left within her stomach. The third and fourth time only produced a small amount of liquid. By the time a fifth wave came, she was left trembling and exhausted. She eventually leaned against the back wall, feeling terrible and disgusted. She made a mental note to burn those clothes.
Ignoring everything else, she cleaned her surroundings with shaky hands and ran the water. She kicked the damp clothing all the way back out onto the porch while the tub filled and left them in a corner, far away from where Fírnen was resting. He simply watched her, but she was too focused on what she was doing to notice too greatly.
Walking straight in, she turned the knob to shut the water off, then stepped in a moment later. She sat down and stretched out, allowing her muscles to relax under the warm liquid.
Her gaze drifted around the room, and soon landed on the commode. "Stressful morning." She sighed softly and dragged herself up to finish her bath. Every bone in her body begged her not to go, but Fírnen needed her, so she forced herself through her routine of a thorough washing and rinsing.
Once she managed to pull herself out of the water, she dried herself off and dressed in the soft clothing she'd picked for herself before entering. She brushed her hair, gazing at her reflection without actually seeing herself.
She left immediately afterwards as worry for Fírnen's injuries grew. She made her way quickly to the cupboard where she kept potions, tonics and antiseptics, along with gauze and other various cleaning supplies. Part of the reason she knows how to sew is because she's had to give herself stitches a few times over the years. It was her mother who insisted on putting a 'Medicinal Aids' cabinet in her room after she accidentally cut herself on a broken plate when she was fifteen. The scar still remained on the side of her left wrist. After that, her mother sought to treat her like she was made of glass.
Shaking her head to rid herself of those memories for now, she pulled only what she needed. After she gathered her materials, she closed the doors and headed back out to the open porch where the dragons were meant to stay.
"Do you feel better?" He asked the moment he saw her and she smiled. She couldn't help but pick up the worry in his tones.
"Yes, I do. No more nausea. I ate something or couldn't digest it, I suppose. Probably Elderberries, I've had aversions to them in the past. I'm also worried about your foot." Her voice was warm and she shrugged before she set her materials on the floor in front of him. She took a seat by his injured foot and took the bottle of antiseptic and poured the liquid onto a clean rag meant for sanitizing wounds.
Fírnen growled lowly when she applied the white cloth to his injuries. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry…" Arya responded sympathetically as she continued to clean the burned skin.
He was practically wiggling by the time she was finished with sterilization, so it was a relief to him when she applied the thick clear goo that was the burn remedy. He sighed in relief; flattening himself out and Arya rolled her eyes with a smile. "Such drama. Let me wrap you up and then we'll be done."
He didn't respond, but she knew he heard her. As she began wrapping his wounds, she remembered the wrappings around her arm after she had broken it. Thankfully, she had enough to cover all of his burns, but she would definitely need more for her supply and, if he kept his injury streak up, she would have to apply for gauze meant for a dragon.
"Thank you for fixing me." He praised highly, observing his new bandages.
"Anything for you." She hummed with a smile, then gathered the bottles and remaining supplies. Fírnen nuzzled his snout against her abdomen as a show of thanks.
"You still have paperwork?" He asked and she nodded with a sigh. It was her duty as Queen to keep good relations with the other kingdoms.
"Yes. I'll need to send a letter to Lady Nasuada soon. I don't think it's smart to banish the use of magic. I hope in the coming weeks we will be able to visit Ilirea and discuss that topic. I suppose it really depends on how the rest of our training goes plus the meetings I must attend." Her shoulders fell for a moment as she exhaled.
"Be careful not to wear yourself out, Arya. Your health is important." He nodded and she frowned faintly to herself.
"What's wrong?" He asked, noticing the decline in her positive demeanor.
She shrugged. "I've felt sick pretty much all morning and I haven't given it much thought. Is that bad?"
He waited for a moment, then once it seemed she wasn't going to say anything else; he spoke. "What are your thoughts on it?"
"I… I'm not sure yet. It's not like I've never been nauseous before. It used to happen all the time during the war, but I never actually got sick from it. Well, there was one time, but that was half a century ago. Elves are mostly immune to illness. We use magic to heal ourselves if we do get sick, but it's rare that we get sick in the first place and I feel fine right now."
"You vomited before taking a shower." He pointed out and she jumped slightly.
"Aloe sap stinks. Now tell me, if you were already feeling nauseous and you came into contact with something that smelled terrible, you wouldn't vomit?"
He stared at her for a moment. "You've seen that happen to me, but I was definitely sick. You don't look like you're sick. Do you have any other symptoms?"
Arya frowned as she slipped deep into thought, staring down at the worn wooden floors. "Breathlessness. I had a headache yesterday, but you know I get headaches when people don't cooperate." She sighed, thinking back to the rather heated meeting she was subjected to in terms of keeping Surda as an ally. "I know Orrin is difficult, but that doesn't mean we should just abandon our alliances. His troops were beneficial to overtaking the Empire, that's not easy to overlook." She grumbled. "I see where they're coming from, though. His immaturity can become a threat."
Fírnen growled and she was brought back to the present. "Sorry."
"It's alright. Go pour over your letters and things while I think and rest my foot. If you feel any worse-"
"I'll let you know." She sighed gently. "Thank you, Fírnen." She gave him a genuine smile, then turned and headed back into the sanctuary.
She turned to walk back into the sanctuary but stopped and moved to face him again. "Can I ask for a favor?"
"Of course." He responded, eyeing her curiously.
"Would you burn those for me?" She asked, feeling slightly embarrassed. "The… smell." She explained as she pointed to the pile of dark clothes on the ground. Elves already have sensitive noses and she doesn't want a repeat of what happened earlier if she tries cleaning then herself. Her stomach feels sore just thinking about it.
"As you wish." He responded, reaching out with one claw on his uninjured forefoot to scoop the soiled clothing up. He lifted his foot in front of his face, making sure the fabric hung down and away from where he could get hurt, then inhaled deeply. A green jet of flames roasted the damp clothing, the water popping under the intensity of the heat. The sogginess evaporated and the articles caught fire within seconds.
White ash fell to the ground and Fírnen watched them before turning back to her. "Do you think you could be pregnant? I remember you and Eragon-"
"No." Her voice sounded much harsher than he had expected. "That's not… no."
"In Ilirea-" he persisted.
"Fírnen. We used wards for protection and we only… we were together one time. It's not possible, so leave it." She didn't mean for her words to seem so sharp.
He glared at her as if he was about to attack, but instead, he forced his way past her mental barriers and sought to check for himself. He went as gently as he could, hoping to not cause her pain. "I don't appreciate being interrupted, nor do I appreciate being silenced when trying to explain something perhaps important to you. I've seen your memories. I know the symptoms, at least in Humans and Dwarves. Elves came from Humans, so how different could it be? Why dismiss something you haven't even considered? It's foolish." He growled but kept searching over her body as she would in mediation, making sure everything was functional before opting to check for a potential pregnancy.
The onslaught was overwhelming as Fírnen demonstrated a power she didn't quite know he had. Most dragons at this age were powerful, yes, but to completely crush her mental defenses as if she were entirely untrained in mental protection? He's very powerful indeed, perhaps to a frightening degree.
He withdrew and her sight came back, which she hadn't even realized was gone until he had finished. Her eyes teared up and her hands vibrated with anger, her body stiff with vile energies. "Don't ever do that again." She barely was able to say before her voice cut off. She threw her mental defenses up and turned around with intentions of stalking back into the loft to sulk. Instead, Fírnen's tail whipped out and around, blocking her exit. She froze and her shoulders drooped with defeat. He wasn't going to let her go until they finished their conversation. To hopefully make it better, she apologized. "I'm sorry for insulting you. I'm sorry for not allowing you to speak or to finish what you were trying to tell me." She turned back to face him, but she didn't look up, shame written on her features. "I didn't mean to disrespect you."
"I wasn't asking for an apology, Arya, though it is appreciated and circumstantially necessary based on the customs of most races. You must know that when it comes to your health, I will not hesitate to repeat my actions, therefore I will not apologize as I am not sorry." He spoke gently, knowing that he had not only invaded his Rider's privacy, but demonstrated that he could extract any piece of information from her, despite her having over a century of practice.
Arya nodded. "That's fair." She sounded hurt and in turn Fírnen felt guilty for being the cause of that pain. Her current demeanor is never seen outside of the privacy they shared with each other, so it stung just a little bit more.
She stood in silence for a moment, feeling weak from Fírnen's intrusion. "What did you find?" She said, finally looking up.
He waited and watched her for a beat or two, contemplating his answer. He wanted her to look in an effort to have her see what he meant by caring for and paying more attention to herself.
"You broke down my mental defenses as a child would a wall made of wind. Please don't keep the information to yourself." Her voice was practically pleading and he hated the way her lips trembled ever so slightly.
His face contorted into a frown. "Are you afraid to look?"
She shifted but didn't answer. Her gaze fell again and she took a small, resigned step backwards.
He nodded, not wanting to cause her any more turmoil. "It seems you're about six weeks pregnant, based on your internal clock."
He saw her body instantly become rigid with unease, then as the air left her lungs in an unsteady manner.
Fírnen lowered himself so he could look up at her, and found that her eyes were wide and full of tears. For the first time in his life, he saw his Rider completely and undeniably inundated by fear. Her arms hugged her waist and she closed her eyes soon after so perhaps he wouldn't find her as vulnerable as she felt.
Showing his usual way of affection was at best inappropriate for the circumstances. Instead, he let his tail wrap around her chest and shoulders in the only way he knew how to give a true hug. He realized she was shaking badly the moment his tail wrapped around her in his attempt to comfort her.
With a cautious touch, she pressed her hand against his tail in an acknowledgment of his efforts. Despite her watering eyes, her tears never fell.
"It'll be alright, Arya. Just breathe."
She nodded and followed his guidance.
"Just breathe."
A/N: I think I'll just put author's notes at the bottom from now on. If you've made it this far, I greatly appreciate your attention! I know this story is a bit of a drastic step to the greatly unrealistic side, and while this story is still under construction, the idea of it has been in my brain for an entire year. That being said, it's been a little over a year since I've read the Inheritance Cycle, so please forgive any flaws in descriptions or incorrect sequencing of events leading up to this story, and let me know so I can fix it too. I've got the next three chapters already written, so I will be releasing those soon.
Thank you once again for reading!
-Lady Arlo