Finally! I am so sorry for the long wait everyone! But this chapter had me on edge. It was by far the most challenging one I've written. I often had to restart and try again. I hope this try was good. This is my first Brom POV, so tell me your opinions so I can work on the later ones. And the bonus chapter shall be up after this one real soon. (Hopefully). But despite the challenge it proved to be a rather great experience. Anyways RR!
The day was still young and there was plenty to do within the mass organization named the Varden. Reaching the capital of Surda, Aberon, was the least of his worries. They were on the brink of starvation and people amongst them were beginning to fight and steal from one another. To say it in one word, it was chaos on the brink of disaster. But not only that, power hungry fools were reaching out with their claws trying to disturb Nasuada's leadership. And one of them was the young, and in many eyes, handsome, King Orrin. From what he had heard from Nasuada, the man felt outdone. Each race held the reigns of a Rider within their grasp and he had lost the opportunity to seize control of that factor. Shifting his weight to his right foot, Brom stared at the battalion before him. It was a rank of over a hundred men, with no experience in the areas of fighting. And they were all assigned to him.
Ever since Nasuada's elected position, she had made sure that he, Brom, was on her council of advisors. He wouldn't consider himself under her, but all the same, with Eragon beneath her as a vassal, he had no other choice but to consider her power as well. She held the power in his son's actions. His son. Brom had never considered, never gave thought to the idea of having a child, no less a son who was a Rider. It gave him a new light of respect seeing how Eragon was also one of the few who have ever killed a shade and come back alive. But the idea had brought him a great deal of grief. He had missed out on being father to his son for sixteen years. He should have tried harder, looked farther. It was a pitiful train of thought. But this wasn't the time or place to wallow in remorse. No, there were things that needed to be done.
"You were all chosen to be trained by me, and I shall tell you now that I will not tolerate foolishness," said Brom, his voice gruff. "One of the few things that I shall ever teach you is discipline."
And he could see the excitement in their eyes, ready for whatever task he put them to. He smirked. If only they knew what he had in mind. Within the next two hours, he had the hundred men running laps in a circle one hundred feet in length and fifty feet in width. Endurance was a key to fighting, as well as stamina. If one were to drop tired during a battle, death would be their only companion. "Err—Sir Brom," said Bard rubbing the back of his head as he watched the extensive training. "I don't think they can take anymore."
Nasuada had also lent the aid of Eragon's servants to help with the training and he had to admit they all had their special qualities, though their cheerful disposition constantly had him cautious. "No, I want to see how long they can go without complaint," said Brom. Following orders is always the first nature a soldier should have. After another half hour, he was satisfied that not one soldier had complained throughout the entire ordeal. They weren't half bad. He watched as they laid, sat or stood hunched over on the ground, panting and sweating. "That was good, better than I expected from any of you. Go home and rest, tomorrow, we'll be doing the same until you all can run for at least an hour without tiring."
"I can see where his Lordship gets it from now," muttered Desdemona. Brom frowned. He had known when he had met the four of them that they had been hired to protect Selena from danger. But there was always a little jealousy at the thought that they had known his son for longer than he had.
Life, he thought, wasn't always fair. Dismissing them, Brom made his way back inside the Aberon Castle that overlooked the busy city of Aberon where the streets were crowded. Not far off from the city was the Varden camp. His room was not far from Nasuada's so that if there was ever an emergency, she could easily call for him. Opening the door to his room, he found the very person that had changed him. Selena was sitting on the bed reading a thick book, her brown hair falling in front of her face. It was a beautiful sight and it made his heart ache. "I see you're back from training," said Selena with a smile.
He nodded. "There isn't much to do save watching them at the moment." He lowered himself to sit beside her. "How are you feeling?"
"Perfect," came her reply, making him smile. He had never felt happier than with Selena; she knew how to wash away his ease and worry with a simple phrase and a sweet smile. The reason he was worried about her? Eragon wasn't the last child that she was going to give birth to. He could remember it as clear as day. It was after a day when Eragon and Murtagh left with Arya and Orik for Ellesméra, Angela, though she did have her eccentric ways, had found that Selena was indeed pregnant. And had been for nearly a week.
The joy he had felt, to know that he was going to have another child. The sorrow he felt, when he realized that this was the first time he could experience such joys, another reminder of what he had missed much during his stay in Carvahall. To say that he was excited was an understatement; he couldn't wait for the months to pass until their child was born. But how would Eragon react when he found out? Disappointed? Surprised? Angry? The one thing Brom didn't want Eragon to think was that he was replacing his elder son. There was a knock on the door and in walked Desdemona with a tray of food.
"Lunch, Lady Selena." She said with a smile that looked rather odd on her beautiful yet haughty face. There was more than usual, enough to feed a grown person and a child.
"You've all been spoiling me too much," said Selena, folding the page she was on before closing the book.
"Not so, his lordship has warned us to make sure you were properly fed or he'll make sure we rue the day we were born." The way she said it with such ease made his jealousy grow along with his own self-loathing. But Brom was curious as to how such people came to work underneath Eragon. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm fine," replied Selena, leaning forward to take a look at the food. It appeared, he thought, delicious, but he had a little feeling that she would not want him eating off of her plate. It was beef shimmered in a spicy sauce with rice off the side, beans and corn to the side. "Did Bard cook this?"
"He can be a rather competent chef when he isn't fooling around," Desdemona said with a nod. "Eat up, Lady Selena; I'll be back with dinner later on." With one last smile, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.
As Selena took up her fork to eat, he tried not to let the fact bother him that everyone seemed to know his son better than he did. It had been eating away at him ever since he watched Eragon leave without so much a word to him. It hurt but it didn't hurt like it did when he first found Selena again and that she had revealed to him that he had a sixteen year old son who was a rider. Saphira. He didn't know whether or not the naming of the sapphire dragon was a coincidence or something more. "You seem deep in thought."
He turned to stare at Selena, who was busy chewing a piece. "Eragon . . ."
He didn't have to finish for her eyes flashed in understanding. She lowered her fork. "Brom, I'm not going to lie to you. Eragon has been through a lot. You'll need to give him time, maybe while he's off in Ellesméra; he can learn to adapt to breathing the fresh air more freely without trying to strangle himself with responsibilities."
"I feel ashamed," murmured Brom. "I don't even know my son. And my only excuse sounds pathetic, even to my own ears." I know Morzan's son much better than Eragon.
"It's the past, Brom," said Selena, "Right now, we should focus on the present. When he comes back, don't avoid him." She smiled in understanding, reaching out to rub his forearm comfortingly.
"Can you tell me about his childhood?" asked Brom. Selena smiled. Ever since he had learned of Eragon, he had repeatedly asked to listen to his son's childhood, but he never tired of it.
"Eragon was a sweet child, much sweeter than you," she said, "Though he was always lonely. He never went out to play with the other children his age. I've always wondered why that was, but it wasn't until he was older when I realized that he wanted to be with me. Whether it was out of love for his mother or the thought that I might disappear when I left his sight, I shall probably never know. Maybe I'll ask him one day, when everything settles down. He loved you with all of his heart." Her eyes flickered to him and he felt his heart clench at the sound of something new. Something he had yet to hear. "Ever since he was old enough to understand a small part of the world, he had always questioned who his father was. Where his father was. The only image of you he had was a fairth that I'd made long ago. Eragon loved you dearly. He longed for the father that he never had and had wished that one day you would show up and love him just as much as he loved you. I told him all types of stories about you and in his eyes, he saw his father as a hero."
"But somehow, it all changed. The affection he felt for you was cast aside when he was only seven. He didn't ask about you anymore and he tucked the fairth of you away. That was when he started to change. It was small but in time, it grew. When he was twelve and Saphira hatched for him, his entire nature became different. And Gabranth was born. I've never questioned why he had thrown away his name, but I was sure a small part of him had wanted to retain some semblance of his identity which led him to name his dragon Saphira. The dragon his father had lost."
"He was kindhearted; he took Desdemona and the rest in for his own purposes but in the end, I'm sure that he cares for them more than a lord for his servants. And they certainly do like to indulge him. Always making sure he ate and slept well." She smiled.
Brom nodded and said quite dryly, "I think Rosalie and Desdemona have that down to the point. They seem to adore him."
"You could say that," said Selena, returning to her lunch and the story. "The people admired Gabranth. He did many things within the Empire, always traveling about to the large cities and helping to put down corrupt rulers and crimes. In a way, you could say that he was almost a shadow of what a king should do. Everyone went to ask him for advice and for aid on their troubles. Though no one knew who his real identity was, I would gamble that many females were infuriated with the thought of a handsome, princely man behind his helm."
"He does look the part." Brom said, the thought of Eragon's refined elven features reappearing in his mind. "Has he ever been with a woman — ?"
"Good lord no," said Selena, surprised and somewhat amused at the question. "And I'm sure Desdemona and Rosalie will make sure that none of the female race would ever get close enough to try."
"Hmm." There was Arya, the only other female besides Rosalie, Desdemona, and Selena whose fate would also be closely intertwined with Eragon's. He felt somewhat uneasy at the thought of his son being so close to Arya. But who was he to have the right to voice an opinion of such a union? "You should eat up. The baby can't feed itself."
"Yes, sir." With that she resumed eating. He smiled; part of his world was setting itself in place, but there was another large part that he needed to fix that he needed to find a way to heal. When she was done, he left to explore the castle somewhat. He found it odd how much the King of Surda loved his science.
As he let his feet carry him to any destination, he thought. The idea of thinking wasn't foreign to him. He had thought on many occasions. Thinking was the key to success. The key to brilliant plans and the origins of intelligent minds. But there were some things that logic couldn't fix, like the elves always thought. No, emotions couldn't be fix with logic. For the past sixteen years, he had tried to live life raising Murtagh to be a man Selena would be proud of, someone unlike his father. And for those sixteen years, he had grown fond of the man he had come to be, almost caring for him as if he were his own son, watching out for his every move.
But all of that time, he had a son who had wished to see him dearly, who had wanted his father. And he had neglected that fact and continued life watching over the son of his enemy. The man who had betrayed his trust and loyalty, who had betrayed the Riders. He had never regretted taking care of Murtagh, but he regretted deeply that he couldn't care and love Eragon. If you want everything, you'll end up with nothing, he thought. But was that really greed? To want to see two boys grow up happy? But the 'if' question was that, if given the chance to do it all over again, who would he look over? Murtagh or Eragon?
"Ah, and here is the teacher of one of our recent Riders and father of the other." A voice said. He turned to find Angela walking towards him as eccentric and odd as ever. "I hope your fortune has gotten better since we've last met."
"It has in some ways."
"Wonderful." Despite her cheerful disposition, she seemed on edge. "But as you are thinking, I didn't come here to speak of pleasantries with you, Brom."
"I see. Then what is it that you've come to see me for?"
"A deed that your charge has caused."
"My charge?" he frowned. "Has Murtagh done something?"
"Done something?" Her expression became dark. "It's more complicated than that. Come." She led him down the corridor of the large castle that seemed to be swathed in glass. It was convenient that it was evening for with the sun high in the sky, he was positive that the heat would've made their travels much harder to accomplish. "Sometimes, I wonder whether it was your teaching or Murtagh's bone-headedness, though it could be both."
The came to a door recessed in the inner wall of the corridor with gifts surrounding it on the floor. Opening the door, he followed her, in the center of the room was a small child eating a platter of food at her lap. Rosalie sat beside her with Solembum curled comfortably in her lap. What was it that Angela wanted him to see? A child eating?
But the presence of a cold mind, an odd existence, touched his thoughts. Was it possible that it was the child that was giving off such a mind? But how? As if knowing what he was thinking the little girl looked up, revealing a dragon mark bright upon her brow and violet eyes. Her lips quirked into a smile, a smile that chilled his bone for he knew it did not belong to that of a child.
"I've been waiting to meet you for a long time."
It took almost an effort for him not to grab his sword; the sound of an adult's voice coming from a child chilled him to the bone. He had no doubt that she knew what suffering was. "Who are you?" he asked cautiously.
"I'm Elva." She turned to Rosalie. "More food." He was somewhat surprised that the she actually rose to her feet without objection and left the room with the grace that lied in her walk. Elva then patted the floor beside her. "Please sit."
He slowly lowered himself to the floor. He stared at her and felt a magic driving deep into his consciousness tearing at his thoughts, at his memories. He fought the strong urge to recoil, when she reached out to grip his hands softly. "Remorse and guilt isn't a way of living. It's only a way to die. Time will eventually heal all wounds; your son will understand when he returns from Ellesméra. The person who loves you will help you and there will be others to help close this bridge between father and son."
He stared at her. She knew everything, all of his fears, the very things that weighed heavily on his soul. Elva had addressed them all, and had given him a small semblance of peace, knowing that whatever father-son relationship he had with Eragon wasn't useless.
But he didn't let it sway him. Elva was dangerous. She knew, for whatever reason, his fears. And if she did, he was sure she could discern the fears of others, bend them to her will and manipulate them. He didn't trust the child before him who seemed an adult in many ways than one. "What are you?" he asked again.
"I am what your student, Murtagh, made me."
That was right, Brom thought. Murtagh had blessed a child. But was this a blessing? "He blessed you."
"He didn't know what he was doing back then. The lack of education and knowledge had turned my blessing into a curse. It was much worse when I was smaller for there was nothing I could do about it then."
"About what?"
"Their pain. Every time I see a person, I feel the pain that is beset upon them and the pain that will be beset upon them. The magic in my blood drives me to protect people . . . to sacrifice myself for them. No matter the consequences of whether I want to or not." Her smile twisted bitterly. "It costs me dearly when I resist the urge to do so."
Sympathy filled him. A child bound by magic to suffer. "Why have you told me this?"
"Since you are Murtagh's teacher -" her violet eyes pierced him, "or former teacher, rather — I thought you might know how to fix his wrong and undo his curse from me."
He frowned. He was old with age even though he didn't seem older than most men. The magic required to undo her curse was something that was out of his reach. "I'm afraid that I'm unable to help you, Elva. I don't possess the amount of magic that Murtagh does."
Her eyes became obscured for a moment and she blinked nodding. "I'm sure that when Murtagh returns, he will right his wrong. If not then, Eragon might -" He stopped. Did he have the right to even suggest whether his son might lend his help? Just then Rosalie returned with a new platter of food.
"Eat up, Elva." She said gently, placing the food before the girl. With ravenous intensity she tore at the food, bending her head over the platter, hiding her violet eyes. When it was apparent that she was going to talk no more, Brom accompanied the herbalist to a separate room. Angela made sure that the door was close before she spoke.
"That was what I wanted you to see, Brom," she said with a sigh. "Nasuada was here earlier today and she agreed to feed Elva as much as she could afford to. I've agreed to watch after the young girl, but not for the next century. This has to be fixed."
He nodded, that much was apparent. "Is she dangerous?"
"More or less," said Angela with a shrug. "But you've seen it and you've heard it. The person that she's most likely to kill is herself. The compulsion to protect others from misery drives her to near insanity."
"And how far can she foretell events?"
"Two or three hours at the most."
"And you're taking her under your wing?"
"That's what I've been asked and I shall try to keep up with it as much as I can." She said. "It is a good thing that Eragon's servants have agreed to lend me another eye. They're trying their best to watch out for Elva."
"But why can't they heal her? I'm sure that, besides Finny, they are capable of that magic." Brom said, more to himself than Angela.
"I've asked," said Angela. "They don't know how to go about doing so and for them to do so, they need to know the incantation that was first beset upon her." He nodded. "So, what are you going to do about this? Rosalie and the rest are trying to concoct potions and remedies to elevate the pain."
He frowned, thinking about the hundred troops placed under his wing. Training was going to have to take another intensity. "I'll make sure that not too many people die."
"Good . . . because when I'm done with your former student, we are going to need the extra numbers to replace such a blockhead."
What did you all think? Good, alright, bad? Please review and tell me, I'm dying. But I'll try to post the bonus chapter tomorrow and the next chapter in a few days (4 hopefully). It's been a hard chapter but opinions are always welcomed. And I hope that you've all enjoyed the Brom POV. See you next chapter!