1,000 Reviews! I'm happy! But this chapter I have to say, I'm not happy with. I don't know but I feel a big annoyance of having to use CP's work sometimes. And thank god, this chapter shall show the divergence from his original works. And it will slowly take form of a plot all on its own. But I'm so thankful that it's over, now I can write this story and still have it move towards the ending that I want.
It was midafternoon when he heard news of Arya's and Murtagh's return to the Varden, four days after she'd departed in search of his brother. Eridor and Thorn had promptly flown off to meet them, eager to reunite with their Riders. Saphira remained by his side as he sat and tried to study one of the few books that Arya had given to him. Will you not go to meet her? I know you've missed her.
Of course you would know, Eragon neatly folded the corner of the page he was on and closed the book, setting it on the table inside his tent. He stood and strapped his sword onto his waist. Let us meet them then.
The last three days, he had busied himself with sparring with his servants and in doing so, he'd often found an outlet for the bloodlust that plagued him. It didn't succeed all the time but a handful of times. Though he still felt ill and often times would find himself wandering an alien land in which the ocean was crimson red and the sky a pale gray.
Eragon climbed onto Saphira and with two powerful strokes of her wings, she was airborne. Flying also helped for it cleared his mind. Thorn and Eridor, he saw were already preparing to land in their zeal as they dived to the ground. They must miss them greatly.
The bond a rider and their dragon shares is one of the mind and soul, it would be odd not for the two of them to be excited at their return, said Saphira. I know that if you were to leave me for some time I would miss you terribly.
And I you, he felt guilt wash over him as he thought of what he had asked of from his servants. It ate him alive every time he thought about his favor. If there was a way for him to make it through without dying, he would find a way to make it up to Saphira.
Hold on tight, without warning Saphira leaned forward and like a spear dived from the air towards the ground, spinning and rotating all the while. He let out a yell, gripping one of her front spikes to keep from flying out of the saddle. Through his connection with Saphira, he could feel her immense pleasure at their flight and had to shake his head at her tactics. Saphira spread her wings and landed with a thunderous crash as she closed to the ground, jostling him slightly in his saddle. The patrol galloping towards Arya and Murtagh had bolted in the opposite direction at the sight and sound of Saphira.
Warn me before you actually decide to take another plunge like that, Eragon as he dismounted alighting on the ground.
It's not like I was going to let you die, I would never be that careless.
Again, her words caused a deep pang of guilt erupt in his chest. He knew that she would never let him die, even if that meant dying herself. The thought scared him to no end. He didn't have to contemplate it for long as Arya approached him. At least he thought she was Arya. Her features resembled Arya but her eyes were level and her ears round. She also wore a forest green dress to which he raised a brow.
Catching his gaze she smiled, lightly ruffling her skirt with the back of her left hand. "Though I said I did not like to wear dresses, I was forced to during my trip." Her voice was Arya's and he knew than that she was indeed his mate.
"It matches you," said Eragon with a slight smile, feeling his tiredness and bloodlust wash away at the sight of Arya.
"I'd anticipated that you would say as much," she said. Her eyes traveled from his head and down before returning as she took in his appearance. "You look very sickly, Eragon."
"I've only a slight chill," he waved it away dismissively. She regarded him with an unbelieving gaze but did not push the thought as Eragon reached out to embrace her. Her skin, was slightly dusted in sand. It was odd to imagine that before they'd returned to the Varden, he and Arya had never sought to be in an intimate relationship with one another, but now they were. When he made to pull away, Arya's hands came up to caress his face, feeling the hotness of his skin. Her curved eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "Really, it shall go away in a few days time."
Her eyes were a startling green as she regarded him before she nodded, reaching up to kiss him. "We'll see about it at a later time, Eragon." She murmured against his lips.
Pulling away from her he turned to Murtagh, "It's good to see you are safe and unharmed, Murtagh," said Eragon. "It is good to know that you've rid Alagaesia of those wretched creatures."
"They were hardly the effort seeing as there was only four of them to defeat. It would take more than that to defeat Thorn and I," the red dragon opened his jaws a few inches before snapping them shut to emphasize his statement. "In any case, you honor me with your words, Eragon."
Eragon nodded, turning his head to see the patrol of warriors approaching, "It seems we have company," he said.
Arya nodded, "No doubt to escort us back to the Varden." She climbed onto Eridor with ease, the emerald dragon blinked his joy at her return undisguised. Eragon returned to his seat on Saphira's saddle. As a group of one, they as well as the patrol, advanced towards the sea of tents of the Varden. Eragon frowned when the congregation grew larger as more and more men joined in escorting back to the Varden. The sea of sounds made him blink. There were just too many people. His hand itched to grab his sword but he suppressed the feeling with great difficulty. Soon enough the twelve elves joined them, proclaiming their purpose and mission to Murtagh.
It's too noisy, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tune out the shouting. His ears felt ready to bleed and he thought he might go mad from the sounds that surrounded him. Maybe going to meet Arya wasn't the best ideas he had. But he missed her too much not to. He blinked again. Eventually the three of them had dismounted and Eragon remained close to Arya trying to balance the noise with her calming presence. It partially worked as the villagers from Carvahall soon joined in with the ruckus, congratulating and praising Murtagh.
It aggravates you, doesn't it Eragon?
He frowned, feeling sweat form on his hands as the familiar thirst to kill came back to him. He ignored the voice, but it persisted. All of this noise, all of these people. Kill them and it will be silent. Kill them and you will achieve peace.
No.
Do not lie to yourself, you know as well as I do that violence arises from the emotions of others. If you were to destroy them you can bring about peace to Alagaesia. You can do it.
No.
Isn't that your purpose as a Rider? To bring peace to this land? Merely killing Galbatorix won't bring it. No, you have to see to it to silence all of those who seek power. Silence those who will bring about war for their own selfish ends. The Varden. The Urgals. The Dwarves. The Elves. Everyone.
A soft hand gripped his. Eragon opened his eyes to find Arya staring at him with concern. He blinked again. Not saying anything, the two of them followed Murtagh to Nasuada's pavilion where she waited for them besides King Orrin and his nobles.
Eragon released Arya's hand and went to stand by Nasuada trying to block out all of the thoughts and the thoughts of the spirit in him. She delivered a brief speech which seemed to rouse the men and women even more as they cheered and stomped. They loved Nasuada, Eragon observed, more so than King Orrin. Nasuada was a leader who could inspire such loyalty and confidence, she was fit to be a Queen.
If we win this war, she may take up the throne after Galbatorix, Eragon said to Saphira. She can unite this land like no other. Not even King Orrin with his superior intellect can amass a crowd such as this so easily.
I've thought likewise.
Once Murtagh gave a fumbling few words to the crowd and their cheers had subsided did they retreat to Nasuada's pavilion. There more questions waited as it was filled with people. It strained Eragon's mind significantly to play the role that was expected of him as Murtagh and Arya went about answering questions and sometimes he would find the attention diverted to him. He fought to remain calm and composed with the help of Saphira's thoughts and his connection to her. But when it seemed as if he could not bear it anymore, did Saphira with the other two dragons growl in warning. And soon enough the pavilion was emptied of guests leaving them with Nasuada, Orrin, Murtagh, and Arya.
He took a seat beside Arya, who had slipped her hand into his, as if sensing his distress. Throughout the telling of their adventures, Eragon felt himself drifting in and out of reality and his own mind. Sometimes he heard the song of birds while others it was either Arya or Murtagh who spoke. Was this madness? Not being able to differentiate reality from fantasy? He didn't understand how his mind could deteriorate so quickly in such a short span of time but it was unraveling at the ends.
Often times, when he found himself drifting, the pressure of Arya's hand would increase slightly or Saphira's own thoughts would ground him. Honestly, he could care less of the butcher Sloan that Murtagh couldn't bring himself to kill. He would rather be sleeping than listening to his brother's struggle for justice and morality.
What was right? What was wrong? Eragon moved his head slightly as his thoughts began to wander again. Was Killing justified? How does one justify it? You take one's life and you live your own. How cruel.
Without reason a small chuckle escaped him, the sound unlike him. It seemed to startle the others. Eragon glanced at them, clearing his throat. "I apologize. I was merely thinking."
"Perhaps it is better if you rest, Eragon." Nasuada's gaze turned into one of concern. "You've not been yourself lately. It would do you more harm if you were to continue to strain your mind and body."
"I agree, we cannot have the person who we dictate our cause to do himself any self harm." Eragon turned to them for a moment before nodding.
"Then I shall take my leave." He stood, sparing Arya a second glance as he withdrew his hand and made for his tent. Saphira went to accompany him but he shook his head.
I'll be fine, no need to worry Saphira.
She was reluctant to leave him but after much resistance on his part, she relented. Go and rest then.
I will.
Retiring to his tent, he found himself more than ready to sleep the day away. But his dream was strange as it had been as of late.
He stood on water that stretched as far as he could see but for some reason his body was not submerged by the liquid. It felt as solid as any ground he had stood on. The water was a crystal blue, the same as the sky overhead in which wisps of clouds floated by.
He turned, about ten yards away from was the white tomb that he often saw. It was chained shut but the metal looked like it was rusting away, corroded from an unknown source. Sitting atop the tomb was his shadow, his eyes narrowed, his expression cold.
"You cannot hold back my power anymore, Eragon," he spoke. "The seal in your right eye is broken and its magic is fading. You've chosen your own doom when you accepted my help fighting Jeremiah."
"It doesn't mean I can't prolong you."
"How? Even if you do, my bloodlust will eat away at your mind until your entire soul is consumed by me. Then you will be nothing more than someone akin to a shade."
"If I take my soul back from Jeremiah, I could survive."
His shadow laughed. "How will you do so? The moment I leave your body, you will slowly die. And even if you do manage to win back your soul. How will you reunite it with your body? With its other half? You've lived too long without it."
His shadow regarded him for a moment with a feral smile. "Let me ask you a question Eragon. Do you love Arya? Does it hurt you when you think about leaving her? Leaving Saphira?"
"What would you know?"
"Nothing really. I just find emotional attachment to others bothersome. You were better off as Gabranth, without the love from others." His shadow lifted a finger he made to do a gesture but stopped and lowered his hand. "Think, the closer you become to others the more your burdens increase."
"Even so, I don't care. I just want to be with them. You wouldn't understand, you don't have a great enough capacity to do so." Eragon said as he regarded him.
"You don't but they do. Once you succumb to my madness, what will they think once your servants see to it that they fulfill your wish?" his shadow asked. "A little selfish of you isn't it?"
Eragon didn't answer. The tomb on which his shadow sat atop made a sound. He turned to it to see a small crack running down its side. And leaking from the crack a drop of crimson liquid fell to the blue water it stood on. Once it hit the surface, the red drop diffused into the surrounding water, tinting it red.
His eyes opened when he felt a soft hand stroke his cheeks, he found Arya hovering over him. Her features returned to normal, her eyes bright in the darkness. She was dressed in her regular leather. Feeling plagued by a fever, he reached out for her and tugged her towards him and into his arms. She did not resist him but her body tensed at the sudden action. Pulling her closer to him he moved slightly for her to lie on his cot without discomfort. Never had he desired another's company like Arya's. After everything that they'd gone through, having her by his side put him at ease even if it was for just a moment.
"Stay with me," he murmured tiredly unable to comprehend what he was saying. He just wanted her to be close to him. Though her hair was slightly damp from the bath she had taken earlier, he didn't mind in to slightest. His arms came to wrap themselves around her, pulling her close enough to him that he felt her breath on his hot skin. Her skin was cool from the bath she'd taken.
Eventually her muscles relaxed and she let him embrace her. Letting out a content sigh, he buried his nose into her hair. She whispered something, but he lost it as his mind returned to a more peaceful state of sleep rather than the waking dreams that he drifted in.
The loud sound of a curse woke him in a voice that belonged to Bard. He heard the shuffle of feet in the opposite direction. Blinking, his eyes were met with a sea of dark hair. What? It took him a moment to realize that sleeping in his embrace was Arya. Or she was sleeping. Her eyes were open, adjusting to the light as she turned her head to stare at him.
"Good morning," she whispered slightly with a smile.
"That it is," he glanced down at her trying to remember when she had come to him. After a few moments of struggling with his thoughts, did the memory surface to him. He felt embarrassed.
She didn't seem to notice but lightly stretched within the confines of his arms like a cat. "Bard seemed to have come to wake you."
"He ran in the opposite direction for some reason."
"One can only speculate why," Eragon withdrew his arms as she made to sit. He watched as she stood and walked over to his basin, pouring water from the canteen he had set there before washing her face. Then with a towel that he folded on his table did she dry her face. After a moment he sat, refusing to move for his body ached.
"Have you been ill as of late?" she had switched to the ancient language as she wet the towel in her hands. She made her way over to him and very gently began to wipe the sweat from his own face. Though he was not an invalid, he didn't mind her treatment.
"A little," he murmured in reply. In truth he was not physically ill but the mentality he suffered from the spirit gave him symptoms of an ill person. She gently wiped his eyelids.
"Is the spirit bothering you?"
"Not quite," she waited for him to speak as she brought the towel over the bridge of his nose. "My mind hasn't been in the right balance since the battle. I feel ill every time I smell blood or hear pain. It's been unpleasant."
She frowned, her hand stilling before she continued. "So that's why you've been unable to sleep and eat?"
"More or less. But I've been getting better as of late. There hasn't been anything to upset my mind and my illness is slowly fading away. You need not worry for me, Arya." he felt another pang of guilt at having to lie to Arya in a roundabout way. He sighed, tilting his head back to glance up at her, "I'm glad that you've returned."
"As am I."
"Have you met Blodhgarm and the other elves?"
"I have."
"What do you think of them?" He was curious as to her opinion and he wanted to move away from the topic of his illness for the moment. She thought for a moment. Eragon waited patiently knowing that if she were to deliver a serious judgment it would require her some thought and time. Then after a moment she answered him.
"They are the bravest and most powerful spellcasters amongst my people for they have fought in battles on grander scales than most and survived. Devoted they are to helping the dragons and our cause."
He thought as much. "They are very polite."
"Should they not be?"
He shrugged as Arya placed the towel on the table done with her task. But she didn't make to sit, instead she continued to stand before him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Blodhgarm seems interested in Rosalie more so than normal."
"Does it bother you?"'
"I'm just curious as to why."
"I would assume that her origins and the fact that she can be compared to an elf seem to draw his attention." He nodded, he thought as much when he'd first met the elf.
"Do you think he has a wonderful aroma?" Eragon asked.
At his question, her lips twitched and her eyebrows rose. "Though it may be a good aroma, I am more partial to another's scent." To prove her point, she bent down to breathe in his scent. He smiled at her pleased by her response. She always seemed to know how to ease his mind.
"They know that you and I are mates?" Arya nodded. "Do they approve?"
Her lips curled into a frown and she gave him a look akin to disapproval. It had been a while since he'd seen that expression on her face, "Whether they approve or not does not matter for our union does not concern them."
"I know, I was just curious."
Arya nodded, her hands gently messaging his shoulders of their own accord. He watched as she thought for a moment before a smile made its way back onto her face, "There is a place I would like to show you once we invade the Empire." Eragon waited. "Murtagh and I found it and there is a gift awaiting you there."
"A gift?"
"Yes," she sat beside him. Eragon instinctively turned to her. Though he may be inexperienced in the areas of intimacy, lately his mind had instructed him in multiple ways on how to approach Arya. All of which seemed to work, so he took some comfort in his own natural instincts. He leaned forward to kiss her for a brief moment reminding himself of her exquisite taste before pulling away. Then she began to explain to him the spirits that came to her and Murtagh at night and the golden rose that was bestowed upon them out of their gratitude towards Eragon.
"When we get the chance, I would like to show it to you."
"And I would like to see it." In the back of his mind he felt sadness and guilt overwhelm him as he thought of the idea that he might not be able to accompany her when the time came. She smiled at him unaware of the pain that plagued him. He returned it hoping that he would not have to leave her. In his heart, he wanted to stay at her side until the ends of time.
It's not that great is it? (Sigh) I've tried my best but at least we're at 1,000 reviews! Oh, and about the questions for lemons. They will surely and slowly start coming into play soon. But the first one shall not have Arya and Eragon getting at it. Because I just don't see Arya as the type to actually give in so soon. Eragon's going to have to work his way there (however wrong that sounds) But it'll be an interesting scene to write. I feel like I have a good enough grasp on Arya to portray her in that situation