Chapter 28: Nothing Here Is 'Perfectly Fine'.
As the celebration waned, slowly reaching its final hours, elves gathered en masse for the words of their Queen, Islanzadi, who stood upon a root of the Menoa Tree that acted, in this case, as something of a stage overlooking the waiting throng.
Arya stood in the crowd, alongside Oromis and Glaedr, Saphira, Orik, and Rhunon, waiting for the words of the elf queen.
"As is our custom" she spoke to the gathered "And as was agreed upon at the end of The Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, the first Eragon and the white dragon who represented his face, whose name cannot be uttered in any language, this one, dwarven, human, or any other..."
That wasn't entirely true, his name was just rather complex and contained thoughts and feelings and expressions more than words, making translation difficult and lengthy and, worst of all, debatable, but it sounded more mysterious to say it cannot be uttered in any language.
"...when they bound the fates of elves and dragons together, we have met to honour our blood-oath with song and dance and the fruits of our labor. Last this celebration occurred, many long years ago, our situation was desperate indeed. It has improved somewhat since, the result of our efforts, the dwarves, and the Varden's" Arya wondered if that represented importance, or impact, or military strength, because though the first and last were accurate, at least from an elven perspective, the middle one certainly was not "Though Alagaesia still lies under the black shadow of the Wyrdfell, and we must still live with our shame of how we have failed the dragons."
There were many bowed heads at this, some tears, some prostration, much shame. It was not their duty to protect the dragons, that much was true, but many felt that if they the elves had acted sooner, if they had struck harder, if they had kept the Dragon Rider's more to task, if they had done this, if they had done that, on and on. Everyone felt like someone had failed.
"Of the Rider of old, only Oromis and Glaedr remain. Our friend Brom, amongst numerous others, entered the void this past century. However new hope has been granted to us" she lifted a hand, outstretched towards the sapphira blue dragon stood to Arya's left "Saphira, and her rider, it is only right that she bear witness to this, as we reaffirm the oath between our races three."
Though Saphira was present, her Rider was not, still 'indisposed'.
Even Oromis seemed disappointed at that, he had sent an elf off to locate Eragon, but the elf had gotten caught up in the merriment. He had made to go himself, but had been reminded of his duty to stay to bear witness to this. Incompetence and inactivity until it was too late, and little more, had conspired to keep Eragon from being forced to be present. She supposed it was good that Saphira was here to bear witness to it for him, if nothing else.
At a signal from Islanzadi a wide expanse was cleared at the great tree's base. Around this clearing lanterns were staked, forming a perimeter, and musicians gathered upon a ridge of the Menoa Tree, instruments and all, else how would she identify them as musicians?
Arya let herself be guided by the crowd, falling into place with Saphira and Oromis and Glaedr at the edge of the clearing that was still being formed.
Oromis spoke to Saphira softly, but she could hear, she was between him and Saphira after all "Watch carefully, this is of great importance to your heritage, to the legacy you two represent."
Saphira nodded 'I will share it with him, ebrithil.'
That seemed to content Oromis and he turned his gaze back to the vast expanse in the centre of the mess of elves, where two women slowly walked to the centre. They stood, back to back, in the centre. They looked like elves, beautiful beyond compare, to humans and dwarves at least, and they were identical save their hair, one black as the darkest midnight, the other like burnished silver.
"The Caretakers, Iduna and Neya" Oromis whispered to Saphira, and Arya realised with a start that the dragon had asked a question. She had been so focused on the event unfolding before her she hadn't registered it.
They stripped in unison, unashamedly bearing their naked bodies to the throng. Marked upon their fair skin was an iridescent tattoo, a tattoo of a dragon.
Saphira remarked 'Pity he is not here, my Rider would likely enjoy this.'
Arya forced a smile. He likely would.
The tattoo started at its tail on one, and ended with its head on the other, and every scale was a different colour, and of such vibrant hues, it could be compared to a rainbow, but that faint reflection of light was truthfully no comparison, this was so much more intense than a rainbow, and so much more beautiful.
The twin elves entwined their arms and hands together, that the dragon appeared to be a continuous whole, moving from one body to the next without interruption. She closed her eyes, and listened to the soft thump of their feet, as they stamped the ground once, twice, on the third the musicians struck their drums to match the stamp, on the next harpists plucked their strings, and the next flutes joined the pulsing melody.
And then she opened her eyes and watched them dance. The dragons seemed to fly round and round on their bodies more than their bodies seemed to move. The twins added their voices to the song, weaving a spell, yet something more primal, more powerful, than any spellcaster would dare to wield today, elven or otherwise.
She heard Glaedr started to hum with the rhythm, and her own voiced joined the melody when Saphira matched the elder dragons efforts.
It was sudden, a flare of light ran the length of the dragons tattoo marking Iduna and Neya, and the dragons itself stirred. It pulled itself free of the elves skin, and, with mighty wingbeats, climbed into the air. The tip of its tail remained connected to the twins, while the beast itself searched the crowd, then looked skyward.
It loosed a roar that made her bones quake.
And then it flew away.
In the aftermath Arya sat there staring at the canopy through which the dragon had flown, with the song still going strong around her, with all but her still a part of the melody, and felt very much like she was the only one who noticed it had gone, or even been there, and certainly the only one who wondered just where it had flown off too..
That was until the great sapphire dragon known as Saphira leapt into the air, with a roar and a breath of fire, and flew away after her grander and more glamourous brethren.
A thought struck her; Eragon wasn't here.
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He watched as Whitey struggled, he could feel Legion permeating every part of his being as the white dragon tried to clamber over, but it was of no use. The beast was to tired, to wounded, to broken, it could do nothing but watch, slowly clawing its way closer, knowing it would be too late by the time it reach Eragon's side, knowing full well but forcing itself to move even so.
It was sweet, adorable even, such devotion, such courage, like a faithful dog. He laughed, despite everything. Any dragon would murder him for comparing even a shade of their race as Whitey was to a dog.
But what else could he compare the devotion to? Legion's doggedness perhaps? His own devotion to Saphira? Her devotion to him?
It hardly mattered in truth, it was all he could to even think such thoughts in the cacophony that his mind was being forced into. Soon he would lose himself to all these voices, become a singular amidst hundreds, thousands, a mere speck.
Soon he wouldn't matter at all.
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He wiped the blood from his face with the back his sleeve, spat the blood collected in his mouth, and then spun on the spot more than twice around for no other reason than fun, laughing as he did so "HeheheHAHA!"
His heart thudded in his chest, hard enough that he could feel it in his ribs. He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, just to make sure this wasn't a dream, some fantastic fantasy, a wild illusion. He ran a hand through his blood red hair, wiping it from his face. This world was so… beautiful, so wonderful. He could feel it, touch it, smell it, taste it, lick it, bite it, burn it, break it, desecrate it, DEVOUR IT!
His breaths were unsteady and shaky, from joy, his hands too, heck even his legs weren't entirely stable, but it was fine, it was all fine. It was all ok, because it was his now.
A hiss escaped his lips as his palm burned he glanced at it, at the symbol etched there, glowing brightly, and wondered why it was doing that. He hadn't channeled magic thus far, so why was his palm…
The thud of a dragon's wingbeat silenced his question before it could be completely asked.
He turned his gaze upwards, and bore witness to the most beautiful sight he ever did see. A massive multi-coloured dragon consumed the sky above him, each scale a different colour, like a thousand gems glistening, ethereal yet solid and tangible, radiating rainbow light, casting wild shadows and a cacophony of colours all around him.
Tears rose in his eyes from the sheer beauty of the thing before him, and he raised his hand, craving to touch it, to confirm it was real, and no mere spectre or trick of the light.
The dragon responded to his gesture, and moved forwards to let its snout touch the glowing, burning, Gedwey Ignasia, and it was only then, as white hot fire burned through his entire body, searing his insides, as minds ancient and more powerful than he poured into his being, it was only then that Legion realised its folly.
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Ba-dump.
He felt it, running through his veins like hot iron. It hurt but it felt so good. So right. It made him feel so very powerful.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
He heard a scream, high pitched, low pitched, evenly pitched, weirdly pitched, off pitch, all of them at once. Upon focusing he found there was many screams, being screamed as one, and knew who was screaming.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
He forced himself upright, and then wondered how he could do that, how he could even think at all. Legion had devoured him, had it not? Was this not what he was feeling right now, the power of being Legion? Wait, could he even feel something like that? Perhaps being one with Legion wasn't so bad, if this was his fate.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
But that thought seemed oddly out of place. Would he ever think that? Was this Legion again? It's thoughts? Could it even have a coherent thought pattern, or would it just be a mess, a thousand voices screaming endlessly, trying to be heard.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Was that his heart beating, beating faster and faster and faster and faster, or was it a drum? Was it a song? Some faye spell?
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
He was sat up now, and looked around. He saw Whitey, lying on the floor, bleeding, wounded, broken… dying. Then he saw Legion, screaming, melting, burning. Burning in flames of every colour.
Where were those flames coming from?
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
With a start he realised they came from him, he was burning Legion. Wait, was he a dragon? He didn't remember being a dragon, Eragon wouldn't claim to be a the most attentive individual, but he was fairly certain he hadn't been a dragon. And with another start he wasn't. He was sat, watching a dragon burn Legion.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS?!" Legion screamed "THIS ISN'T FAIR, WE WON, THIS IS CHEATING!"
What odd words to say, yet oddly fitting. It had had it in the bag, it had won, everything Legion had ever wanted was now within its grasp. And now snatched away.
Wait… Legion hadn't won?
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
It hadn't, or so he realised with yet another start. Legion had been absorbing him, but had not finished, or at least he could still be fished out of Legion, plucked like an apple from a water barrel and placed back upon his pedestal.
And that was exactly what this beautiful, rainbow scaled, light bearing, thunderous, mighty, awe inspiring dragon had done, or was doing. Whatever this dragon was… it was ancient, so very old, and oh so powerful, that much he could feel just from its mere presence. It was more powerful than Legion, compared him Eragon was an ant, Legion little more than a rat, and it remained a dragon.
He could hear music more clearly now, coming from the dragon, yet beyond it, somewhere further.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Legion screamed and charged the mighty beast, grappling with it, somehow. Eragon was fairly certain Legion was not as large as a dragon, yet seemed to grapple on par with it, as if it was the same size. But then this was his mind, and his mind wasn't noted for being especially sane, at the best of times.
The dragon shoved Legion away with a foot and then pinned it to the earth, but Legion struggled free and, with another screams, he was a thousand fold. An army charged the dragon, and the dragon just burned them all. A single sweeping breath of rainbow flames seared the gathered army. Eragon and Whitey had fought for hours, struggled tirelessly, and ultimately been defeated by this selfsame horde, and this dragon swept them away with fire, like dirt under a rug.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
He could hear singing now, though no voice was distinct in a throng of hundreds, thousands, all coming from the dragon. It was radiating with power and beauty and music, even as it burned to cinders an entire legion.
But a monster such as Legion would not go down so easily, it reformed from the ashes, a melted, broken shell of a being, and let loose a godawful scream that made the Rider shiver, it ran, not at the dragon but at him, at full speed, madness gleaming in its eyes, frothing at the mouth.
The dragon's foot stopped it before it could get within fifty feet of him, smashing it into the dirt, and then stamping again to keep it there. Then the dragon backed off, moved away, and began to… sing? Yes, it was singing, a throaty, grumbling singing, more like humming, but singing nonetheless. Unless it was in fact humming, in which case it was humming nonetheless, not singing.
But that was beside the point, the point was what the singing/humming was doing.
The ground twisted, the world shifted, the entire… 'reality' they were surrounded by altered at this dragons whim, changing and flowing and moving to its desire. And its desire, was for a cage, a cage of black iron bars, thicker than his arm, and with only space between for said arm to reach but halfway through.
They were covered in runes, whether warding sigils, some spell, or simply words, echoes of what was used to make this prison, Eragon didn't not know, he simply watched, as this grand rainbow dragon built a prison.
It was difficult to describe the process of building a prison in one's own mind, it took immense mental will, fortitude, effort, and that was within his own mind, the dragon was doing it in someone else's.
But just as memories could be hidden away, knowledge tucked into the dark corner of your mind, so too could… spirits, he supposed. Other consciousness, was maybe a better term, though Legion was… well, a legion of other consciousnesses.
The castle had kept Legion in as much as out, out of Eragon, or at least as best as he could separate the two of them, but in Eragon at the same time, contained within him. There were cracks, breaks, gaps, enough for one or two to break free. But Legion didn't want to break free, it wanted to break in. The fact was that if Legion had been released from Eragon… gods only knew what would've happened.
There were so many spirits in him, it could be disastrous, and not all disliked being inside a human, some craved it. Whitey had described it as going insane, and perhaps that was how it was for the majority, but for a minority, it was beautiful, excruciatingly so. To feel what Eragon felt, despite the pain was a pleasure beyond anything they had experienced in their entire existance, if it was pleasure that they experienced. Perhap it was simply the feeling of being alive that they craved.
He wondered how he knew this, he didn't have a great knowledge of Legion psyche… then he remembered that he did. He had been Legion, for a few moments. He had felt everything.
The pain, the agonising pain, the hate, the loathing, the desires, and the love. That immense, powerful, insane love that Legion felt for him. Obsessive, unhealthy, ridiculous love. Love that went full circle back into hate. It was so much love, such intense love, maddeningly so, it may as well have been hatred.
As he watched the black iron sealed shut above Legion, a black iron plate forming above, and another below its feet. It screamed, it raged, it slammed into the bars, roared, bit them, punched them, smashed its head against them, stamped its feet and cried, tried to tunnel through the iron beneath its feet, only to rip apart its fingers, ripping off fingers nail and breaking fingers in its pursuit, but the metal didn't give, it didn't even shift.
Eragon had built an entire castle to contain this being, and a simple cage forged by this dragon looked so much more sturdy. It could last millennia, Eragon's fortress had lasted maybe a month.
The great beast now turned its glistening, flickering through every colour of the rainbow, eyes to the crack that Eragon only now realised was still splitting this world in two. He really needed to learn to be more attentive, this was his mind wasn't it? Surely nothing here should escape his notice, yet somehow tonnes of things seemed too.
The crack was far worse than when he had last seen it, it seemed to reach for him, like a hand outstretched. In its depth boiled hot magma, and he could swear he saw Durza, the man… nay, Shade himself, in that roiling liquid, laughing. And the crack slowly deepened, and grew wider, and closer, and closer, to Eragon.
But then, the dragon breathed rainbow fire, deep into the crack, down to the depths, and it did not do what fire was wont to do and hate the laval, but instead cooled it, the vicious bubbling magma quenching into twisted, bubbling, black rock. Down there, in the rock, he could still see the Shade's maddening grin, staring up at him from the depths, but frozen in stone, petrified for all eternity.
'It is beyond our capacity to heal it' the dragon spoke with a voice of many voices, so many Eragon's head felt like it was splitting, more so than it already was. Unlike Legion it spoke with certainty, while Legion always seemed to second guess itself, have to discuss its words, needed to think, decide, deliberate, debate, with itself.
'We had hoped to grant you so much more' the dragon told him 'Yet this is all we have the power to do. Your body is scarred and marked, imperfect, and will remain so, but this curse...' it's gaze turned back into the now deep valley carved into the land '...will bother you no longer, of that much you can be assured.'
"I…"
The dragon flickered, and suddenly it seemed less solid, more ethereal, half in this world and half not 'Time grows short' it said, and turned itself to Eragon. Without understand what he was doing, he raised his hand, and the dragon touched his Gedwey Ignasia with its snout, and then they were stood, basking in moonlight, where he had fainted.
Blood dripped from his mouth, from his back, and his palm felt warm, really warm, a good kind of warm.
The dragon flapped its wings once and in that instant rose so far above him he had to crane his neck to see it, he craned his neck so far he fell onto his butt 'This is our gift to you Eragon' it spoke, even as it turned back to fly away 'Attain what you desire... for we desire it too.'
Ba-dump.
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'I'm going to rip off your dick and shove it so far down your throat it'll be coming out of your arse!'
Perhaps it was because he had been on the receiving end of such insults for a good half hour now, but Eragon just laughed away her words.
That did little to improve her rather tempestuous mood 'If you laugh at me one more time you god damn insolent, stupid, fucking, little…'
He laughed louder.
She made good on her threats when they landed, some of them at least, as some she lacked the required dexterity to adequately perform. She was a dragon, and Eragon's penis was not that large.
Saphira landed in their apartments, and proceeded to grab him with a clawed hand and flung him onto his bed. If he'd had any air left in his lungs she suspected he'd have made a joke about that, and this was before her clawed hand pinned him to the bed while her gaping maw hovered above him, hot blue fire burning in the depths of her throat.
'You could've died, Eragon.'
He smiled, almost drunkenly, up at her, the magic of the Agaeti Blodhren affecting him far more keenly now that it had before "I know."
'Why didn't you ask for help?!' she asked, begged, unable to comprehend such… such flagrant idiocy 'Oromis, Glaedr, I, anyone would've been more than willing to aid you. Why must you do such things on your own?!' did he have no sense of self worth, or no idea of what he was worth to her, or did he just not care? Was his pathetic pride truly more important?
"Because…" he shrugged "Because I don't wanna risk someone I like, and I don't trust anyone I don't like."
Saphira roared, right in his face, knowing how loud the volume would be, how much it would hurt, how easily he might be defeated by her act 'I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID PRIDE ERAGON!'
"But I care about you" he told her, working loose an arm, to run his hand up her snout. It was a nice gesture, one that would be calming and soothing in any other situations "And I don't want you to die because I have issues. I don't want you, or even Oromis, or Glaedr, or Arya, or Orik or anyone I like to get hurt because of my problems. I'll deal with my problems."
'And yet you couldn't' hot spittle splashed on his face, burning his pale skin pink 'And if it hadn't been for a freak occurrence, that we had no idea would occur, then you would've…'
"But I didn't."
Saphira faltered, but her rage wouldn't die so quickly 'And the next time? You'll face your problems alone, and the time after that, and after that. You need to learn to trust me Eragon, I am not your enemy, and I am certainly not some maiden whom you must protect, lest she learn the true horrors of the land. I am a dragon, and you are but a measly human, learn some fucking respect.'
He grinned up at her "You're my maiden, Saphy, that'll never change. My first love, and my best."
She sighed heavily and released him from her grip 'Keep up your smooth talking, I might decide to roast you slowly instead of impaling you.'
Eragon laughed.
She watched him as he struggled to his feet, wiping some blood from his face. He cast a spell, borrowing a bit of her energy to clean his body in a heartbeat. It was a rather complex spell for such a simple task, but as Oromis had explained to him, and through him her "Personal hygiene is difficult to perform using gramarye, you could easily end up taking off your skin instead of the dirt, depending on your perspective, or how loose the command is. Therefore great care needs to be taken, and where possible manually performing it preferable, as well as significantly more pleasurable."
She knew Eragon agreed with that, his long baths displayed that quite keenly, or maybe that was just to ensure he aggravated Vanir a certain amount each day? Fulfilling some inane quota, it would be like her Rider.
He stripped off his clothes next and Saphira took note of the scar on his back. The last time she had seen it it… did not look good. It had been red, inflamed, swollen, painful to look at never mind touch. It did not look like a pleasurable mark to bear.
Now though, it simply looked… like a scar, an old scar too. White coloured, quite large and thick, a keen reminder of an old injury, but an old injury nonetheless, not some still paining mark.
More than that, whatever the hell had happened to him had changed Eragon, she could tell, with a single look into his eyes.
Into his intense brown eyes.
What had that spectral dragon done to him? Had it separated him so much from the Shade, from the being that called itself Legion, that he was no longer of its ilk? His eyes would indicate yes, but she did not wish to make assumptions, especially on a topic she knew so little about. She would ask Eragon about it, but how would he know more? He knew his own mind like he knew that back of a spoon, the back of a spoon he had never seen before, in a land far far away where spoons were some elaborately decorated relics.
Next Eragon dressed, into some of the soft fabrics the elves had provided him. They looked to elaborate on her Rider, she prefered him in simpler clothes, or better armour. Armour looked good on him, not to mention it helped protect his frail human body from the various pin pricks and other such ailments he faced, such things were a real bother for a body of such an insignificant size.
She watched as Eragon staggered over to her, coming to a halt stood before her. She was still stood, watching him like a hawk. He smiled at her, that same drunken smile he had worn since she had found him "You forgive me yet?" he asked.
'No.'
He seemed to find that intensely amusing, and it took a rather long time for his laughter to subside, and when it did he was on the floor, clutching his stomach. Humans were very strange creatures, especially when drunk, especially when drunk on elven magics.
'Eragon…' how to approach this? She looked down at him, he was on his back now, looking up at her upside down, a smile having never left his face 'Your eyes… they…'
"I noticed" he interrupted softly, before suddenly and somewhat shockingly springing to his feet, and stretching animatedly "Trust me I know" he sounded… excited? As he had been that night… that night.
Saphira frowned 'Eragon…'
"I don't know about your my dearest Saphira, but I am going to go and enjoy some more of that enjoyable elven partying" he spun around, ending his spin facing the door" I've heard good things" he shot her a smile, a smile that made her genuinely joyous, as he looked so truly happy, and began wandering from their room. She let him go, but not without a final thought sent his way.
'You hate elves.'
He waved at her, not turning around.
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She saw him out of the corner of her eyes, a child walking amongst adults, but all were drunk so none noticed it. None save her.
He looked different, his face more innocent, less apathetic, less angry, and he was smiling, not a vicious smirk, but a true smile, a smile of wonder. A child's smile, a child beholding something incredible. The man she knew would scowl at what was going on around him, find it boring, pathetic, or just plain dumb. But this… child found it incredible fascinating.
He caught her eye, and his smile widened, but he did not approach.
So she did instead.
He noticed her approach, and a childish grin worked its way onto his face, and like a cat he made to flee. She pursued, indulging him in his childish game for a while, as he flitted between elves, between circles of entertainment, staying a moment, moving on as she closed in. She caught him on the edge of the celebration, but he kept walking, heading… somewhere, she followed in step, not letting him outpace her, not that he even tried.
The vessel in his hand was not the one she had seen him obtain earlier, this one a wooden mug where before it had been a delicate work of crystal or glass, it was filled with a dark brown liquid that quickly disappeared as he brought it to his lips.
It had been what, fifteen minutes since their 'chase', if you could call it that, had begun, much had could he have drunk in that time. But then grin he sent her told her it had been quite a bit, either that or the magic of the celebration had taken its toll on him at last.
"You were not present earlier" she spoke after another few minutes of walking, with clearly no real objective in mind.
"Hmm" he said, even that coming out slurred.
Arya scowled, she didn't really want to converse with a drunk Eragon, especially not an evasive drunk Eragon "Oromis was quite displeased" she said, receiving no response "And Saphira left midway through, she seemed… hurried."
He finally spoke "Yeah, she would."
That made her frown. Something had gone on, but what? "Is everything alright?" she asked, lengthening her stride so that she walked alongside him, instead of behind.
"Everything is perfectly fine."
That was a pile of horse manure, but she let it pass. If he didn't want to tell her he wouldn't, or at least she didn't think he would.
He stopped by a small stream, so small he could easily step over it, but it cascaded nicely down some nearby rocks, creating a mini waterfall. He crouched down to view it for a time, and she waited for the moment he would stand and kick the rocks away, waiting, nay, craving, that moment, as it would prove she was still talking to the Eragon she knew.
He didn't.
Instead her turned to face her, a smile on his face "Hello, Arya Svit-kona…" he looked off to the left "I suppose that's not right, hmm" he touched two fingers to his lips "Atra esterni ono thelduin."
She responded with the correct line, masking her shock with the politeness ingrained into her, her shock was two fold, first at his politeness, as Eragon had made no attempt to be so at all, in fact he had made a distinct effort to be impolite. The other well… the other was his eyes.
His eyes… how had she not noticed before, his eyes, no longer that maddening crimson that made her shiver but to observe, but brown and human and… and boring, so very… boring, dull, plain, human, insignificant, the eyes of someone who had no place in this world of wonder and magic, the eyes of a normal man.
"Your eyes…" she murmured, they were just like back then, the first time she had borne witness to them. Eragon's plain human eyes.
"Yeessss" he drew the word out, a little teasing smirk on his face. Did he realise how smackable he was just then? Probably... he should.
She said nothing, wondering where this was going.
"Arya" he drawled her name next, walking forwards. She felt herself clench involuntarily, but he just strode past her, or rather around her, circling her like a cat playing with its meal. Should she feel threatened? She didn't.
"Yes" she said simply.
"Do you like me?"
The question shocked her, so much she struggled not to let it show. Her answer was harder to form, and it took her many moment "I do not dislike you."
She could practically hear his pout "That's not an answer."
Arya sighed, that was a fair enough reaction. It was not an answer after all, it just so happened her emotions were confused on the matter of Eragon, and this… recent… change? Could it even be called that, she didn't know yet if anything had changed, but this recent change did help clear up such matters, even so "I suppose not. I… do enjoy your company at times, at other times I find you unbearable, and others still I find you terrifying" and sometimes, she thought, I find you… boring. But that was this instant, never before had she found him so, bored certainly, uninterested company, but never himself boring per se.
Right now though, his motives were so plain, yet he danced around the topic. Was it odd that she would rather he just shove her against the tree and try to kiss her, at least then she could knee him in the balls and the matter would be done with. This was… a painfully obvious advance and a tedious one too.
He stopped in front of her, a smile on his face. It was nice to see him smiling, she would admit, not grinning cruelly or smirking tauntingly. So why did she find it less satisfying, and far less… interesting, was that the correct word, or maybe… maybe, just maybe, attractive was the right word. Was it? Did she find him less attractive right now than when he bore the eyes of a murderous monster? Could that be true? Could she deny it?
Eragon's fingers touched her neck, and she half expected his hand to wrap around her throat. It wouldn't be the first time. But it didn't, it strolled along her neck, up to the line of her chin. His fingers followed along, warm to the touch, till they reached the tip, where they rested, gently adjusting her gaze so that she was looking him head on.
Eye to eye.
Sparkling green to brown.
Arya wondered if Eragon thought himself attractive at that time. From his smile, intended to be seductive she supposed, his body, held just so that she could see it in its form fitting cladding, leggings of green, patterned in dark green, and a red tunic that seemed to meld to his torso, edged with gold. Was he attractive? Was her perception of attractive slanted? She had no idea what to feel right now.
He moved forward, and she knew his intention long before he began moving with slow, languid but intent movements.
She pressed her hand against his shoulder and pushed him back, placing two paces between them "Such a relationship is ill advised Eragon, and not one I have desire to pursue" she told him softly, as gently as she could. She had no desire to hurt his feelings. He was a Rider after all, and angering one of them was unwise, but even if he wasn't she would not wish to inflict pain upon him, and didn't know whether she did not wish harm upon him or whether she would not wish it generally, or at least be so disinclined to cause it.
He made her very confused.
She saw him begin to speak, but interrupted "You know why. You know full well. You are young, I am old, at least in comparison. You are a Rider, I am an elven princess. We have duties. And I have more obligation my duties than to you" she saw him about to speak again, and again cut over him "I am grateful to you, immensely so. You saved me from Durza, you slew him. And I do not find your company…" she paused "I find your company pleasant. But this… it would never work."
"Because I'm a Shade?"
Her face contorted at his words, funnily enough, that fact had never crossed her mind.
"I'm not that person anymore, Arya" he looked up at her, she could see the wetness in his eyes, and again realised just how pathetic he was "I've changed. I'm human, I don't have to be a Shade, I don't have to be that Eragon anymore."
Arya shook her head "That isn't…"
But he took advantage of her distraction, stepping into her personal space, and stealing a kiss from her lips. She shoved him back hard, hard enough that she was surprised he was still standing, and angry enough that the look of hurt on his face did nothing for her. She slapped him, with all of her strength, felt a tooth come loose in his mouth, his teeth pierce the wall of his cheek, and he looked at her now with real hurt, and more than a little anger.
But the anger did nothing for her, it caused no fear, and no regret.
When she next spoke her words were as steel, hard, with an edge like a razor, and unyielding, she spoke them in the ancient language no less, to rub salt into his fresh wounds "I have no romantic interest in you, Eragon Shur'tugal. I have no desire to pursue a romance with you, your advance and unwanted, and, to be quite frank, I find them to be a nuisance more than anything else and would be grateful if you would stop them."
She watched him struggle for a minute, to find words, to quell his anger, he could do neither.
His body jerked, his right shoulder mostly, and she knew what he had just held back from doing, and felt a grim smile break its way onto her features. Figures, that ultimately he would respond with all he truly knew, violence "You say you've changed… but it looks to me like you haven't at all, hell you've reverted, back to the Eragon I first met. So prone to violence, barely in control of himself, in control of his action. I wonder who I spoke to more back then, Eragon or Legion?" a bitter laughed escaped her, as did more words she shouldn't say, more words that would sting, more words that were true, but for how long? "If this is you, Eragon, then I guess Legion was your better half."
He looked at her with such anger, it was worse than any those monstrous eyes could ever produce, they at least had pride, dignity, monstrous power to back it up, anger that could rightly cause fear. This anger, this was like a kicked puppy, barking and growling pathetically, that's right, that was the word, pathetic. This anger was pathetic.
She regretted her words, no matter how true, she didn't want to see the man she had grown to respect this… this pathetic. It was saddening, that Eragon had been reduced to this, whatever this even was.
"I…" was she about to apologise for her words. She should, she knew she should.
"Go away."
But his words killed it in her throat, his pathetic, childish words. He was the one crying, and she felt like crying, because this was so… so goddamn pathetic.
"LEAVE!"
And so she did, Arya turned on her heel, and walked away from him, hearing every one of his sobs and pitiful moans for five minutes, until the music finally drowned him out. It was only then that she stopped, and started taking long deep breaths, to calm her rapidly beating heart. What had she just done? It was quite possible that she had just ruined everything, but what else was she to do? She should find someone tell them… tell them what?
Tell them that Eragon was a pathetic shell of his former self? Tell them that he had fallen to the point where harsh words and blows crushed him? Tell them that Eragon… was no longer a monster, but just a plain old garden variety human being?
'Arya.'
She felt herself shiver at the sheer rage in that low, rumbling voice, and turned to find herself face to face with a pair of sapphire blue eyes and ivory teeth.
"Saphira Bjartskular" she greeted formally, touching two fingers to her lips and speaking the customary lines. The line were not returned, and their altercation was noticed, as it was none to private. Arya felt vulnerable as many elves took note of Saphira tense posture and snarling teeth and tried not to be observed watching what would occur.
'Know that I would burn you for this…' Saphira told her, nay informed her 'Save that it would cause an affront between our two races. Know that it is only your position that saves you. Your blood. Know that you do not survive because of your own skill, because of your own strength, or because of your value to me, but because of your value to your species, because of whom your father and your mother were, nothing more.'
With those words, Saphira stalked past her, while Arya tried her hardest not to reveal just how much those words hurt.
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She found him, crouched next to a small stream, a very small one in fact. She could piss out bigger streams. But he crouched, staring at some rocks upon, and over, which the water flowed, forming a small waterfall, a monument of nature's immense beauty miniaturized to the point where…
Eragon's foot kicked away the rocks, ruining this tiny piece of perfection as he stood, looking up at the moon. She didn't have to look to know he was glaring at the great white orb in the sky.
"I'm fine" he told her before she could ask.
Saphira simply snorted 'No you're not…' it didn't matter what he said, he was not ok after that, no one would be, and she had felt first hand what he felt in response to what had occured. He was in way 'fine' 'Why would you do that Eragon? Why?'
Eragon laughed at her question "Because I am a fool, Saphira, why else" she could see the wetness on his cheeks, catching in the moonlight that silhouetted him. Making him a pitch dark figure stood in a pitch dark forest, with moonlight streaming around him.
She noticed it after but a moment, a moment passed before she could speak, another before she realised what she should say… more than a moment, as even when she spoke she didn't know what to say 'Eragon…'
"What?" he turned to her, to face her head on, his eyes crimson red and maddening to observe… and his long hair catching in the breeze, being thrown about like strands dyed with fresh blood "What's wrong, Saphy?" he laughed, a twisted smirked on his face, twisted, taunting, teasing "Whatever could be the matter, my dearest dragon?"
I'm staring uni soon, as in on Monday. So if this fic dies, and then I die, and then the world dies, you know what happened. Genuinely I don't know how much Uni is going to interrupt my fic-ing, probably a lot, as I did restart this because I was bored and had nothing else to do during the summer, I'll soon have stuff to do. So yeah, good luck.
Toodles.
