_Diamond Cut Diamond_
Chapter Nine: First Star to the First and Straight on 'Til Morning
"We're going to Ellesmera, Thorn."
"So I heard."
Murtagh sighed. "No, you don't understand. We are going to a city full of elves vastly more powerful than ourselves, who hate us beyond belief."
"It's taken you some time to realize that." Thorn's answer was not sarcastic; it was merely his accurate observation. Murtagh sighed.
"Well, seeing as I have…Nasuada's mad. She wants me dead. That is the only reasonable explanation."
Thorn's tone was dry. "No she doesn't; she just doesn't have another option."
"Arya's been on our side for so damn long. I don't actually need to be there."
"Eragon said she did the same thing when the dwarves were picking a new king. And she has a point. You know the Varden's interests. Not to mention, I agreed to transport her."
Murtagh sighed again, mentally going over the meeting, Nasuada's request to Thorn, her outline of everything she wanted Arya to state in her address to her people, what to do if it looked as if Arya was losing, et cetera.
Murtagh was in the dragonhold, as usual. He hated the corridors of the castles and his quarters, and in the city, he attracted too much attention. The dragonhold, however was relatively unoccupied. Shruikan was quiet, sleeping or awake, no one could tell. Oddly, Murtagh didn't mind his presence. They were in much the same frame of mind, and neither disturbed the other.
"So, Nasuada's basic theory is to attempt to control the election of any monarch in Alagaesia. She can be frighteningly efficient."
"Someone needs to be."
Murtagh agreed. He sighed.
"This is going to be…interesting."
Arya sat in her tent, taking deep breathes.
"Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—"
And counting, counting because you could never get to a point where there were no more numbers. They were infinite. You could rely on them.
"—thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight—"
And numbers didn't care about you; they were solid rock that didn't have emotion. They followed certain rules, they never deviated. Learn them and you could do amazing things. They didn't act different ways for different people. They were what Arya aspired to be.
"—Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four—"
But that was deeper psychoanalysis than was really needed. Arya counted because it kept her sane. It was simple; it was something to concentrate on. She screamed the numbers in her head to forget the dying faces of
"—Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight—"
Soldiers, but also
"—seventy-five, seventy-six—"
Glenwing and
"—Eighty, eighty-one—"
Faolin, and to drown out Durza's vouce which echoed around her head, bouncing off the walls of her skull, as she tried to force herself not to remember
"—ninety-five, ninety-sixe, ninety-seven—"
Not only what everyone praised her for enduring, the pain that had made her cry like a child and want it to end end end
"—One Hundred—"
But the shameful things that Arya refused to tell anyone, that she knew everyone suspected, knew when they looked at her, made her want to rip her skin off.
"—One hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three—"
But breathing and numbers kept out all the images. So had studying in the library but that was silly, she could study anywhere but nowhere else was as secret and silence and safe
"—One hundred and eleven, one hundred and twelve—"
Gone, and it was her fault, and maybe Murtagh had needed it like she had, no one knew what was underneath a sane exterior
"—one hundred and twenty—"
And she was going home, oh hell, she was going home. Of all places that made Arya feel sick and scared and ashamed, she was going home.
"Arya?" Murtagh knocked again on the tent pole.
Murtagh sighed. "Where the hell would she be? We talked to Nasuada yesterday, we're leaving early in the morning to avoid the storm coming, everything was set. Damn elves."
"Elf, are you in there?"
No response. Murtagh, disliking the idea of risking his mental security around an elf, cast out mentally for Arya.
She wasn't in the tent. Murtagh cursed.
"Lovely.
"She'll probably be back in a minute or two. She could have gone to do something."
"Or she's complaining to Nasuada about being in close proximity to me for a few days of flying, and camping, and all sorts of awkward things."
"She's not that immature."
Murtagh was surprised at how perceptive the dragon was becoming.
"You're probably right. Still—"
"Murtagh?"
Murtagh spun around a bit faster than necessary.
"Damn…silent…elves."
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry, I had to fetch something. Are you ready?" Arya reached into the tent and pulled out a small bag.
"Yes, for the past hour. Thorn's over in the glade they keep clear for take-offs and landings."
Arya nodded. She cast out her mind. "Thank you for agreeing to bear me, bjartskular."
"You are welcome," replied Thorn, slightly unsure, because who had ever thanked him before?
"And you, rider, for coming with me to make sure I win the throne."
Murtagh's lips twisted into a smile. "Thank Nasuada. Though I do not know how much influence I will have."
"Enough, Elves respect riders. And, unlike humans, we understand the power of true names."
"I also killed your…I killed Oromis and Glaedr."
"Glaedr will be explaining much of that," Arya unconsciously adjusting the strap of her bag. "Do not expect a warm welcome, but do not expect a knife in your back either."
"Comforting," said Murtagh.
They reached the dragon, and Murtagh's first impulse was to help her up onto Thorn. Then, he realizedshe was an elf, and her graceful leap was going to make him look clumsy by comparasion.
"Sometimes, I hate elves."
Arya inhaled deeply and Thorn crouched low and began to run, ready to take off.
Thorn leapt into the air, and Murtagh realized his first similarity with Arya. They both loved flight.
I want to make one thing very clear. While I believe Arya could not have avoided rape while in Durza's hands, I want to be respectful of those who have gone through such a horrible experience.
Therefore, while she will suffer certain effects, I will not go into detail because I do not know enough to create a realistic (and by extension, respectful) view of the subject.
On a happier note…I UPDATED. What the Frodo?
Is it sueish that Murtagh's going with her on Thorn? It's the same principle as Eragon going to oversee Orik's coronation, and the dragon is there for logistics.
