Prologue

Líthvia had waited for that moment since she was a little child and her mother told her about her heritage. She came from a royal descent, of an important elven house. The fact that her father was human did nothing to erase the importance of her blood.

Her hand glided on the vines engraved in the iron of the gates. The Tialdarí Hall was just in front of her, waiting to welcome her into her rightful home.

"What are you waiting for?" Eric's voice startled her.

After a glance back toward her cousin, she gathered the words of the ancestral spell that protected the palace.

In a soft voice, Líthvia spoke, "Root of tree, fruit of vine, let me pass by this blood of mine."

By the magic of her blood, the gates unlocked with a quiet click, and her hand pushed it forward.

"Nice!" Eric exclaimed, already trying to walk pass her through the gates.

Líthvia extended her arm to stop him and inadvertently hit him in the stomach with the elven strength that she still had to learn how to control around her human cousin, even him being a Rider, therefore stronger than other men.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, but this is my home, I should go first."

Eric massaged his stomach while she stepped forward.

"It's not your home. You were born in Mount Arngor, there is your home."

"But my bloodline remounts to this place."

"And Carvahall. Do you call Carvahall your home as well? Because I don't!" He followed her through the gates and was marveled by the vines and flowers that grew on both sides of the pathway leading to the palace. It seemed well kept, even if nobody had stepped in that place in almost thirty years.

Líthvia shrugged as she would think about calling Carvahall her home in the future. Eric thought it was odd how Líthvia seemed so fascinated about all things concerning the elves. Once, she had confided in him how she thought her mother to be crazy for abandoning her throne. Of course, it had been ten years before, when she was only a child, but still, it was a strong opinion to give.

The magic of the place seemed to awaken her senses. She felt her palms tingling and a light buzz filled her mind. She knew exactly where to go.

When the doors to the old throne room opened inward, Líthvia could see, very clearly despite the dust that arose with the air rushing in, what she could have had if her mother hadn't renounced her royal lineage.

"Was it here where Aunt Arya used to keep the throne?" Eric said walking in, still marveled by the place.

Líthvia didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. She walked to the dais where the knotted throne used to be and stood where her mother once stood when addressing her subjects.

"This is my birthright, Eric."

"Líthvia… What are you saying?"

Again she silenced, but in her heart, she told to herself, One day… One day.


A/N.: Okay, let's do this!

I'm back! With a story that will not be as long as Of Poems and Maps but long enough to last a few months. I was wrong about predicting the size of my story in the past so let's just see how this one goes.

So, This Blood of Mine is set many years after Of Poems, and it will be clear exactly how many as the story progresses. Eragon and Arya will appear if you miss them, but they won't be the main characters as it's already clear.

I'm planning another story to go along with this one to tell about their adventures discovering the East, so stay tuned for that too.

Thank you in advance for the attention, and let's go!

P.S.: As always, I'm crossposting on AO3, if want to check it out, head that way and search for me or this story. It should be easy to find.