This is the continuation of Lirouratr
Rewritten 6/12/23
Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle
My apologies that this took so long! I wrote a good five chapters months ago, lost everything, and I was heartbroken about losing all that work. So I didn't write until someone nudged me. And please, feel free to nudge me over PMs if I don't update in a few weeks, I've got a lot on my plate right now and sometimes forget to write...
I don't have too much to say from here, so I'll let the story do the talking.
Let me know what you think, and as always enjoy,
Aftermath
It was strange how quickly one could adapt, Rose thought. In the days following the urgals' attack, it seemed to her that there was a great shift that happened within the Varden's people. She noticed the evening on the third day, that the streets had been cleared of the dead by people with herbal soaked clothes over their mouths and nose, to keep away infection, and the corpses were either buried in a valley outside the mountain or burned. In a mere few hours, the streets were cleared, the women and children returned to the warworn city, and the people fully acknowledged the loss. There was no weeping in the streets nor did the people wail their sorrows. Each parting within the rebellion group was no casual one farewell; for each parting, no matter how minor, could always be the last; and the people knew before the battle that anyone could be unlucky.
Without a chapel or priest for formal burials, the Varden's leader stood upon a wooden platform, the following morning, many of the surviving Varden gathered around him as he spoke. He honored the fallen soldiers with their last rites, before giving his gratitude to those who fought and lived. And when by unspoken consent, minstrels and bards brought out their instruments and sang beautiful epics of tender sorrow in a street square, the atmosphere seemed to lighten. That morning, the people paid tribute to the lives of the fallen; ate and joked and recanted stories before they went about their day and duties. There was no longer a formal mass of sorrow, if anyone would permit it to rise to the surface it was too hard to face, and life seemed to have taken on a vivid urgency, as if it were a beating heart that drummed into the marrow of their bones.
Rose pulled her cloak closer around herself and leaned against a cold, stone wall. She knew that, from where she stood, she would be unnoticed and so she allowed herself observe the group openly. Her eyes flittered to the minstrels' instruments, the movement a woman's skirt as she danced with her partner, and a grubby-faced toddler munching on roasted winter greens. These would be the people she would be aligning herself with, the same people who until a year ago, wished her dead. And though the Varden were unlike anything she could have imagined, it seemed to her as if it were some cruel trick from the gods and she thought them to be standing together laughing at her misfortune.
Her mind wondered to the capital, to the filthy streets streaming with people their eyes were not so different than the Varden's people, and then to those she saw whilst traveling the country. During her travels she had witnessed so much sorrow and pain and death, and she had found that everything that she thought she had learned was a falsehood. Whatever illusion that the king had placed upon his Court had fallen away, and she was left with an emptiness where her certainty had once stood strong. There was a sorrow… a yearning, that she knew no name for, that now seemed to be echo in the depths of her being.
As she watched, unease coiled within her like a viper rising to strike, its head dancing, and when it did strike for surely it soon would, the reality of her situation would come down on her. She was going to be ill. To fend off the oncoming attack, she began to name the notes the voil player was strumming and soon enough felt herself settle into the easy rhythm. The viper stilled and fell away vanishing completely. As it did, she turned away toward her current lodging, listening to the music trail after her, the simple ballad echoing against the stone walls and over the streets.
Rose found it easier to wander unnoticed about Tronjheim now that she dwelled within the city with Thorn. She could put on a hooded jerkin and mend into the crowd and became, for the first time in her life, completely invisible. It was an exciting feeling that rushed through her like a sea's breeze, and at first left her breathless and she wondered nearly every street and abandoned hovel she could find. She wished that she could remain that way forever but alas she often found that her destination arrived, as it did now, far too soon.
The Watch House was a wide stone tower which loomed over the gates, and was the only place within Tronjheim that the dragons could fit into. The dwarf who guided Rose and Thorn to the tower after their return from Kealii Valley had been distressed that she and Eragon would have to share the space but was quickly reassured when she stated that the pair were, indeed, siblings and had traveled in worse conditions. Afterwards Orik brought them to the tower and, handing her the key and after telling her that if she needed anything to ask for him, he quickly left. Rose went inside and explored the space finding that it held two unadorned rooms on separate levels, the one at the top of the tower would be impossible for either of the dragons to access, leaving the room on the second level to be shared for lodging. It was soon decided that they would bring the folding screen from Selena's apartment to divide the largest room when Eragon was well enough to stay there, so the dragons could be near their Riders. The second floor, which only held a table, a few chairs, and a lamp remained mostly untouched.
When she reached to top of the stairs, she found Selena seated on the edge of a window waiting. The woman's dark eyes were trained on her and the moment she stepped inside, Selena stood. Rose took a step back, surprised by how lithe she moved in the stiff leather armor she wore, how wild and fierce and alive her mother seemed within the confines of the stone room.
"You should join me tomorrow," Selena said, not pausing to greet Rose. "A small group and I are going to patrol some of the tunnels for urgals. It's nothing dangerous, merely a precaution but it might do you good to come."
Rose blinked at her and then slowly as if weighed down, she slowly tucked her hair behind her ear. "I would rather not, if it would make no difference to you."
"You've been holed up in here for days, its almost as if you think the Varden has taken you prisoner. Surely a short trek must be better than sitting in this tower," said the woman, coming forward to clasp Rose's hand. "The truth is; I have missed you sorely. Please, do me the honors of you joining me in the morn. It shan't take much of your time."
Before Rose could react, Thorn spoke in stoney tone, I will join her if you do not, even if I must claw the stone to make the tunnels large enough for me. And though, I do not like the idea of staying behind, it is time to end this. It has gone on long enough.
Rose's heart froze and she stole a secret glance at the dragon, who was forging sleep, but Thorn made no movement beyond the rise and fall of his chest. "As this seems so important to you, I shall join," she said speaking to them both. "Do I need armor if we're looking for urgals? I don't own anything other than chainmail, and Brom haven't received what's been made as of yet."
Thorn hummed in response and opened an eye blinkingly at her but it was Selena to said, "I have armor that I've outgrown over the years stored away somewhere. It's simple but well-kept and should fit you well enough. At the very least, it should remedy that problem."
Rose nodded, and the talk shifted to mundane subjects for a short time before the woman excused herself and left with the promise to meet with her come morn. After Selena left, Rose turned her attention to the minstrels playing in the streets, their complex music rippling through the still air of the cavern city and could be heard even from the tower. As they played, she became lost in her listening and her fingers ached for her viol but she didn't receive the instrument from her pile of belongs. The time of her playing had long ago passed and she didn't quite know how it happened.
Instead, she focused on the music playing and soon lost herself in its rhythms as her mind drifted, Rose's thoughts turned to Urû'baen once more. During this time of year, she would often sit at her window watching the fresh, pale garlands unfolded in the morning, as the sons and daughters of springtime proudly paraded their fresh shades of green and pale yellow and pink petals over the acres of the garden. And the tiny, colorful birds, returning from warmer lands, singing their songs sweet and low as they flittered from the blooming crape myrtle branches. The tender petals would break in the eastern wind, and abandoning their brethren, fall to the awakening garden below. Where fresh, green stems broke between dank dirt, reaching for the everglowing sun.
Springtime had always been one of her favorite seasons in the capital, and she had watched the world change from her window so often that it remained etched in her memories as if it were seen before her. She could not help but wonder at the memory. It was so different than her current situation as if were from a whole different world all together, and she wondered then what had become of her rooms. Had they been sacked after she had left, her dearest possessions ruined or given away? Had the blanket she had been forced to emborder as a child remained on the bed for whomever might take it the rooms over? Or perhaps the King left everything untouched, waiting for her to return? Rose was certain from the moment that she left that he sought after her return.
It had been nearly six months since she had left the capital, and though it felt as if it were a life time ago, she was surprised to hear so little about the King's doings and her status within his kingdom. Whatever it might be, her position should not influence the steps she was currently taking, yet she often found that it did, and that it mattered to her. She did not know how cautious she needed to be now, now after so much in her life had changed.
It had been a cold winter morning when Rose had been lost in the wilderness alone when Thorn had hatched for her. She had stood silently, completely and utterly terrified, as the hatchling broke out of his egg. The creature's hatching for meant that he had marked her as his Rider, and this was something that she had never wanted nor thought possible. In her fear and anger, she had shunned the young hatchling completely and often pretended that he did not exist. Thorn however, despite his small but rapidly growing size, proved that he was internally impossible to disregard and despite everything- despite her fear and resentment for what she might become because of him- soon an easy bond formed with the creature which grew deeper and stronger with each passing day. Rose learned later, from one of the lessons Brom led, that the bond between a dragon and its Rider was inevitable and felt a touch sour after hearing this, feeling that it was never a choice at all.
She learned too, during that session, that a dragon would only hatch for a person of its choosing, often sensing something within them that drew the hatching into the world. When Rose had asked Thorn about what liked him to her, he jokingly told her that he knew her to be an effortless target for his jesting but otherwise would not answer. And so whatever reasons the dragon had chosen to hatch for her, he kept to himself until such a time that he was ready to share. It was this attitude of his that often irked her, and she found herself wondering if he acted thus on purpose. Yet despite Thorn's levity, it was him who both comforted and challenged her in his easygoing yet persistent way.
Rose flinched thinking of how he had done so after Tornac's death and not long after when Selena, who at the time Rose only knew as an emissary called Ailis, admission that she was her mother. She had, and in many ways still was, confused about how she felt towards these events and had chosen, feeling too overwhelmed with her life's changes, to withdraw into herself completely. Tornac's death seemed to mark a great change in her life, before than he was one of the very few people she had dared to consider a part of intimate circle, and though unofficial as it might have been he was the closest figure to a father that she ever had. When he was killed, it was revealed to Rose that the family she thought was told was long gone was in fact very much alive- save her father who she often prayed would remain in his grave where he belonged. She learned of her brother, Eragon who was fathered by a different man, a former Rider named Brom, and about her family on her mother's side as well as how they lived and some of their history. It was a humble life, being a farmer in a small village, and it seemed to her so completely out of her depth of knowing and she pondered at the place where they stood now. What would her ancestors think of their standing when it so different then their roots?
With this knowledge came the harsh blow of the lies that her mother had woven to keep the truth from Rose during the year that they had known each other. While in the capital the woman had introduced herself as a widow named Ailis, not long after Rose's childhood caretaker had departed. In that time, Rose found herself trusting this woman and eventually chose to leave with her, away from a life she did not want, and towards the Varden, who Rose had grown up in fear of. That trust was borne on a lie as she later found out and she did not wish to remain in Selena's presence for long. Even now after a handful of months, she felt little better about doing so. Yet Selena was, as Thorn often reminded her, someone who she would dearly miss if she vanished from Rose's life now…
Her brother fell into the same category in her heart. Despite the fact that she struggled at times with the thought that she had a brother to begin with. Rose found that Eragon had endeared himself to her in a way that a thistle or leech might, if one took the time to allow such an incurrence. Once there, it became hard to remove.
Her gut twisted at the thought of her brother. It was Eragon had been injured in a battle between the Varden and The King's latest pawns by a Shade's blighted wound which had scared his back. Rose knew that his recovery from this would be slow if he ever truly recovered. The chances were slim, she had been told and knew that her brother would bear the scars of battle throughout his days but what this meant, no one knew as of yet. No one knew if he'd would be able to walk again, nonetheless hold his blade high against enemies.
Rose took a sharp breath, her heart beating rapidly, and turned to Thorn as he spoke, We'll adjust. Just as the two-legged ones here have adapted after their loss so shall we. She had forgotten that they were mindtouched and that he was aware of her thoughts. He grumbled deeply at her, his tail thumping against the stone floor. Saphira says that she believes he shall heal and fight once more though she worries the wound will change the manner in which he does so.
That's what worries me, Rose stated and wandered over to the small table she had been using as a desk. A pile of discarded parchment was scattered over the surface, the handwriting messy and nearly illegible. She looked them over with a frown. Eragon and Saphira met the Varden's wishes willingly, almost eagerly, and by doing so they lit a flame that had been dormant within the group for who knows how long. I fear that unless Eragon heals, they shall relay on us to keep it alight. I shall not play the part as Eragon did. I cannot. It would be a lie and would cruel, and I- she paused, straightening the papers with more force than necessary- I am not like them.
Thorn thumped his tail in silence for a long stretch of time be saying, It is time you talk to Selena. I do not believe that she would willingly remain here if she knew that the Varden knew of your existence and purposely kept it from her. There is more to that tale than either of us know.
Rose pulled her mind from his with a huff. If she talked with her mother about the matter, it would just grow her anger, and if she did not, then well… nothing would change.
A wave of quickly frustration grew inside her and she tossed the quill at the paper. Dark ink splattered against the pages ruining it, and with a curse, she turned towards her bed and sat on it dejectedly. She was so far out of her depths of understanding that she might as well be trying to teaching herself how to fly!
It won't make any difference, she thought. What's done is done, and I cannot rewrite history.
.
In the early hours of the next day, her steps led her the apartment Brom shared with Selena and after knocking, she stepped inside. The aroma of freshly baked bread, slight sweet and warm, filled the air and her mouth began to water. Rose swallowed, turning the kitchen were the Selena stood, cutting into a golden loaf. The woman glanced up at her briefly, placing a finger against to lips and pointing, as if to tell her be quiet, towards Brom who was seated on the couch. His breathing was deep and even. He didn't look up at her when she entered as he normally would, and she thought that he was asleep.
Quiet as a mouse, Rose went to the table and sat down, glancing at the papers and maps that were lain out briefly before looking again at Selena. Her mother walked over, the warm loaf of bread wrapped in a linen cloth, and set it in the middle of table, coving most of the map.
"Did you sleep at all?" she quietly asked, settling herself into a chair.
Rose took the heel of bread and tore off a piece of it, popping it into her mouth. It was sweetened with dried berries and nuts, and she felt as if she had been wrapped in a warm blanket during a cold winter day. "Not really," she said, relaxing into her seat.
Selena frowned, taking a piece of bread for herself, before asking, "What's been on your mind?"
Rose looked down at her hands, and tore apart another piece of the bread, frustration bubbling inside her. Hoping to push it down, she shoved the bread into her mouth. She chewed slowly, wanting the bread to last as long as possible.
"You're eating like a squirrel," Selena said humoredly after some time. "If it's about the treaties then I think that you're thinking too hard, Rose. Don't seek perfection; it just needs to get done. Perfecting them can come later."
"Nothing is worth doing unless it's done well," Rose countered, swallowing. "When are we leaving?"
"After we eat and see how the armor fits." Selena stood with a sigh, and said, "There's salted salmon in the basket should you want it. Once you clean up your dishes, you may join me."
Rose watched as the woman walked to the divan and picked up a long and dark cloth draped over the back, before heading toward the small bed chamber in the back of the hovel. She shoved the last piece of bread into her mouth and then stood to place the worn earthen plate in the washbasin before following her mother. Once inside the small room, she shut the curtains behind them and turned around.
Selena had everything folded carefully on the bed, and when Rose came into the room, the woman carefully held out a chainmail tunic, as if they were something precious, and told her to put it on. Rose touched the chainmail and realizing that it would be a tighter fit than the pair she had within her pack, she drew off her jerkin and thick tunic, leaving on her thin under-shirt. Carefully, she put on the chainmail, and turned to Selena.
The woman hummed and, after telling her turn around, she adjusted the slack around her waist with a leather thong. Once satisfied, Selena had her put her tunic back on and showed her how to put on a long, scaled waistcoat, it was made of a thick leather so soft that Rose had no name for it, and she could see no sign of a seam. It was either stitched with marvelous skill or had been magicked into one piece. She touched the dark leather, her heart pounding, and then with a deep breath, pulled on a long overcoat which was made of a lighter material but was just as study. When the ties were tightened, she pulled on the greaves. They similar to the pair Selena had given her in the wilds.
"You can wear a dress beneath it as well, if it please you, though I never had," said Selena tightening ties at the shoulders. "The overcoat is meant for modesty and a little added protection. Since I know that modesty is something that troubles you with your current wear, I'm sure you'll get more use out of it than I ever did. It certainly suits you much better than it ever did me."
Rose touched the armor once more, her stomach uneasy. "It looks like whomever made it did so with much care. Where did the gear come from, exactly?"
Selena turned her around and met her eyes steadily. "It was a gift and I wore it only briefly after I came to the Varden," she said.
"That's not what I asked," Rose whispered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The knot in her stomach tightened. "Was it a gift from Morzan?"
"Morzan didn't give gifts, and if he did, they were never the kind you'd want." Selena muttered with a frown, "Now, you'll want to leave your sword here, the passages are too narrow for it to be any real protection. A dagger or dirk is much more appropriate."
Rose set her sword aside unenthusiastically. She was not as familiar with knives as she was her sword. And though Selena had taught her how to use a dagger, she had only ever used the blade for mundane tasks but never defending herself. Not liking her odds should a fight come, she took the wicked-looking dirk Selena handed to her and followed her out of the dwelling.
.
When the third bell of the morning rang, the group made their way towards the outer skits of the stone city, where there was a system of caverns that led into the heart of the mountain region. A small group had gathered there and was chatting inconsequentially, their voices raising above the chatter of Tronjheim. As they neared the two men looked up and looked them over with curious faces, who Selena introduced as Angus and his son, Emil.
"Yeh honor us greatly by coming, Argetlam," Angus said with a shift bow while his son continued to openly stare at her, his pale eyes wide.
Rose met his stare with a frown, and after a short moment, turned to the older man. "It is an honor to join," she said forcing a small smile. "Ailis has told me of your ventures together during our travel together. From what I've heard you and your unit are quite skilled." This was a lie, Selena had only mentioned them briefly and that was but a mention mere moments before.
Angus leaned back on his heels, glancing between Selena and her. "I can see that tales wasn't the only thing Ailis shared. She taught yeh honeyed words as well, not that I'm eh complaining," he said sounding rather pleased. "Did she tell yeh about the faceless creature we fought? At the very least it was faceless when we were done with the beast!"
When Rose said that she hadn't, Angus seemed to take it as permission to retell the tale as the group roamed the cave system. She half listened to the man, nodding out of politeness whenever she noticed his eyes drift to her. After an immeasurably long time Angus fell silent, and the group walked the route dourly, seeing little of interest.
Certainly, the urgals were long gone, Rose thought as they reentered the city however this thought went unsaid. When she was invited to join the following morning, she agreed to come. The remainder of that day she roamed the library before stepping into the Healing Halls to check on Eragon, who at the time was sleeping. She examined her brother for any sign of ailment and seeing none, silently promised to return the next day.
Rose did return that next day after she wandered the tunnels with the small crew, and saw this time that her brother was awake. "The smell of food woke me up," he mumbled sheepishly in way of greeting. "There is none and the healers won't let me leave to get something. I'm starved."
"You are sorely out of luck," she told him, stepping into the room. "I've got nothing on me but a dagger but I doubt that sounds appetizing."
Eragon gave her a dry look, before leaning back and closing his eyes, within moments he was asleep. As soft, even breathing echoed throughout the room, Rose sat in the wooden chair beside the bed and looked him over. Nothing had changed, his face was still flushed and dark circles were etched under his eyes, even in sleep he appeared to be exhausted. His strength seemly had been destroyed in the fight against the Shade and there was no hint of when it might return.
.
It was a week before Eragon found the strength to remain out of the bed for a whole day. Even so, he had put up a fuss about being moved from the private room within the Healing Halls, voicing that it wasn't right that he should remain there when there were others who had more grievous injuries and could make more use of the room than he could.
After a stern examination by one of the Halls' head healers, he was permitted to leave so long as he promised to rest, and he slowly made his way out to the widest tower within Tronjheim that he would share with Rose and the two dragons. On his walk over to the tower, Eragon had to stop every few yards, and by the time they were halfway there, his body was visibly shaking. It was likely by Saphira's insistence that he ended up climbing onto the dragon's back and she flew him the rest of the way. For the rest of that day, he remained in bed and slept.
Eragon didn't argue about his enforced rest after this, seemingly satisfied with being out of the Healing Halls. And in truth it was a welcome respite after the hardships of the previous months; for a short time, he allowed himself to forget his troubles and would often be found with a book on his lap as he silently sounded out the words as those still learning to read often did. His skills in literature had massively improved in the time he had spent in Tronjheim, and he often found himself enjoying the new subjects he was reading, drawn into the words like a moth to the flame.
Brom, Selena, and Arya were frequent visitors, and Rose spent many hours in their room, talking or writing on scraps of paper or just reading quietly behind the screen that divided their space. She felt that there was a reluctance to leave, and soon the two of them discovered a pleasant camaraderie when together. Rose was taking advantage of the enforced idleness to plunder the library, searching for any further information of the treaties the Riders once held or of any expired accords that the dwarves might have hidden - she had thought that if she could find examples of contracts or truces that she could learn from them- but so far without any luck. The dwarves' jealousy held onto their governmental matters and kept them hidden away in some deep, dark hole only they knew about. Feeling disheartened, she would sometimes return with a book of poems or stories and either hand it Eragon or read it aloud just for the pleasure of it.
When Eragon felt his strength beginning to return at last, he would speak to Rose of the battle and later about the treaties, which she believed would ease some of the tension between the dragons, their Riders, and the Varden and their allies. Eragon told her about the moments before the battle and how Brom had stood in front of him weaving and teaching spells of protection, and after he was certain that Eragon was well protected, he left to take control of a small rank of soldiers and archers. That day seemed to a blur of scenes of gore and pain and loss that painted the stone walls of Tronjheim, and he attempted to describe it before stopping, the words catching in his throat as he found that he couldn't continue any further.
Instead he told her of the ferociously that the dwarves fought with; of how the armor Saphira had been given was damaged and how she had breathed fire; of Selena running over the rooftops of building weaving magic and weaponry like an artform, and of seeing Nasuada defying her father's orders and planting herself within the ranks of the archers; of Arya and her deathly dance of the blades; how the elf and Saphira destroyed that Isidar Mithrim to stop the Shade from killing him, and lastly he spoke of how Durza invaded Eragon's being after he was slain and the memory of the Cripple Who was Whole.
Rose listened in silence; her eyes focused beyond him out the darkened window. It was late into the night, and she found that they had been talking for quite a long time. "I don't know what words to offer you, Eragon," she said sometime after he finished. "I cannot begin to understand the terrors of the battle. Even so, I know what it's like to watch those around you fall to a terrible end and not be able to do anything to help them, and to have enemies at every corner who desire your death… perhaps it is something like that."
Eragon looked his question but she shook her head at him unwilling to talk about it. "I think I understand a little now about why you didn't want to fight," he said instead. "I still believe that you and Thorn could have made a huge difference but I won't lie, we were almost killed."
"I'm not afraid of death if that's what you're thinking," Rose told him, leaning against the wall. She met his eyes as he leaned forward on the bed, giving her a vague gesture to continue. It was something that he had recently picked up from their mother and she was surprised to see it come from him. "The gods know that I've almost been killed enough times that the fear of death is long faded though I do not desire it. I do wonder what it would be like to pass through the veil, and I cannot help but question at what might lay beyond and whether it is indeed a place of light and glory. Yet, even if it is not, and the tales are wrong and there is nothing but pitch and cold, I don't fear it."
Eragon frowned at her from across the room. "Then why?" he asked not unkindly. "Why would it be so hard to fight with the Varden? I don't understand. If we're to be united in this-" he gestured vaguely around them "-I need to, at least, know why. You say that you aren't a warrior and neither am I but I have to keep learning and at least I'm willing to become what I must!"
Rose fought a wave of anger and instead closed her eyes, mulling over how to best answer his question that wouldn't lead into an argument. In the last months she had found that getting into a row with Eragon was extremely easy as the two of them saw most experiences in a vastly different light which made baiting the rise out of him effortless. And though it could be entertaining to argue with her brother, it was tiring as well, if only because of the hostility that plagued their interactions and conversations long after the actual dispute itself.
"From what you told me about Carvahall many people are not fond of the King, and I'm willing to bet that if the push ever came that they would openly defy him?" she said at last, her tone bitter, and she scowled as she opened her eyes to see Eragon nod in confirmation. "It would be easy to say that I was not raised like that. It was quite the opposite. The children of the inner capital grew up within the King's reach, and knew of both the kindnesses and the horrors which could take place. Galbatorix displayed himself as a devoted king who protected his people and more so those within his Courts yet, it wasn't uncommon to see public punishments for those who dared to openly disobeyed him. Could you imagine what it would have been like if our roles were switched? If you had grown up within Urû'baen under the roof of a man who found the ordinary and meaningful things in life inconsequential? I believe that people are merely a passing thing to him, something he fits to use as he pleases with little regard to who they are and what it might mean for them."
Rose fell silent and walked over to the cushioned chair beside Saphira. The dragon had her eyes closed but was kneading the ground with her claws indicating that she was very much awake and listening. Eragon sat thinking over what she had just said, and after a moment he glanced at her. "You're afraid of Galbatorix and what he will do if you fight," he concluded finally. "I never thought about things that way. But if he thinks you dead, why would it matter? He wouldn't know it was you at first, would he? I doubt he could do anything to you if you're not there."
She hesitated, taking her time to sit in the chair, before answering, "Even if that's true, there are people within his reach who matter to me very much. I don't know for certain that he believes me died or if he merely spread the word to make my sudden disappearance from his stronghold less of an oversight. I did not wish to admit it to Brom and Ailis but the rumor of my death troubles me. He wished to use me as his vessel, Eragon, have I told you this?" He shook his head from where it was hidden within his hands. "The King wished to train me up to be something of what our mother was. He believed that I as Morzan's and Selena's daughter would have something of their talents and would succeed where others have failed his training. I was given a moon cycle to answer his request though I was able to put it off another two weeks after making myself ill enough that I was put on strict bedrest for a time and then another few days by refusing to sleep."
For a moment Eragon was completely still, and then slowly his shoulders began to shake and he let out a brief laugh. "That sounds like defiance to me," he said after he calmed. "Did he ever get his answer?"
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "I was merely trying to delay the inevitable but no, he did not get his answer. By the time we were supposed to meet again, I was in the woodlands far from his hold," she told him.
"I would have left too," he muttered, humor still in his voice. "I'm glad you left Urû'baen, and that my only sibling isn't a pawn for Galbatorix. I would hate for us to have to be at opposite sides of the battlefield. That is, if you could be forced to fight."
"As would I," she stated with a grin. "And I would rather not have to find a way to outmaneuver and distract you enough to steal away your sword, just to be vindictive."
Eragon glanced up her uncertainly and, seeing that she was smiling playfully, he relaxed. "Would you really use Zar'roc or just take it to leave me without a weapon?" he asked, and when she merely shrugged, he shifted uncomfortably. "I think that I would like to add something to prevent that from ever happening in those treaties you mentioned."
"I truly don't wish to ever wield that blade, Eragon. I don't believe my stance on that shall ever change," she said gravely, her smile now gone. "As for the treaties, I believe that they are necessary. I've seen alliances fail between parties and I worry that will mean for all of us. You should also know that I do not nor will I trust the Varden and I believe you shouldn't either. While you were in the Healing Halls Brom and I talked quite a bit on this subject and he mentioned that Ajihad has done a great deal to keep the direct sway of influence away from us but if he were gone, should anything happen to Ajihad, do you not think that they could very well make either of us swear fidelity? I half expected Ajihad to do so the moment we arrived, if I'm being honest."
Eragon was silent for a moment. "I wish that I had been a part of that conversation. But this is why you think that we should write the treaties, isn't it?" he asked. "If you don't trust them what makes you think that there will be anything stopping someone from breaking the treaties? There's no guarantee that they will work. They could fail just as easily as they could succeed."
Rose blinked at him, finding that she was unsure of what to say. It seemed to her that they could very well fail and she and Thorn would be back to where they currently stood, unwilling to completely align themselves with any one organization without a safeguard.
Brom had told her that when The King and the Forsworn led their assault, the old treaties were technically broken. Even so Vrael had rallied the Riders and a number of their allies together that in such a way that the words stood true until the Broddring Kingdom had completely fallen and Galbatorix crowned himself king and rose the Empire from its ashes. At the time of the tales telling, Eragon had been fast asleep and Brom and Rose had left for the tower to speak over the matter. Brom had given her as much information and history as he deemed necessary but otherwise, he seemed to have left the subject of the treaties for her to work out with Eragon, choosing to guide them but otherwise to involve himself as little as possible.
"Treaties have always been enough to sway those seeking power to do so in a less direct form, and though I do not know what that will look like for us, I do believe it to be necessary," said Rose. "I don't wish for us to repeat all the Rider's past actions though I wish to learn from them."
Eragon nodded, his eyes distant as if his mind were far away, and then after a long time, he said wryly, "Saphira and I think that you might be right about this and we would like to help. I think that it would better with we all worked on it together instead of just you so that it's not one sided when it's presented to Ajihad."
"That would be best," she agreed. "To be truthful, I'm not certain where to start. I'm as much as a novice in this field as you are, Eragon. I've learned some governmental matters and how to handle them however political actions and policymaking are well beyond what I know. The life I had been raised for simply forbid it. Nonetheless, I've done quite a bit of research and have taken notes, not as much as I would like, mind you. If you wish me to, I'll bring them to you, that is once I gather as much as possible, until then I have the book which mentioned the subject."
Eragon agreed to this and after Rose handed him the large tome, she had studied within Kealii Valley, the two went about their own business. The matter of the treaties did not come up again until Eragon could stay out of bed for a whole day, and his recovery began to progress rapidly, and the two of them sat at the small table to read what Rose had gathered and they began to get to work. They both knew that they would soon be leaving for Du Weldenvarden and could not afford to dally. Despite the sense of urgency, Rose refused to call the proposal complete, instead staying up late into the darkest hours of night editing until at last she was certain that it could be deemed presentable and held no errors.
When she thought the draft passable, or as close as they were going to get it, Rose and Eragon showed the papers to Brom, as he was the only person who they knew who had dealt with such matters in the past, and waited as he read it over. When he finished, he glanced between the two of them and gave his critiques. Which were many and Rose began feeling overwhelmed. It was his suggestion that she use her given name that got her into a heated argument with him, she was worried that by signing with her name that it may cause strife for her within the Varden.
"Your proper name is Muirgheal," Brom said stubbornly, his mouth set in a determined line. "The Varden and whoever else will be agreeing to the treaties will see as forfeit if you signed under an alias. You don't have to use whatever ridiculous titles you might have been given in Urû'baen, they don't matter here but you need to use your given name."
Finally, Rose sighed and agreed. She had hoped that she wouldn't need to sign the proposal at all and could avoid having to give herself away completely. It had been peaceful to remain within the Varden anonymously, and though she knew Ajihad and the dwarven King knew of her identity, it occurred to her that would likely take the requests to their counsels and inner leaders who likely did not even know she was here. It was entirely unpredictable how they might respond. Worry seized her, and she found it difficult to concentrate on what else Brom had to say but she knew that after whatever fixes were needed that the documents would be enough to suffice.
For now, it was nothing more than a proposal for a treaty which would to be sent off to the Varden and their allies to be reviewed and then either agreed upon or denied. After this the true work would begin but by that time, the Riders and dragons would be within Du Weldenvarden undergoing whatever training they were meant to do with the elven people. It was likely that they would have a respective help work through the details and then both Riders and Dragon would return to examine and sign the finished documents with the other leaders. This was the route Brom had suggested, and Rose and Eragon along with the dragons, could think of no better course of action.
And so, several days after showing the draft to Brom, Rose found herself awake late into the night, studying the signed parchments lain out before her before rolling each of them and carefully tying each off with a ribbon. Knowing that she didn't have a seal, she carefully dropped wax onto the four scrolls and placed a stem of dried lavender, which she usually used for tea, into the wet wax and gently blew on it. Once the wax had cooled, she inspected each of them carefully and then set them into the woven basket on the ground beside the desk and touched the ribbons on each scroll. It seemed to her to be poetic to use the ivory ribbons which she had worn within the capital.
She stood up, moving the basket onto the chair, and held back her hair as she blew out the candle. Blinking in the sudden darkness, she fumbled towards her bed and fell onto it. The rest of the night she drifted in and out of a restless sleep and woke early that morning feeling as if she hadn't slept at all. Still in the drags of sleep, she debated remaining in bed but the sounds of Eragon's boots shuffling against stone flooring roused her and, pulling the blanket around her shoulders, she peeked around the side of the folding screen.
Eragon stood in front of Saphira, his hand on her snout, as he looked over the cavern city through the large opening. The blue dragon blinked, one of her eyes turning to Rose and Eragon turned as well and said, "Good morning! How did you sleep?"
She blinked at him and pulled the blanket closer to her. "Well enough, I suppose," she told him. "I finished the final touches on the proposals, if you would like to bring them to Brom with me."
He nodded and turned away looking over the awaken streets, giving her as much privacy as he possibly could in the room they shared. Rose quickly ducked back behind the screen, mindtouching Thorn to wake him and dug through her bags, pulling out simple clothing for the day. There were often days she wished for finer clothes, to own garments that were not made of roughly spun cotton or linen, as she once possessed within the capital. The clothes she wore now, were made for men and boys and even after the months of wearing them, she felt self-conscience. While traveling the wilds, she could disguise herself under a hood or boy cap but in Tronjheim there was little room for such deception. It was as if parts of what made her a woman; lovely and strong yet delicate were being stripped away.
You didn't sleep well, the dragon stated after she finished dressing and was carefully placing the scrolls inside of a rucksack. Do you care to share what kept you awake?
To answer him, she held up one of the proposals for him to see before placing it too inside the sack. I was ruminating about silly things, she said, and when sleep wouldn't come, I decided to work to keep my mind busy.
Thorn grumbled in response and stood to make his way over Eragon and Saphira. After a moment, Rose followed, running her hands over her hair to calm any stray pieces. She had decided leave her hair in that plaits she had done late in the night, which she now twisted together and tied off with a scrap of leather.
Once she could delay no longer, she called to Eragon and the pair of them began to make their way down the staircase to the courtyard below. The dragons stayed behind so that the siblings could slip into the crowd without much commotion.
In the early hours of morning, there were but a few people roaming the streets, mainly guards retiring from their shifts and women eager to start their day. No one noticed as two hooded figures exited the guard tower and wondered to a more deserted side street. It was part of the mountain city that was abandoned long ago, when the dwarves' numbers began to dwindle, and soon those that remained spread throughout the tunnels or to different cities.
The apartment sat squatly in the shadow, a single iron lantern lit on the landing outside the door welcoming the siblings to come inside without heed. Even so, Eragon knocked before opening the door and walking inside. Rose paused in the doorway, checking over the proposals and after taking a deep breath, she found that she could delay no further and followed.
Brom nodded at her in greeting. He was pounding dough into shape in the kitchen nook, looking for all the world as he would rather be sleeping still. Beside him, stood Selena chopping bits of nuts and dried berries into tiny pieces. "You two are up early," she said, not looking up. "I was actually hoping that you'd join me in the tunnels again, Rose."
Rose agreed without hesitating. Their trips to the tunnels had become routine and been uneventful, and she found that she enjoyed having a reason to explore. Each time they took a cavern that would lead somewhere new and strange or sometimes nowhere at all but whatever path they took, beyond them, no one else was there. Where ever the urgals had gone, they hadn't stuck around the mountain city, and she feared running into them no more.
"When do you plan on leaving?" Eragon asked, his face downcast.
"Within an hour or so," the woman replied. "You really aren't missing much, Eragon. It will be short and uneventful. Its best that you stay here where you can rest."
"I'd rather be useful," he muttered, flopping onto a wooden chair dejectedly.
"If you really want to be useful, knead this dough," Brom grumbled tossing the dough at Eragon, who fumbled to catch it, before wiping his hands on the towel. "Finished your proposals, I take it?" Rose nodded, reaching into her basket and handing him the paper she hadn't sealed. The old man snatched it and as he read it over, he sank down in the chair. When he finished reading, he handed the parchment back to her, and looked between them the Riders. "Good enough. I can take the scrolls to Ajihad if all them are the same. I have a meeting with him this evening. He'll likely want to meet with you two and the dragons before we leave in the next weeks."
Rose nodded and shoved the proposals towards Brom and with that action, she let go of what she truly desired. She had feverishly hoped she could remain as natural as possible, and had run faster down that path, stretching out her arms further, reaching out, grasping at the air. Praying to the gods, that whatever it was she was reaching for would brush against her fingertips. Yet, it never did. Even so she did the very same the next day and next one until Galbatorix had declared war by sending the urgals into the dwarves' home, their prized city, to raze it to the ground. It was in the dawning of that battle that it occurred to her that she could not continue to reach out in hope for eternally, just as she couldn't reach into the past and make the world anew. The treaties were not what she wished for and yet they could very well be the only thing that would protect what autonomy she had left.
Thorn's knowingly brushed against her mind. I am honored by you, his voice revealed. You and Eragon have worked hard but no one has put as much effort into this as you. All will be well, my Rider.
And if we're wrong?
She felt him flick his tail against the stone flooring of the tower. We are not. Trust me.
Rose nodded. We'll talk when I return, she said and pulled her mind slightly away from Thorn. Hoping to mask her unease, she turned to Eragon. "Do you mind teaching me how to do that?" she asked pointing to the dough.
Eragon nodded and scooted his chair over, inviting her to join him at the table. They spent the remainder of the early morning, kneading bread until it was smooth and yellow as pale straw. It was peaceful in its own way and Rose soon forgot about her troubles until time came for her and Selena to leave. As they passed under the doorway, Rose peeked back at Brom who was beginning to tell Eragon a tale of lad who lived on a cliff by the sea and longed to see what lay beneath the waters but didn't hear much beyond that. When the door closed, it cut off the rest of tale, and she would never find out how it ended.