Arya decided that Haroldun needed a proper education on the abilities of the elven horses and decided to send him with an elven guide. Roran volunteered to join him. It was clear he had taken a liking to the young dwarf, and he much preferred his feet near the ground when possible. Dorzada followed Firnen and Saphira to the edges of the capitol, and Eragon removed their saddles. There was little space for them amongst the narrow trees that rimmed the city. Once freed of their burdens, the three dragons took off towards the crags to rest.
As Arya and Eragon approached the outskirts of Ellesmera, their path wound through the ancient forest, its magic growing denser as they neared the elven city. They knew they would have to pass by Gildrien the Wise, the ancient guardian who stood sentinel at the forest's edge, watching over all who sought entry into the sacred city.
Gildrien, a towering figure with eyes that shimmered like the leaves of the forest, stepped forward as the pair arrived, his gaze falling upon them with a mixture of recognition and curiosity. "Drottningu," he greeted Arya first, his voice deep and reverberating through the trees. "Shadeslayer," he added, inclining his head toward Eragon. "I see you have returned, though under new circumstances."
"Indeed," Arya responded, stepping forward. "We come with new purposes and old responsibilities, Gildrien. I seek to relinquish the throne, and Eragon comes to aid in the balance between our races."
Gildrien regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke, "The forest has whispered of your decision, Arya Drottningu. But it has also whispered of change—an uncertain future, where not all will accept this shift easily. Are you prepared to face such resistance?"
Arya met his gaze without hesitation. "I am."
Gildrien considered her for a long moment, then turned his attention to Eragon. "And you, Shadeslayer, Kingkiller, Ebrithil, who have already borne the weight of so many titles—are you prepared to bear another, as King Consort? Though you may bear it for little time."
Eragon sputtered a bit. The thought had never occured to him, but he supposed that is technically what he was until she had officially stepped down. "King Consort?" he asked. Well I suppose I am, but it's not a title that needs to be applied under the circumstances."
With a slow nod, Gildrien stepped aside, allowing them passage. "Then may the forest watch over you both," he said. "The future is a delicate thing, but the path you walk will be guided by the decisions you make today."
His words seemed as much a warning as a benign pleasantry.
As they passed by Gildrien, the ancient trees seemed to part for them, revealing the winding path that led deeper into Ellesmera. The city, hidden within the very heart of the forest, awaited them, and though Arya felt a deep connection to this place, she knew her role within it would soon change.
The familiar sights of the towering trees and the soft glow of the elven city greeted them as they entered. It was a bittersweet return, and Arya could already feel the weight of her decision settling more heavily upon her. Whispers and thoughts practically jumped out at them as they made their way to Tialdari Hall.
They wove through the city, greeted by elves who bowed in respect to Arya and acknowledged Eragon with surprisingly equal reverence. The journey was not yet over, but as they moved closer to Rhunon's forge and the Rider treehouses, there was a growing sense of finality in the air.
As they ventured further into the city, Arya felt the gaze of her people upon her more acutely. Their coupling and her decision to step down had spread quickly, and while many greeted her with the usual respect, there were subtle changes in their expressions. The uncertainty of her departure and the new leadership was palpable.
Before heading to Tialdari Hall, Arya led Eragon to Rhunon's forge. The ancient elven smith had always been a touchstone of wisdom for her, and she wanted to visit before diving into the complexities of court politics.
Rhunon, as usual, was already at work, her hands deftly shaping a new blade. She glanced up as Arya and Eragon approached but didn't stop her hammering. "So," Rhunon said, her voice dry, "the Queen steps down and with the Lead Rider by her side. I suppose there's no stopping time's march, even for elves."
Arya smiled faintly, used to Rhunon's sharp tongue. "I've come to ask your thoughts on the future of the Riders, Rhunon. Your wisdom is invaluable, as always."
Rhunon snorted softly. "Wisdom? Pah! I've lived too long, that's all. But I'll tell you this: the Riders need more than numbers. You know that as well as I. Balance is what's required. Balance, and clear minds to lead. I've no wish for my creations to betray their intent a second time."
She set the blade she was working aside, her piercing gaze landing on Eragon. "And you, Shadeslayer. Still training your whelps in Arngor, I take it?"
Eragon nodded, offering a smile. "More of them every year."
He wasn't sure he could keep up with the rate the order was expaning. Riders were needed across Alagaesia, and the lands beyond had yet to be explored, but he needed more of the riders in full to take an aprentice. Of the current total, Eragon had personally trained everyone except for Arya. He couldn't keep the pace with more, but the will of the dragon hatchlings was unpredictable at best.
Rhunon eyed Brisingr at his waist. "Give that here," she said.
Eragon obliged, carefully handing her the blade they forged together.
Rhunon swung the sword in a wide arc. Spinning, she attacked her imaginary foe with grace. Her form was perfection, but Eragon knew she didn't doubt the blades durability in the slightest. For her, Brisingr was an old friend she simply wished to see.
Rhunon grunted in approval before returning to her work, dismissing them with a wave. "Go on, then. I've work to do."
Arya exchanged a glance with Eragon as they left the forge, the weight of Rhunon's words settling between them.
Later, they made their way to the Rider treehouses. The space was familiar, nestled within the living trees of Du Weldenvarden. It felt like a homecoming, but for Arya, there was a bittersweet edge to it. She had never stayed in the spaces reserved for Riders. Soon, her role would shift, and the responsibilities she had carried for so long would pass to Dathedr.
"I'll meet with Dathedr alone first," Arya said quietly, her gaze focused ahead. "There are things I need to discuss with him, to ensure a smooth transition."
Eragon nodded in understanding. "Take your time. I'll handle things here."
Eragon worried that Arya would change her mind about stepping down. He knew his worries were irrational. He knew her, and once she said she was going to do something, she did it. He could tell they would meet much more opposition just from the thoughts of the elves around him.
As Arya disappeared into the heart of the city to meet with Dathedr, Eragon lingered by the treehouses, allowing himself a moment of reflection. He had changed so much since the last time he walked these woods. He walked up the stairs to Vrael's old quarters and Umaroth spoke.
"I scratched my scales against this tree long before you were born," Umaroth mused. "It's good to see it again."
"I remember the first time i stayed here," Eragon said. "I felt undeserving of the accomodations. Still, this tree hold many memories. My first magical shave, recovering from back spasms, and endless studying are the first things that come to mind."
The pair let their words hang in companionable silence. Over the years, Umaroth had shared so much of his life with Eragon that the two rarely needed many words anymore. He knew the deep sorrow the ancient dragon carried. It was admirable that he had never given into the temptation of joining Vrael in the void. The Riders relied on his widom far more than he cared to admit. Umaroth was one of the oldest sane eldunari left. He created the bridge between the riders of old and the new order. Without him, Eragon knew he would still be struggling to build Arngor even now.
POV Change
As Arya entered Tialdari Hall, she found Dathedr waiting, his expression thoughtful yet troubled. The hall itself, a living structure of woven branches and vines, exuded an ancient, serene energy that contrasted with the tension in the air.
"Arya Drottningu," Dathedr greeted, rising to his feet. "You have returned."
Arya nodded, taking a seat opposite him. "I've come to speak of the transition, Dathedr. It is time for me to step down, as we have discussed."
Dathedr's gaze hardened slightly, and Arya could tell he was grappling with something more complex than mere succession. "There is a complication," he began. "The Council has unearthed an ancient law, one few remember. It states that a ruler may not step down during a time of political instability or cultural shift without a majority consent from the Council of Elders."
Arya frowned, surprised. "And you believe this applies now?"
Dathedr nodded gravely. "With the increasing influence of humans and dwarves within our borders, and the growing tension regarding the mingling of races, some believe this constitutes a time of instability. They are calling for you to remain queen until these tensions subside."
Arya's mind raced, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "This law was meant for times of war and true unrest," she said, her voice steady. "Surely, they cannot invoke it now."
Dathedr sighed, leaning back. "They are using it as a tool to delay your abdication, to keep you tied to the throne. Some of the older families believe that only your presence as queen can hold the forest together during this time of change."
Arya narrowed her eyes. "You know as well as I that this is not about preserving the peace—it's about maintaining the old power structures. They fear what my departure symbolizes."
"Indeed," Dathedr agreed. "But their argument is rooted in tradition, and you know how difficult it is to sway the minds of those bound by centuries of custom."
Arya's gaze grew more intense. "We cannot allow them to dictate the future by clinging to the past. The elves must evolve, just as Alagaësia is evolving. If they wish to invoke this law, they must face the reality of the world outside Du Weldenvarden, which is largely at peace."
Dathedr met her eyes, admiration clear in his expression. "I agree. But it will not be easy to challenge them. They are determined to keep you in power."
Arya leaned forward. "Then we will challenge them together. They cannot stop what has already begun."
Dathedr nodded, a new determination in his voice. "Very well. We will gather the Council and address this matter head-on. But be prepared—there will be resistance."
Arya stood, her resolve unshaken. "Let them resist. They cannot hold back the tide of change."
As Arya and Dathedr continued their discussion, a deeper issue came to the forefront.
"It's not just the ancient law that troubles them," Dathedr admitted. "It's Eragon."
Arya's brow furrowed. "What about him?"
"By declaring him your mate, you've inadvertently elevated him to King Consort in their eyes. It may have been wiser to wait. Many of the elders believe that with Eragon at your side, the power of the elves will grow disproportionately compared to the other races. Some fear this will shift the balance in our favor and weaken the other races. Some welcome this."
Arya's expression darkened. "This is about power, then, not stability."
Dathedr nodded. "For some, yes. They see an opportunity to elevate the elves by keeping you on the throne with Eragon, the Lead Rider, as your consort. It's not about your leadership—it's about control and the appearance of superiority."
Arya's resolve only strengthened. "Then they underestimate my resolve. Eragon's place is with the Riders, and mine is no longer on the throne. The elves cannot cling to this old hierarchy. We are no better than them. We simply live longer."
Dathedr sighed, standing as well. "We'll have to be careful. They are watching every move, and some will not give up this idea easily."
"I've never been one to let fear control my actions," Arya said firmly. "I will not be their pawn."
As she left the hall, Arya knew the fight for her freedom from the throne was far from over. She had expected resistance, but she had never heard of this law. Her mother had always maintained that it was an honor to lead. It was never forced on someone. It appeared this law was in direct violation of those values her mother claimed elves held dear. She knew that idea was to be the source of her logic. Elves were obstinate, but you could always win them over with logic. Arya sighed, her head pounding from the overthinking that had begun as soon as Dathedr voiced his concerns.