They finished eating and excused themselves. Gisa graciously helped extricate the pair from the rest of the family, and she extended an offer to host them in Tarnag when Haroldun's training was complete.
Eragon and Arya returned to the dragon hold to get some sleep before the next day of The Games.
Saphira and Firnen had met with Dorzada and Jadis in the dragon hold while Eragon and Arya ate with Haroldun and his family. Dorzada could speak some, but the pair mostly communicated with him through images.
They showed him Arngor, Ellesmera, and Ilirea. He seemed mesmerized by the images and wanted more of them. Saphira showed him the wild dragons, hatchlings, other riders and bonded dragons, caves, and many more wondrous sights including her first memories of Carvahall and Eragon. Firnen showed him how those cities had changed over the years, and he tried to impart a little about each of the different kinds of two-legs. The latter part was difficult with Dorzada not always understanding the concepts and feelings he was trying to impart through images. When they were certain he understood the choice he must make with Haroldun, they left the hatchling with Jadis and flew to find another meal. Saphira's appetite was definitely higher than usual, requiring them to hunt at least once a day.
Firnen didn't mind though. He had waited for his mate for what felt like his whole life, and now he could spend the rest of his days hunting with her. The poem Eragon had sent gave him joy when Arya first read it to him. The line about her taking no other had him triumphantly roaring throughout Ellesmera.
Then the two-leg pointy ears and their politics had prevented his Emerald Eyes from doing what she longed to. For years he resigned himself to being the loneliest dragon alive. Living apart from his kind had taken its toll, and now he basked in Saphira's presence like she was the sun. She was everything: fierce, stunning, and sharp.
He sent Saphira feelings of gratitude, and she returned them in kind. He spotted a herd of deer then, and they sped towards dinner.
After catching a few deer in their talons and quickly ending them, Saphira and Firnen landed on a grassy hill that was backed by the massive Beor Mountains. She began devouring her meal as Firnen picked out the organs of his own kill for Saphira. It was important that she get extra nutrients as a new mother, and it was Firnen's job to provide them. He proudly presented her with two livers and hearts. She hummed her thanks to him, licking his snout with affection.
The pair rarely spoke unless necessary. Theirs was a silent companionship. As dragons, they agreed on most principles. They didn't need to waste time with words like two-legs. They knew time together and memories were more precious than any words they may one day forget.
They spent the rest of the night silently enjoying each other's company as they ate under the moonlight. To a dragon, the moonlight shone almost as brightly as the sun. Arya had informed Frinen many times that it was in fact the sun's reflection, accounting for its drop in luminescence.
Firnen padded over to a nearby stream to quench his thirst and clean himself. Saphira admired his hind quarters. He was so much bigger than any of the other dragons in Arngor. She was still the biggest of course, but only in wingspan. Firnen was bulkier than her now, and it was a point of pride for her that this large green dragon was hers. She decided in that moment to remind him.
Eragon and Arya were about to go to sleep when waves of primal want began to leak through their bond from their dragons.
Before she could stop herself, Arya pushed Eragon to his back on their bed. She began nipping at his neck, kissing him, and letting her hands roam wherever they pleased.
Eragon responded in kind. He didn't want this feeling to end. He held her firmly by her waist on top of him as she kissed him, loving the feeling of her closeness.
Within seconds she had removed his tunic. Hers wasn't far behind. Until now, they were acting out of pure instinct. Neither of them had thought to close off their minds from the dragons this time. The maelstrom of emotion coming from both themselves and their dragons pushed them to continue to ignore human thought almost entirely.
Eragon flipped Arya to her stomach and bit the back of her neck hard. She moaned and let loose what sounded like a dragon rumble. Eragon hummed in victory and proceeded to remove the rest of her clothes. Their minds were so entwined now that they had become one. Every thought and feeling was an ocean of pleasure, and neither of them knew which it had stemmed from. They both moved against the other, reaching for the peak. Time was an illusion, and nothing existed outside the two of them. Their mutual appreciation for each other was at the forefront of their actions, but there was an unmistakable need to touch and be touched; to be closer physically than ever before. This went on throughout the early morning hours, but the couple paid time no mind.
They collapsed from pure exhaustion some time later, and Arya smiled, sighing with contentment before dragging the sheets over the two of them. Eragon was already drifting into his waking dreams, and Arya was quick to follow.
She woke to the sound of The Games beginning. Her heart quickened, and a sense of panic spread through her. They were late. She reached for Eragon to wake him but stopped herself just for a moment. He looked so peaceful this way. The worries he wore in the light of day didn't plague him in this state. She wanted to capture this view of him, so she grabbed a piece of slate from her belongings. After taking his appearance in once more, she let her magic flow through her.
"Atra sem eka sjon unin iet hugr's auga waise athr thornessa," Arya whispered.
The words loosely translated meant "Let that which I see in my minds eye be replicated on the surface of this tablet."
The colors began to spill out onto the tablet. She had captured the brilliant hues of his golden chestnut hair, his angular features, and his state of peace perfectly. That wasn't what made this fairth unique though. It wasn't even that he truly looked like an elf and not someone of great importance. He just looked like Eragon; her Eragon. The one that was sweet and thoughtful and witty. She had captured his personality even in his waking dreams.
Artists across Alagaesia had created several fairths of him in the many years since Galbatorix's reign. Almost all of them depicted Eragon in his mostly human form as this unbeatable hero. They showed him as taller, stronger, and infinitely more fierce than he had been at the time. In those works he was intimidating and solemn. They had always seemed an insult to her, albeit an unintended one. None in Alagaesia aside from her and a handful of others knew Eragon as he truly was. He was humble, curious, and loyal to a fault. She hadn't deserved his loyalty, but he had always given it freely; even when she hurt him.
She could have stared at him like this for hours, but their l responsibilities required their presence at The Games, so she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and lightly jostled him from his waking dreams.