When Eragon woke, Saphira was already up cleaning her scales with her massive tongue.
"Good morning, little one," she crooned to him across their bond.
"Good morning, big one," he replied. Such was their daily routine for the last three years since the day Eragon had been forced to expand the landing balcony of his home in Arngor for a second time.
Eragon spent the next hour in meditation, clearing his mind and preparing himself for the attentions of the many. While a small crowd had seen him last night, word of his arrival would surely have spread throughout the mountain city. He knew many would come seeking blessings, stories, and proposals of marriage. He had heard stories from the other riders who had traveled through Alagaesia, and he knew his fate would be no different in that regard. It was his duty to endure these attentions with grace, but he knew if any women proposed marriage to him, his face would likely turn purple without his say so.
After he had prepared himself mentally for the onslaught, Eragon began the dance of the snake and crane. His muscles were aching from many long days in the saddle. Once that was complete, he made his way to the endless staircase, excited to find himself something to eat and see what the day would bring.
Umaroth and the other seven Eldunari had been a great help on the journey to Tronjheim, providing extra energy to speed Saphira along. They had cut the week-and-a-half-long trip to only eight days with their strength, but since then, he had not heard much from them. Umaroth took this moment to contact him, reminding him that this was not simply a social visit. He must tread carefully.
His powers were greater than they knew, and so it was time to reform the Rider Council, undoubtedly the only ones who could challenge him. The leaders of the other races would no doubt have input to share on the matter, but he didn't want them to fear him.
With only three days till the games, Eragon thought it best to hold off on such talks for the time being. This week was about fostering unity and camaraderie among the races, and he didn't want to upset the delicate balance during the event itself. These matters would no doubt be scrutinized with care, and he had no desire to add stress to the occasion. He would wait until after the conclusion to voice the need for the rider council to be reformed.
His thoughts were interrupted very abruptly as he turned the corner at the bottom of the staircase. A company of elves stood before him, and he sensed the magic of three dragons, but he only saw one elf he recognized. Vanir stepped forward and twisted his hand over his sternum in the traditional elven greeting.
"Atra esterní ono thelduin," Vanir began.
"Atra du evarínya ono varda," Eragon finished.
"It is good to see you, Vanir-vor!" Eragon said. "I trust all is well with the eggs?"
"Yes, Eragon-elda, all is well. We still have three of the four you gave us last," Vanir said. "The onyx egg hatched just last week in Tarnag for a dwarf named Haroldun, and his dragon's coloring, like the shell, is truly exceptional!" Vanir replied with appreciation. "He just greeted King Orik as a rider, and we will escort him to Hedarth just as soon as the Games are over, for he wishes to compete one last time as a dwarf before taking up his duty."
"And his dragon's name?" Eragon asked.
"Dorzada," Vanir replied, "for all the love and adoration his dragon would receive from his people for his stone-like appearance."
Eragon laughed at that jovially. "And now we are 28," he said.
The number growing always gave him a sense of relief and accomplishment, but it also added to his stress. He was no longer the lone dragon rider, but every rider that came further cemented his legacy of being the first of this age. Every rider that came after was HIS responsibility.
Blodgharm helped of course, as did Yaela, but they alone could no longer defeat him. He worried that one day he might grow corrupt. The Eldunari had shared many ancient secrets with him, but the most dangerous of their teachings was that of wordless magic and the ability to access unlimited energy from the sun. If he chose, he could destroy the entire order with minimal effort. He had trained all of them, and he knew their strengths and weaknesses. In an age of relative peace, he felt the only true threat to it was him.
He pulled himself from his thoughts back to Vanir. The other elves had dispersed after it was clear they might be speaking for some time, but the rest of the races did not have the same reserved respect. A crowd had formed around the two.
"It seems you have many others to greet, Shadeslayer," Vanir said. "I will take my leave, but I do wish to see if you've kept your skill with a blade. I am still due a rematch from our last some time ago."
"Aye," said Eragon. "I shall find you before the games are through."
Pressing forward, Eragon moved through the crowd, waving to those too scared to approach.
"Greetings, Alagaesians!" he said to the many.
It was a first for him to see a crowd of this diversity not bickering about their differences. Things certainly had changed since the war. A few mothers held their babies out to him for minor and very carefully worded blessings, while older children stared at him with open mouths. After he had satisfied their curiosity, he excused himself to find some food in the kitchens.
Eragon wove his way through the line and picked out an assortment of fruit.
"I wonder where Roran is," he thought to Saphira, who had just now finished cleaning herself.
"Well…find out," Saphira replied simply.
"Dragon logic," he laughed to her.
"Just logic," she quipped back.
He looked for a clear surface. Finding none, he decided to simply use a cup of water for his purposes.
"Draumr kopa," he said out of habit.
He didn't need to use words anymore, but he still said them sometimes. As he finished the words, Roran's aging face came into view. He was currently somewhere in the Hadarac desert traveling with what looked to be the rest of the human nobility, but the Beors were in sight.
"He's close, Saphira!" Eragon thought.
After scrying Roran, he decided to inform Yaela of his safe return.
"Draumr kopa," Eragon intoned.
The mirror shimmered, revealing his office. He waited for a few minutes until Yaela walked in, looking to the mirror expectantly.
"Yaela," Eragon said. "How is Arngor?" "Things are well Ebrithil," Yaela said quickly. "How were your travels?"
"I've told you since the day you became a true Rider, call me Eragon," he said. "And it is the same for me. Everything is well. I just wanted to check in. I'll contact you again when the Games are over."
"Very well Eragon," Yaela said. "I shall speak with you then."
He knew scrying Arya to be a generally pointless endeavor, so he committed himself to being prepared for her arrival. Of all his tasks, it seemed that was the one he was least suited to. Maintaining his composure in front of her after all this time apart would be difficult. His deepest desires could not be though. No matter what he did or said, she was an elven queen, and he the lead rider.
"Duty," he sighed in a rather desolate tone to Saphira.
She picked up on his train of thought immediately, as it was one he rode frequently.
"Enjoy the time you have with her, little one," she said. "Do not forget to live. For that is what I shall do when Firnen arrives."
He knew she had meant it sincerely, but her mention of enjoyment caused his thoughts to recall the feelings that leaked through their bond the night Saphira and Firnen first mated.
"Please just be sure to close yourselves off completely first. I don't need your feelings for Firnen influencing my actions," Eragon said.
"That's one perspective," Saphira said with mirth at the thought of him attempting to mate with Arya the way a dragon would. "It would certainly take away the endless dissection of every moment and the torture of what if," she said wisely.
Saphira still maintained that the two-leg way of mating was too complicated. Dragons knew what they wanted, and they took it without apology or patience.
After finishing his food, Eragon decided to make his way to Orik's quarters. He vaguely remembered drunkenly agreeing to visit Hvedra and his niece and nephews before the craze of the Games completely took over. He knew Orik still had much to complete before they could commence in two days. As he made his way to the doors of the massive great hall with the breathtaking Isidar Mithrim affixed above their heads, he saw more and more people arriving. There were hundreds of humans and elves arriving today it seemed.
A shout went up, and a dwarf stationed near the entrance made his announcement. "Arya Drottningu! Ruler of the elves! And the great dragon Firnen!"
Saphira roared from the dragon loft as she took in the information. It was a roar of joy, a roar louder than any other dragon alive could make. The announcement of her mate's arrival spurred her into action, and a silence descended upon the hall as everyone looked to see where the great sound was loosed from. He could see from Firnen's expression that he too was curious as to the originator of such a loudly bellowed greeting, but when Firnen realized who it was careening towards him, he rose tall on his hind legs, returning her greeting with pure joy.
After the deafening noise coming from Firnen shocked the crowd for a second time, Eragon finally saw her. Still sitting atop Firnen in his saddle, was Arya. Her mask was on, but he could tell from her eyes she was just as confused and excited as Firnen by Saphira's sudden appearance. The hint of a smile broke out across her features for less than a second as she basked in Firnen's joy. Then he saw what looked like hope, and then it was gone. Her mask was back in place as Firnen pushed forward to meet Saphira.
Arya dismounted with the grace only an elf could muster, and she freed Firnen of his saddle so he could retreat to the dragonhold with Saphira. As she finished, she began scanning the many onlookers until finally their eyes met and held each other appraisingly.
Eragon gave a lighthearted wave to her, striding forward and beginning the traditional elf greeting as a sign of respect for her station as she tried to do the same. They both laughed then. It had long been difficult to determine which of the two of them should begin the phrase. The one to start was supposed to be the one of lower standing. Eragon saw her as superior to him because he admired her, and it was difficult for him to think otherwise despite his role and her technical place in the order.
He was then aware of the many eyes on them, and the inappropriateness of his staring.
"Greetings, Arya Drottningu," he said simply, trying to gauge her reaction to his presence.
"Greetings, Lord Rider," she replied formally and with a sense of finality.
Her tone didn't leave him with the sense that she wanted to make small talk. She seemed…angry? Now he was unsure what he should say to smooth things over, and a myriad of possibilities to what she could be mad about attacked every corner of his insecurities.
What if she's mad I came back? Maybe she's mad I didn't tell her I was coming? He knew she didn't feel for him the exact same, but there was something between them. He was sure of that much. The exchanging of true names meant they were bonded in a way few others could comprehend. To know someone to that extent; the good and the bad, was both a blessing and a curse. For he knew that duty formed her and held her in its grasp stronger than even he could fathom. She would never believe another to be better fit to rule, thus she would never be free from it.
The whispers around them had started to grow as the silence stretched on.
"How was your journey?" Eragon finally said lamely. "The skies were agreeable and the winds in our favor," she said succinctly.
It was difficult for Eragon to form words with those around them thinking and whispering many of his own questions surrounding them as a pair.
After allowing him time for a response and none came, she said, "It was good to see you. I must greet Orik before I retire to my quarters for rest."
Understanding that he was being dismissed in a sense, Eragon nodded slowly.
"Of course," he managed to get out. "See you later."
After nodding her head, she turned abruptly and headed to find and greet Orik on the old sparring grounds, which had been converted into a stadium for the games.
Eragon continued towards the royal quarters, his mind reeling from the encounter he had with Arya.
"Ugh," he said mostly to himself. "After fifteen years, I could barely talk to her."
Surprisingly, Umaroth took that moment to speak to him.
"You are no longer the boy the world raised up to defeat a mad king, Eragon," Umaroth said. "You have grown and changed. The wisdom we have imparted to you is not simply that of how to fight or fly. Take from my memories, Eragon. I watched love develop between the two-legs as often as the mating of my own kind. While we dragons do not understand why the length of the process is so long, we do know more about the mating of the elves than you. Take from me what you will. Maybe this will help alleviate your fears regarding the elf queen."
Before he could ask Umaroth to wait to give him the memories, the onslaught began, and thousands of images with and without context began to appear before his eyes. He saw the best and worst of love throughout a millennia of elfin and Rider history in the time it took to knock on the door of Hvedra's home.