4

At the end of the first day of the Games, Saphira and Fírnen took their Riders for a flight. The sun was low, and the heat started to give in a bit. It was a most pleasant twilight, and the Riders decided to enjoy it on the edge of a small cliff a mile away from Mount Arngor, where the River Edda made a turn south. The dragons lay down behind them and started a private conversation between themselves without bothering to talk using words or opening the full meaning of it to their Riders. A small connection was kept but nothing more than that.

"So, if I don't ask any questions, we don't talk at all?"

Eragon observed Arya with a smirk. She was sitting beside him on the ledge, looking ahead, her chin slightly lifted to enjoy the warm breeze. She turned to him and raised a brow, without saying anything.

"I guess not even then", his smirk turned into a full smile. Warm and childlike. She responded with her smile, softer, reluctant.

He scooted over to get closer to her.

"Fine, I will be the curious adolescent you are used to."

Her smile grew larger.

"I am not used to him anymore, I think. I have been scrying with the responsible leader of our Order for the past ten years."

"Well, a curious and responsible leader then," he teased. "Besides, this is not a formal scrying session, is it? Feels like old times, camping on the road, except we are not camping, nor on the road."

He laughed a little, feeling his stress being washed away just for being the receiver of her smile, so rare in the past and also when they would talk formalities through the mirrors.

"All right then," Arya said simply and turned her body toward him, bending her right knee to place it on the ledge while her other leg was still hanging from it. "Ask away."

Eragon felt excitement grow inside, with her attention completely on him. He thought about what he wanted to ask her, but nothing impressive came to mind, he just wanted to start a conversation the way they had in the morning.

"Let us cover the basics. How are you? Really, are you happy? Because you only told me stories about your travels with Fírnen and a weird fellow you met in Teirm, without any details of your well-being."

She sighed getting a bit serious.

"That is the basics? A question about happiness? I worry about when the complex ones arrive."

He shrugged.

"Contentment then. I've been thinking for a while that happiness is a fruitless tree to shake."

She nodded, agreeing with him.

"I'm mostly content. There are a lot of things I wish I could do, but I cannot, though I achieved much more than I expected to work as queen in such a short period."

It was his turn to agree. He wondered what she wished she could do and couldn't but decided not to bring it up.

"I think this is exactly the definition of contentment. I feel this way too."

They sat in silence for a moment, looking away. She was looking away at least, for he couldn't divert his gaze from her face again, just the way he did earlier that day. Arya was untouched by time, as expected. Yet, something about her had changed, something he could not quite pinpoint. He wondered…

"How is life here? I have noticed an interesting dynamic inside Fell Thindarë. People seem to cooperate but not mix completely. How it works is beyond my comprehension." His line of thought was interrupted, but he didn't fail to engage in her questioning.

"It is exactly that, interesting, new, and it works. We can spend many days in the same routine, working unceasingly, until something extraordinary happens, always concerning the dragons of course", he smiled gently to her, to which she responded accordingly. "In those moments I remember why we do what we do. No regrets. It's a rewarding feeling to know that the choices you made were the right ones in the end.

"The different races don't exactly mix, but it's not a bad thing, I figured with time, although conflicts aren't unusual. Of course, a part of the population gets along very well, in friendship or even romantically. Yes, it had happened." He laughed a little. "But mostly they maintain a respectful partnership, despite the differences, bound by one purpose. I wasn't looking for creating a new civilization, but people kept coming, and it made me anxious that I was putting the dragons in danger by allowing this. In the end, I was convinced that a cohesive society was all we needed to thrive so far away with so little resources."

Her smile never left her face during his speech, but her eyes told a different story. He looked deeply into those emeralds and saw a trace of… He couldn't pinpoint that either. Could it be sadness? Jealousy? Maybe he didn't know her the way he thought he did, or maybe she had changed. It was a possibility, he considered, she had big responsibilities, as the Elven Queen and the only Dragon Rider in Alagaësia, apart from Murtagh. Ten years had passed after all.

Silence fell upon their conversation again, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. She looked away once more, which allowed him to watch her freely. Somehow, the more he thought about it over the years, the word beautiful would always fall short when describing her. He had used the word with no hesitation in the past, but at that moment, it didn't feel right.

Since his departure to his new home, her overwhelming influence stopped being a problem when analyzing other women. He knew beautiful, he saw beautiful of all races. He could well recognize it by that point. He even knew attractive and sensual. But she wasn't it, she was, but not only it. No, she was more. Maybe it was his foolish heart clouding his vision with all the love he felt for her, Eragon could not know for sure. However, anyone would agree that her perfect lines and curves, her angles and colors, they all composed a masterpiece. Not perfect though, for art is not supposed to be perfect, but deep, meaningful. So, it was only appropriate that he wouldn't call her beautiful since the word lacked all her nuances, all her depth.

He sighed. Maybe he wasn't worthy of her after all.

For the first time, he felt Saphira's attention turning to him in the back of his mind, and he could tell she wasn't pleased with his self-deprecating line of thought. She didn't say a word though.

Still watching Arya, he saw the corner of her lips twitching and a little smile appear as she turned to him.

"Are you done?"

He felt embarrassed for staring again and looked down, warmth filled his cheeks.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"It's all right", she interrupted him and did something that made his eyes dart to her, widened in surprise. Arya reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers in his. She laughed at his expression.

"Come on now, this isn't something new to us, is it?", she pointed at their hands lying on the ground between them.

He looked her in the eyes and saw amusement for his embarrassment, but mainly he saw gentleness. When did this relaxed aura had fallen upon her? Sure he had seen her laugh and enjoy the moment in the past. Of course her gentleness and soft voices weren't completely new to him, but at that moment, and the entire day they spent side by side, she looked totally at ease in his presence. It was heartwarming to have her so comfortable around him.

He shook his head. No, their touch wasn't new. She took his hand before, but her warmth on his skin would never get old. He, on the other hand, was older. He should get his composure back and act like a grown man. So, he straightened his back, showed a confident smile, and dared to say in a low but strong voice.

"I apologize, but sometimes I'm reminded that there's a fool in love living inside myself waiting to betray my composure."

Eragon expected her to retract from his bold words and cut their physical contact, but she did not. She was looking at him and when he returned the gaze to her eyes, she just nodded and exhaled.

"There's no need to apologize. Love is not foreign to me as you may think."

He was surprised and watched her attentively, for he knew that a painful memory had just crossed her mind and her eyes. Though he hoped that he was the one in her mind when she spoke of love, he knew she was speaking of another, one she had lost, one that still hurt her deeply.

"Fäolin," he whispered, and she turned her face away, without letting go of his hand. He gave it a light squeeze and caressed her soft skin with his thumb.

She had been in love with the elf, after all, he thought, remembering the time she avoided his question when they were returning to the Varden after Katrina's rescue from Helgrind.

"You can talk to me about him. Or anything."

Arya turned to give him a bitter grin. It made him want to add, "Really! Arya, there's nothing about you that I reject. He's a part of you, I've seen in your name, so it would be childish of me to assume you would just bury him inside and never speak or think of him ever again. I don't want that. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me so that matters like this come easy to your tongue, even if it's rough on the heart."

Eragon was being completely honest, if he truly loved her, then accepting she had a past before him was the most fundamental step he should take.

Her gaze never left his eyes, and he was glad she didn't back away from him and his intrusion.

"Words seem to come easy to your tongue, Shadeslayer," she joked, but her tone was sad.

"I've been learning."

He grinned with empathy in his eyes because he knew she must have been dealing with her painful memories all by herself this whole time, at least she had Fírnen, and this thought calmed his heart.

She let go of his hand and nodded. As she spoke, she turned her body forward again, her two feet hanging out from the ledge.

"I am comfortable with you, Eragon. You are the closest friend I have apart from Fírnen, even not seeing you for ten years and living miles and miles away."

Her voice was low and faint, and although Eragon could hear her perfectly, she was facing away and he wanted to be as attentive as he could, so he leaned forward to have a good look at her face. They were almost mimicking each other's stance, feet hanging from the ledge and hands on their laps, if it weren't for his head turned to her and hers facing forward.

Eragon was going to ask her something to get her to talk, but she was faster.

"In hindsight, maybe what we had would be over soon if he hadn't died." She exhaled heavily. "And that's a thought I blame myself for having."

The statement made Eragon's head spin. Yes, he definitely didn't know her the way he thought he did. Arya and Fäolin had a relationship, a long and complex one.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" He suggested in a voice so soft it could pass for a whisper. "How did you two meet and started–", he thought for a second, trying to find the right word that could name whatever elves do when they fall in love. He had no idea, was it the same for them as it was for humans? "Courting? Does it sound right? I don't think it sounds right."

She laughed lightly at his confusion but didn't enlighten him. Instead, she began telling him what he had asked.

"Fäolin was a constant company during my youth. As I already told you once, we were kindred spirits, but we remained just friends for a long time."

Arya paused, trying to recollect her memories. After a brief intermission, she started again, in a hushed voice.

"He supported my decision to leave Ellesméra, for he knew I could never sit and wait when so many less privileged men and women, humans and dwarves, were fighting for every bit of freedom they could have. He also understood my desire for revenge. I appreciated that in him, and I thought that, when the time came, he would like to join me."

"He did not."

She shook her head.

"No. He stated that his purpose was to better himself before he could try to act on behalf of others. That he had a job to do in Ellesméra and he would serve in another way."

A petty thought crossed Eragon's mind, and he felt Saphira's interference for the second time, this time with words.

You're right, but don't tell her that!

What? That she loved a spoiled son of a bitch who couldn't abandon the comfort of his precious forest to go after the woman he loved and to help a people that didn't have half of his skills and knowledge but sacrificed themselves for the well-being of others? You mean that? Don't worry, I suspect she already knows.

"I was furious," Arya added emotionless.

Told you! Eragon joked with Saphira, who laughed but didn't make any other observations.

"I trusted he would do the right thing eventually though, so we parted ways and rarely spoke in the next decades if it weren't for occasional letters traded at the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden by messengers and merchants and sporadic encounters."

"Right. You didn't go back to Ellesméra until you took us for our training with Oromis and Glaedr," he reminisced.

She nodded.

"I wouldn't go back there taking the risk to face my mother, after all, that's been said and done between us. But I had to visit Du Weldenvarden a few times, very briefly to deliver the Saphira's egg, as my duty mandated. That was when I would see him. We were amicable, and he was full of promises, ones I could not hold on to since I had a job to do as ambassador."

He agreed. There was much more to Arya's story them she usually let anyone know, and he was glad she chose to share it with him. He looked at her with warmth in his eyes and said in a soft voice, "Go on."

Arya took a deep breath encouraged by his support and kept speaking.

"And that was all that was left of our friendship during my time alone with the Varden. Our letters were a comfort but could not replace the companionship we had before."

With that, Eragon had to agree. He was far away from his closest friends and family, and letters and mirrors just didn't give him the companionship he craved. He had Blödhgarm, Ästrith, and the others, but it wasn't the same. He missed joking around with Roran, the caring embraces Katrina would give him, his long talks with Nasuada —who he thought understood him very well—, the unwavering loyalty that Orik had for him and mostly the quiet partnership he had with Arya. Despite his romantic feelings for her, he held her friendship at the highest consideration, for she was loyal, wise, giving and accepting of him.

"When he was sent by my mother to be my guard while carrying Saphira's egg back and forth between the Varden and Du Weldenvarden, I strongly refused and probably caused him some heartache, for he thought I was refusing his company, and that couldn't be as far from the truth." She shook her head as she was arguing with an image of Fäolin.

"Why was it then?"

"I believed with all my convictions that my mother was trying to manipulate me by using him. I was sure she had sent him to convince me to get back. He avoided my questioning about it for a while until he finally confessed. And he never tried to convince me of anything, he knew better." She smiled softly at Eragon. "She did that the same way she tried to use you to manipulate me," she said so casually that he had a hard time trying to grasp the meaning of her words.

After a brief consideration, he closed his eyes trying to remember their time together in Ellesméra and how naïve he had been even knowing Islanzadí's cunning nature.

"She knew you wouldn't refuse her apologies in front of us when we arrived in Ellesméra."

She nodded, and a tired grin appeared on her lips.

"Not only that, but she believed I would refrain myself from following you into the battle with Galbatorix if you asked. She hoped you would ask."

He smirked jokingly.

"I knew better."

She graced him with the same kind of smirk.

"But how would she induce me to ask that of you? I explicitly defended the idea of you fighting alongside us."

"By saying in front of you how I had only seen the hard part of life and helped myself from living its joys. She hoped you would want to rethink and try to spare me so I could live on and enjoy life."

He closed his eyes again.

"She was so subtle, and I, so clueless." The tired expression emerged again on her face. "When Saphira and I came back from Vroengard, we all worked on our plan to defeat Galbatorix, and you two had a very non-private conversation about it. I should've figured her intentions. At least Islanzadí and you made peace."

She nodded.

"Well, we did, but I could not ignore my mother's biggest talent, using the men in my life to manipulate me into making peace with her." Arya used a tone of voice that never failed in startling Eragon, sarcastic, almost feral.

He couldn't let go of the fact that she included him in the men in her life category. He wondered who else was there with himself and Fäolin, her father probably? He could imagine Queen Islanzadí using the memory of Evandar to persuade her daughter into doing her likings.

"Anyway, I digress. After further consideration, I accepted his role as my guard. Fäolin and Glenwing."

"Was it when you two started to get back to what you had before?"

"Yes, and no. We became close again, but it was different, we were terribly different from the ones we had been once, you must imagine why."

"I can imagine how you have changed, being directly involved in the uprising. However, I do not know what could have changed him in Ellesméra." He let a bit of his harsh judgment transpire in his words, but she seemed not to notice.

"He had his hardships, which aren't mine to tell. And I guess we clung to each other, for comfort. It was like when we were together there was a familiar feeling, a feeling of home."

Eragon felt bad for her, thinking about how it was for her living among a people so different than hers or herself for that matter. His bad judgment of Fäolin faltered at the idea of him being her only solace.

"So, I guess that's when the actual courting started," she played with the word he struggled with before and smiled faintly to him. "For years we traveled carrying Saphira's egg with hopes that it would hatch soon. Of course Glenwing was as much part of it as the both of us, but Fäolin was my confidant, my best friend and..."

She seemed embarrassed with the word Eragon already knew she would speak. He thought he could help her let it out.

"Lover." His voice was whispered but without any judgment or jealousy. He wanted to make sure she felt safe with him.

Arya sighed.

"I don't know now the extent of my love for him, if I let myself get involved out of homesickness or because we were the only ones we could rely on, but at the time I was sure of my feelings for him."

Eragon narrowed his eyes at her. Because she was looking ahead, he lifted his hand slowly and with delicacy he touched her chin to turn her gaze to him. When Arya found his eyes, he saw her emeralds almost black, even though the night was bright.

"Why do you diminish your feelings like that? Why can't you just admit that you loved him without any reason, just for the love itself?"

His voice was low and intense. Eragon let go of her chin and watched as she took a deep breath and looked up to the stars.

He understood why, and again he went for the rescue.

"Because it hurts, doesn't it? He's gone, and there's nothing you can do with that feeling now." He understood her anguish to a certain extent, to feel incapable of acting on an emotion or even moving on from it. Despite his profound love for her, he couldn't be jealous of Fäolin, he only had to respect her past and hope she would accept it too. Easier said than done, but he was committed to trying his best.

The elf closed her eyes at his words, showing him that he got everything right. She had loved Fäolin, it was very clear, but why did she think it would be over soon if he hadn't died as she stated earlier? When he voiced his question, she shrugged.

"We grew apart in the last year of our time together. I felt like he was losing hope of finding the next Rider, of ending the Mad King's rule of terror. It disappointed me to no end, for all I had worked for until that moment had been pointless from his perspective, all of those decades of dedication, for nothing. I remember like it was yesterday the talk we had before leaving Tronjheim to Du Weldenvarden for the last time. I wanted to end things even still having such strong feelings for him; he begged me not to."

"So you didn't."

She shook her head.

"No, I decided to give us another try, hoping Saphira would hatch to a new Rider and his trust in our mission would be rebuilt. Looking back, it was the right thing to do, I don't know how I would feel if we had been separated at the time of his death. If I had caused him so much pain. And Saphira did choose her Rider, but he wasn't there to see."

Her voice got so low in the end that if Eragon didn't have his elven hearing he would probably miss it.

Eragon reached for her shoulder to comfort her. She looked at him and gave him a grateful look.

"Thank you for being so honest with me, and I'm sorry that you had to go through all this hardship so I could be Saphira's rider."

Arya spared him a sad smile.

Eragon retreated his hand from her shoulder and looked ahead stretching his back, which got sore from bending to listen to her so closely.

"Do you think he would have liked me if we had met?" He asked in a lively tone, trying to soften her mood.

She raised a brow to him.

He laughed at what she was probably thinking.

"Fine, maybe not like, but approve of me as Saphira's rider. I mean, he knew her from inside her egg before I did, I imagine he had an idea of what a suitable candidate would look like. I'm sure you all did, the three of you."

It doesn't matter what he would think, the choice was mine and mine alone. Saphira's tone was impertinent as she spoke inside their minds. He wanted to laugh at her intrusion but held himself.

Arya pondered, with a stray look.

"It's hard to say, but Saphira is right, only her opinion mattered."

"You mean no, don't you? He wouldn't approve of me at all."

She stared at him concerned, but relaxed when she noticed his mood was light and playful.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, I know people expected more, especially the elves. I always knew. I even agreed with that for a long time."

"Not me." She got serious. "I trusted that you would do good since the beginning, for I knew Saphira's core I was sure she would choose the best she could find. She met and refused each one of your critics in Du Weldenvarden. I guess they were only envious of you." A kind and approving thought entered his mind coming from Fírnen, at the same time he poked Eragon affectionately on the back with his nose.

Arya's words touched him and also Saphira, he could feel her gratitude for the elf pouring through their bond and suspected his dragon was passing it to her at that exact moment.

Arya smiled and held his hand again.

"You are very kind, Arya. Thank you." Eragon intertwined his fingers with hers. "Well..." he continued, "I would've liked him."

She raised a brow in suspicion again.

"You said he was your only solace, he felt like home to you, that you two were kindred spirits. If Fäolin was that good to you, then I wouldn't have any other choice than to like him. Despite his lack of faith in me, I think we would be just fine." Eragon had a boyish smile on his face.

"If you say so..."

Arya brought their hands to her lap and put her other hand over his. Eragon doubted that she had ever shown him so much affection through physical contact before. He felt moved once more.

"How about the Black Morning Glory, when was..." he started to ask in a low voice.

"Before I left. As some kind of promise."

What kind of promise? That one day they would be mates? Did they end up being mates, was that what their relationship was? She said they were lovers, is that the same thing as mates? Eragon remained confused regarding the elven amorous practices, and maybe Blödhgarm could enlighten him someday since he was sure many of his future students would be elves and they would certainly engage in those practices sooner or later, as he already started noticing with Renir and his sparring partner.

Oh yes, that's why you want to know more about it, Saphira mocked him.

Shut up! He faked resentment.

Eragon remained silent for the following minutes, just enjoying the warm breeze that kept blowing and the pressure of her hands on his skin. She caressed the back of his hand or the hair on his wrist from time to time, and it would warm him inside.

He had his eyes closed to take it all in more easily when her voice brought him back.

"You look different". She had turned to him again, just the way she had done before her narrative about Fäolin, and he saw some admiration in her eyes.

"Better I hope."

She nodded with a smile.

"Of course."

"I changed a lot since the last time we saw each other in person, on the inside I mean. I believe that's what you were referring to, since you saw me many times over these last ten years, through the mirrors."

"I meant both. I never felt like pointing it out to you when we were talking serious matters via scrying."

"I understand. What do you see, then, apart from the beard?"

She did something he wasn't expecting. She reached his cheek with her free hand and caressed his facial hair. Arya's touch was so tender he fought the urge to close his eyes. And as suddenly as it started, it ended.

She stood up quickly and said, "We better get back. We will be late for dinner and we have a meeting tomorrow first thing in the morning before the second day of the Games. I would like to get some rest tonight."

He nodded and got up too, wishing he could stay all night feeling her touch on his face and her musical laugh fill his ears.

After dinner, which was less ceremonious than the night before, he stayed back in the dining hall to lounge on a comfortable chair by one of the fireplaces. Not all of them were lit because it was summer and the climate was nice and warm, even inside the big mountain, but the habit of smoking by the fireplace was well kept in Mount Arngor. He was joined around the almost dying fire by some other residents, three human men and two dwarves, husband and wife. All around the hall, other groups formed. His little party did not bother to talk, instead kept respectful company to each other for quite a while.

One by one, his companions left for the night, with quiet words of goodbye, but he didn't feel like resting, so he lingered there a little more. Saphira was long gone by then.

Alone in the enormous hall, Eragon pondered the happenings of the day. So much had happened, he had trouble quieting his mind. He took a drag from his pipe and blew the smoke to the air, watching it twirl above his head.

"I hoped to find you alone here."

Orik's voice startled Eragon. How silly of him to be so careless with his surroundings. He should be more attentive to anyone approaching him.

"Hello, Orik. Care to join me for a smoke?" He tried to sound friendly and inviting, but got nervous, for he knew what was coming.

"Aye. Came prepared." Orik lifted his long pipe after settling on the chair opposite Eragon.

"We need to talk," Eragon said in a concerned tone.

"Indeed. Let's talk."