For Alagaesia: 81. Confession

Every part of him literally ached; right from his bones to his heart. His last and only remaining father figure had left him to fend off in the world alone. With none to guide him, how was he to do anything? Whom would he consult next for troubles ranging from Galbatorix to Arya?

The silky soft tresses of the said elf was his only comfort now. Hiding his face in those black locks, he let his tears fall. He would have stood there, trapped in Arya’s arms grieving his master’s death had he not heard the slight moaning of a little girl to his right.

Reluctantly - for he felt he would die in grief if he stepped aside from Arya - he extricated himself from the elven princess’s embrace. Glaedr would not be happy if he did not take responsibility for the child that the elder dragon had saved from Galbatorix’s grip.

Saphira had put one of her wings around the bulk of Indra’s body protecting him from the outside world as much as she could. Eragon smiled at the partner-of-his-heart-and-mind glad that she at least had Indra from her race now that Glaedr had found the void truly and completely. He knew what the weight of being the only living dragon outside Galbatorix’s control had done to her in the first year of her existence.

He could hear Arya’s sobbing from behind him and did his utmost to hide his grief from his face. It would not do to look into Elva’s face at the moment of her freedom as if the world was lost to him.

When he reached the child, he bent down and lifted her tenderly as if she were a flower that would wither at the slightest gale. His broken ribs hurt him like hell when he did so but he did not show it on his face. The girl opened her eyes at his touch as if she was expecting to be cradled by him.

“Will you ever forgive me?” Eragon whispered in Elva’s ears.

To his surprise and shock, the child let out a laugh - a short mirthless one - and said, “Forgive you, shadeslayer? It is I who should ask you that. Although, I don’t think I have the right to. I betrayed your trust and was lured by Galbatorix’s promises. It was because of me that you went through all those months of torture at his hands.”

Eragon peered into the depths of the child’s violet eyes. A lump formed in his throat that threatened to suffocate him. People thought Galbatorix was cruel. Here was Eragon Shadeslayer who had made the life of a mere infant a hell on Alagaesia, allowing the very child he had cursed to eternal pain to apologise to him. A soft touch on his back alerted him of the presence of others beside him and he involuntarily leaned into the comforting hand of Arya.

“You were responsible for nothing, child. It was I and my illiteracy that were responsible for all that happened,” he stated resolutely. He took comfort in the slight squeeze Arya gave to his shoulder. She was with him and he was glad for it.

Elva closed her eyes for a moment and asked calmly, “Will you help me get out of this life, Lord Eragon?”

“I will do what I can.” Eragon promised. He had, for months now, gone over the wordings he had to use to free Elva of the curse he had laid upon her head. He wasn’t sure if it would work but Saphira gave him her word that she would join in to work her magic as well.

And so he began to incantate placing one of his hands on Elva’s forehead where Saphira had given her a dragon mark. He could feel Saphira merge her mind with his and Arya join in with him. He did not know how Arya learned of his spell but she chanted it like she had practised already. Her trust in his knowledge made him proud. She was risking her conscience for his sake because if something went wrong, they would all have a part in it rather than just him.

When they were finished Eragon could feel a surge of energy radiate from Saphira and enter Elva. The child closed her eyes as if she had gone into a deep slumber. Eragon was anxious. He wanted to know if he had helped the child or if he had worsened her condition further. But she looked peaceful in his hands and something stopped him from disturbing her. He had disturbed her peace for so long.

‘We must go. Your mother is worried,’ Indra said. He did not sound like one who had just minutes ago faced eternal slavery. He was as Glaedr had observed, one of the bravest souls to have ever lived.

Arya helped Eragon climb into Saphira’s saddle seeing as he was unable to do so himself. As she put one arm around him and led him towards Saphira, Eragon forgot all about his pain, acutely aware of their closeness and her willingness to help him.

When seated with Elva safely in front of him, he said, “Thank you,” in a meek voice.

Arya nodded and smiled slightly at him, her hand coming forward to secure his legs to the saddle straps. Alarm shot through him as he took in the state of her fingers. They were in a dangerous reddish black colour and oozed a liquid, typical of a burn wound as he had seen on Garrow long ago. Although she wasn’t in any visible pain at the moment, against her fair skin the fingers looked in complete contrast and that made Eragon anxious. He caught her hand and without paying attention to his depleted energy store, willed her fingers to be healed.

New skin flowed over her burned one and in moments her hand looked as perfect as ever. Eragon slumped against Saphira’s neck as the wordless magic took its toll on him. Arya glared at him but said nothing as she pulled her hand away and walked towards Indra.

The emerald scaled dragon dipped his head in thanks to Eragon and he smiled at the dragon in response. Once Arya had got into Indra’s saddle, Saphira lifted off from the magically created floor closely followed by Indra. They could hear the cheers coming up from the Varden in the distance which only meant that the empire’s army had lost its cohesion at the disappearance of their king.

Saphira saw the laboured flight of Indra, his torn wing membrane making it difficult for him to fly and snarled. ‘Why did you come?’ She burst out. ‘You promised Glaedr Arya. Why did you bring him here?’

‘I brought her. I promised none that I would not follow you.’ Indra replied coolly.

“But we can’t lose you!” Eragon exclaimed ignoring the searing pain from his ribs as he spoke in a raised voice. “You are too precious for us to lose.”

“Eragon, I never got to bid you farewell.” Arya said in a matter-of-fact manner.

It was Eragon’s turn to glare at her. ‘I pleaded with you and you ignored me,’ thought he, angry that she would even give this as a reply. Her arrogance had almost resulted in Indra’s slavery.

Arya did not cut eye contact and neither did she change her expression. Her face said that she was remorseless for her actions. According to her, it was the right course. “I care for you, Eragon… no matter what you think…” She seemed to want to say more but remained silent.

Her open admission somehow comforted Eragon. He had begun to think that he had lost even the friendship he had with her after he re-declared his feelings for her in Silthrim.

By then they had reached the city centre and the tension left Arya’s face, replaced by an expression that could only be called relief.

Eragon wanted to ask Arya more. But she simply would not look him in the eye anymore, instead focussing on the waiting leaders of the Varden who had assembled to invite the victorious riders back. He sighed. Something in her countenance said that she was back to ignoring him entirely.

As the dragons dropped to the ground, Islanzadi and Roran came running towards them. It was an odd sight. His cousin who had been a mere farm-boy until two years ago and the elven queen herself having the same expression etched on their faces: a mixture of relief and happiness.

Arya got down from Indra only to be pulled into an embrace by her mother. He could hear Arya consoling her mother that she was alright and that the queen need not worry. It was indeed a sight like no other. The queen who was always in control of her emotions, more so than her daughter, losing every pretense of control and acting like any normal human mother would.

Roran, being a human, had trailed behind the queen and reached him a bit later than the queen did Arya. But then, his cousin surprised him by holding his foot and pressing his forehead to it. Hot tears fell from Roran’s eyes onto his foot making him uncomfortable. The whole of the varden was watching and their leader was holding his leg.

“Roran…,” Eragon called softly.

“Never do this to me again, Eragon. Never! Promise me!” Roran demanded, not letting go of his foot.

“Roran… it is my responsibility to fight him.” Eragon tried to reason with his cousin.

“No! It is my responsibility to take care of my little brother!” Roran burst out. “What will I say to my father when he asks me in Angvard’s halls if I let you die?”

“Stronghammer.” Eragon was surprised to hear the elven queen whisper to his cousin. “Your cousin needs to be healed.”

Roran nodded taking in his appearance and moved away from Eragon allowing the elves to heal Eragon. Eragon kept his eyes glued on Roran all the while. The way his cousin had lost composure at seeing him injured so badly made his heart ache. What if he were to die at Galbatorix’s hands? What will Roran do then? But then he thought of Katrina and Weldhana. No. Roran will get over his loss when he sees his little baby.

When the people of the varden noticed the sleeping form of Elva seated in front of Eragon, a kind of agitation began to form in the crowd. The people saw the child as their betrayer and not as what she really was: an infant who was lured by Galbatorix who could lure even experienced elven riders like Kialandi with his words.

As the words began to rise and people began to protest, Angela came out of nowhere and stood in front of Saphira. “Anyone who wants to harm the child will have to eat toads for the remainder of their life.” She said. When there was silence, she added, “Raw.” Silence again. Angela raised her eyebrows and said, “Alive.”

The sound of someone retching reached Eragon’s ears. Angela smirked satisfactorily and took the sleeping child into her arms and waited as if expecting men to come forward and steal the kid from her. But then the men of the Varden had heard of the vicious ways in which the witch had killed empire soldiers before and they did not want to be subjected to such a fate. And most certainly they did not seem to want to eat toads alive.

“Thank you, Angela.” Eragon said. Then remembering Galbatorix’s words about her, he said frowning, “You and I have things to discuss.”

“You always have something, Eragon snail-brain,” Angela replied. “But I am busy now. I have to clean up the mess you have made with this baby.” Eragon nodded solemnly and let Angela be for the moment.

The next two days were spent recuperating and he was placed under Angela’s care. As was usual, the witch tortured him with her potions and for good measure tied him to the cot as he tried to walk away more than once. He wanted to see Arya but the elven princess never once visited him. He sent Saphira to ask Arya to meet with him but his dragon came back empty handed every time.

Finally, giving up his quest to get Arya to talk to him, Eragon turned his attention to Angela. She was busy with Elva every second of the day when she was not bandaging or forcing potions into him. His only comforts were the few minutes each day that Orik and Roran spared for him.

On the third morning, when Angela was removing the bandages from his body, Eragon decided to broach the subject of Galbatorix. “You seem to have a history with Galbatorix.” He said.

In response, Angela jabbed a still healing wound making him cringe.

“You don’t have to talk if you are unwilling. But…”

“Oh, but what, snail-brain? But it may be of help to you?” Angela teased him but her expression wasn’t the usual jovial one. She looked sombre.

“There was a time when I was a young girl of twenty when I was much like yourself. Stupid and useless; always creating trouble.” Angela said.

“Wow! That is high regard you have for me!” Eragon shot back.

“Well, the truth is always bitter, Eragon.” Angela replied calmly. “You see… I was eager to learn all that was to magic and I apprenticed under a hermit by the name of Tenga.” Eragon nodded. This was not news to him. He had heard it from Angela already and he had himself met with the hermit.

“He was half mad,” Angela continued, “but he knew his way around magic. He used to keep tests for those who wanted to apprentice under him and he tested me too.” A look like trepidation came over Angela’s face and Eragon wondered if she had made Tenga eat toads alive. “That was when I seeded the idea of the true name of the ancient language into his brain.”

Eragon frowned. The true name of the ancient language! That was indeed something so powerful and unattainable. But what did all this have to do with Galbatorix? Angela answered his unasked question. “Galbatorix joined Tenga during the course of our travels. I had no reason to believe that the young and angry rider who had just lost his dragon would someday become the bane of freedom. If I did, I would not have helped him improve so much… You see Eragon, I felt sympathetic towards him… He was so good natured and I thought of him as a brother. We used to duel each other in magic and he consistently lost to me. When he asked me how I did it, I readily shared my secrets with him.” Angela said sounding more like Brom than like herself. The Angela he knew was talkative and playful. But the one before him was sombre and thoughtful.

“When he learned what I knew - he was a fast learner - he pestered Tenga and from him got the idea of controlling the ancient language,” Angela continued sounding half guilty, “The two men pursued that singular goal and I did not like to be in their company for their intentions weren’t mine. So I deserted them.”

“That is it? That is your history with Galbatorix?” Eragon asked confused.

“Well, what did you expect? That I stole Eldunari for him?” Angela asked suggestively.

Eragon’s eyes widened for a moment. Was there anything that the witch did not know? Realising that the witch was playing him, he asked back, “Well, did you?”

“Thank you for the trust you have in me, Eragon Shadeslayer! Now drink this or tomorrow the foul smell of your pus will keep even Saphira away from you.” Angela said shoving a pitcher full of foul smelling concoction in his hands.

By the next three days, he was mostly healed and the first thing he did when Angela allowed him to move was to go in search of Arya. He could see Indra circling the city with Saphira but when he asked the green dragon of the whereabouts of his rider, he refused to give it away citing his promise to Arya never to share her place of hiding to Eragon and Saphira.

Hiding? That was great going. She was now hiding from him. At least in Ellesmera she had been ignoring him and he had the pleasure of watching her from afar but here she simply wouldn’t show herself to him.

“Shadeslayer!” a timid voice called him from behind.

“How are you today Jarsha? It has been long since I saw you last.” Eragon turned around and said to the Varden’s messenger boy.

The boy tried to smile at him but all he managed was a shy curve of his lips. Eragon waited for the message to be relayed. “The leaders have asked for you, my lord. They want you to know that a decision has been made on their part and you are required to explain your position.”

Eragon creased his forehead. Their part and my position? What is this new division within the Varden? Forcing the thoughts back, Eragon asked, “Is Arya Shadeslayer too expected?”

“She is already with the leaders, my lord.” The boy informed.

Eragon nodded curtly. “Thank you, Jarsha. I shall find my way. You are dismissed for now. Go rest.”

Eragon searched with his mind and it did not take him even a minute before he located Roran. He thought maybe he should have a talk with Blodhgarm about the arrangements being done for the leader’s mental safety as he walked towards the citadel where the meeting of the leaders was happening.

When he reached the door, he was allowed in without much questioning. As he entered the room everyone turned to look at him, stopping whatever discussion they had been having.

The tensed silence made him wonder what it was that they had been arguing about. But once his eyes settled on Arya’s face, all he could think of was speaking to her.

He waited to see if she would say anything; at least enquire about his health. When she remained absolutely silent, he felt disappointed. “Shur’tugal,” he said stiffly to her and bowed. Arya nodded at him and turned away.

“Welcome, brother,” Roran called, “We would very much like to know what you and Saphira think of our predicament.”

‘What predicament?’ He wanted to snap at Roran having fallen into a foul mood at Arya’s treatment of him but thought better of it and moved towards the empty chair to his cousin’s left.

Islanzadi sat at the head of the table. On her right was Orik and to his right was Orrin. Roran sat next to Orrin while Arya was to Islanzadi’s left. Garzhvog also had a seat and he sat to Arya’s left and Eragon took a seat to the great kull’s right.

“Shadeslayer, we were discussing the merits and disadvantages of launching an offensive on Uru’baen.” Islanzadi explained once he was seated.

Eragon’s heart nearly fell out of his chest onto the table hearing this. What merit did they find in falling into the trap set by Galbatorix for them? Uru’baen was their death bed - he knew it and he knew that every single person around the table knew it. Why would they discuss about going there? Had they given up hope of finding a valid way to beat Galbatorix?

It was true that Glaedr’s final words had haunted his waking dreams for the past week. But much like when Kuthian was mentioned to him by Solembum, Glaedr’s cryptic words that Kuthian awaited them was of no use to him. For years since Solembum gave him the advice to look for the rock of Kuthian, he had searched the libraries of Ellesmera and Farthen Dur for any mention of Kuthian and the vault of souls but had found none.

Who or whatever Kuthian was, unless they wanted to willingly help Eragon in his quest to defeat Galbatorix, Eragon was not going to find the rock of Kuthian.

“The evil king’s eyes have already been set on Farthen Dur. He now knows how to reach our capital city from the tunnels and from the Odred Valley. It won’t be long before he comes knocking.” Orik put in his point of view. “I might as well go knocking his doors and face death as my father did!”

Islanzadi nodded in agreement. “King Orik is right. But the threat to our alliance does not end with the dwarven realm. You know how Galbatorix caught hold of elves and attacked Silthrim with the information obtained from them. Before long he will slash his way through Gilderien, the Wise.” The queen said sounding ominous.

Eragon stiffened hearing this. Ellesmera was his home in every sense of the word. Losing it to Galbatorix like he did Carvahall was simply unacceptable to him.

Orrin cleared his throat forestalling whatever Eragon wanted to say. He then spoke in that over-diplomatic tone of his thus: “But what will my people gain by attacking his capital city? He may let us live as before if we don’t attack him.”

“You should have thought of this before you threw in your lot with the Varden, King Orrin.” Orik stated, sounding annoyed.

“I was forced by that woman!” Orrin muttered under his breath thinking none could hear him. But the keen ears of Eragon and the two elves in the room picked it up. Neither of them wanted to make an issue out of it. They knew how confused Orrin must feel now.

Roran let out a laboured breath and said, “I would suggest that the riders leave Alagaesia and search for this mysterious rock that my cousin thinks will be of help in defeating Galbatorix while we attack Uru’baen. That way we could buy them some time and they could sneak away when Galbatorix is engaged with us.”

“I am not going anywhere!” Both Eragon and Arya burst out at the same time each speaking for themselves.

The other leaders looked from one to the other. But the two of them glared daggers at each other, not caring what the others thought or did. Eragon did not want Arya to march on Uru’baen. He was sure of his choice. He would drug her and Indra if need be and transport them to safety.

“Let honour be won and blood be shed. And I will pray to Svarvok that it be Galbatorix’s blood.” Garzhvog thundered taking his attention away from Arya and her stubbornness.

‘If only I was born a Urgal!’ Eragon fancied. Everything seemed so simple to the war-like race. They would fight and die for honour much like the wild dragons.

‘Be careful whom you compare to our brethren, little one,’ Saphira admonished him.

‘Saphira, what do you think?’ He asked.

‘Who are we to tempt fate? If fate wants us to lay down our lives at the gates of Uru’baen then so shall it be.’

‘We are going then?’

‘Yes, we are. But not Indra and Arya. We must smuggle them to safety.’ Saphira counselled.

‘Agreed.’

The following hours were spent devising plans to take down the defenses of Uru’baen. Eragon was impressed by the amount of knowledge the elven spies had gathered about the defense mechanisms of the city. Uru’baen had once been an elven city afterall, Eragon remembered and elves had a long lasting memory.

Over the course of the long and tiresome meeting, Eragon tried to capture Arya’s attention more than once. But every time he noticed the princess’s eyes settle on him, she would quickly avert her gaze elsewhere.

And when they finally dispersed deciding to march on Uru’baen in a fortnight’s time, Eragon had lost all interest in the black city. His only aim was to catch hold of Arya before she disappeared again. But things turned unexpectedly difficult when an angry Roran came in his way and demanded to know if Eragon was out of his mind wanting to fight Galbatorix without a means to beat the false king.

Eragon watched helpless as Arya scrambled out of the room. When she noticed him being jailed by Roran, her shoulders relaxed and she reverted to her graceful walk.

“She is going, Roran.” Eragon pleaded with his cousin to understand and tried to walk around Roran.

Roran bristled and caught Eragon’s shoulder not letting him follow Arya. Eragon could very easily have pushed Roran away and run after Arya but he choose not to do so because he knew it was out of concern for his well-being that Roran was acting as he did.

He turned around to face Roran and tried to impress on him, the absolute need for him to talk with Arya. “You know how it is with me and her, brother. I don’t want her to die.” He said.

Roran was too stubborn to be moved by this plea. “And I don’t want you to die.” He shot back.

Eragon cursed out loud. “Roran, understand!”, he barked, “She is avoiding me! If I don’t get hold of her now; I won’t be able to do so until we are at the very gates of Uru’baen.”

Creases lined Roran’s forehead. It was obvious that he was not at all pleased with Eragon’s choice. The cousins locked eyes and remained thus for a while. Then the elder cousin pressed the younger one’s shoulder signifying his understanding. “Alright… Go to her. But we need to speak.”

“We will.” Eragon promised and ran out of the room.

When he came out into the corridor, there wasn’t a soul in sight except for Orik who seemed ready with his own set of questions. Eragon sighed. He knew he had lost her yet again.

Time passed at lightning pace in the following days. Eragon read and reread the Domia abr Wyrda to check if he had overlooked any reference to a Kuthian or a vault of souls. But there simply wasn’t anything in it about the things. Orik had also tasked the custodians of dwarven wisdom to look for references of the things in the libraries of Tronjheim and Tarnag. Islanzadi had sent a runner to Du Weldenvarden tasking the elves to search for the words in their scriptures.

Arya had yet again gone into hiding. In the mornings, she would be seen here and there with the soldiers and smiths of the Varden helping with building war machines and the such. But whenever Eragon tried talking to her, she gave him a petty excuse and bailed herself out of there. Eragon could not press her for fear of her lapsing back into ignoring his existence as she had done in Ellesmera.

‘Little one, the two week’s time is drawing close. When the sun rises tomorrow, battle calls will be heard.’ Saphira reminded him.

‘But what do we do?’ Eragon asked exasperated.

‘We could fight them.’

‘What?!’

‘Indra and Arya are flying together at this moment over the Leona.’ Saphira told him.

‘You mean to corner them?’

‘We have no other way.’

Eragon huffed. If the price of Arya’s safety was the cordiality he maintained with her, then, ‘So shall it be.’

By the tenth minute, Eragon and Saphira were circling Indra not allowing him to move away from the Leona lake. The emerald dragon tried every other acrobatic lesson he had taken from Saphira, but it was clear that the female dragon was the better flyer of the two.

“Saphira! This isn’t time to play. Let us go!!” Arya screamed once it was clear that they weren’t getting away from Eragon and Saphira.

“We have to talk Arya.” Eragon replied.

“I have to meet with Queen Islanzadi in a few minutes. We will talk later.” Arya answered coldly.

“I will accept responsibility for keeping you. But this is important.”

Arya’s face contorted dangerously and Eragon feared for a moment that she was going to cast a terrible spell against the two of them. But then she said, “Land Indra.”

The green dragon let out a plume of smoke from his nostrils as he dove down closely followed by Saphira. They landed on the bank of Leona where the foothills of the Spine touched the lake shore.

“What do you need?” Arya asked sounding angry.

Eragon remained silent. It was Saphira who ventured to speak. ‘We want you both to go back to Ellesmera and look for Kuthian.’

Arya glared at the two of them, but they kept their heads up and eyes connected. She wasn’t going to fight her way through this.

‘Then come with us.’ Indra said. Arya turned around to face her dragon and her expression never changed. She was glowering at him too.

So she wanted to join the battle knowing full well its outcome. She wanted to die with her army: the men of Varden, the elves of Du Weldenvarden and the dwarves. Indeed, it was a noble one. That was why Eragon and Saphira had decided to join the battle despite all the pleas and threats Roran directed at them. But they simply could not accept that fate when it came to Arya and Vanendra.

Eragon waited till Arya turned her attention to him and then said, “Didn’t you hear Glaedr? He says that Kuthian - whatever it is - awaits you. Find Kuthian and defeat Galbatorix.”

“I can say the same to you.” Arya stated flatly.

Eragon bit his lips. This woman was a sadist. She knows and yet she won’t give up. He sighed heavily and said, “Arya, I can’t let my cousin and all who I knew from childhood march into certain death without me watching their backs.”

“And what of all those I knew from childhood? What of my mother?”

“Arya… I… you… don’t Arya.” Eragon struggled to form words. Then all of sudden finding courage said resolutely, “You are not going into that battle!”

“I am not? Who are you to stop me?” Arya asked sounding irritated and then in a very composed manner raised her eyebrows and continued, “Oh, I get it! Eragon Shadeslayer, the compassionate soul who chose to die with his comrades! And Arya, the heartless who abandoned her race and mother in their greatest time of need! Isn’t that what you want?”

Eragon was so furious hearing this that he raised his hand against Arya. She did not put up any kind of resistance as he slapped her hard across her face. Blood began to collect at the edge of her lips. And still she did nothing except glower at him.

The sight of Arya’s blood killed any sense of control Eragon had and he fell to his knees as if begging. “I am sorry… I am so sorry Arya. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But why… why would you?” And then it dawned on him. She was specifically trying to disorient him so that she could escape his pleas.

“Arya, please,” Eragon said softly still on his knees, “I love you, Arya. I want you to be safe. I know… I know that… I am being selfish. But my virtues have a limit. I can’t sacrifice you. Not for anything.”

“And what makes you think that I will be able to lose you?” Arya asked calmly, no trace of anger in her voice.

Eragon was dumbstruck for a moment. But an explanation formed itself in his mind. And he found it to be perfectly logical. So he voiced it clearly and precisely: “I know you care for me; that I am a… dear friend to you. But you will get over me… when you find someone to spend your long life with.”

Arya looked away from him. But she did not give him any reply.

“Arya… look at me. Please! Promise me you won’t march with us to Uru’baen. For my sake, Arya please!” Eragon begged her. But she remained stubborn, staring away from him. Hesitantly, Eragon reached forward and grabbed her cheeks within his thumb and forefinger and turned her around.

What he found in her face shocked him. Her eyes had turned reddish and teardrops had gathered in them.

“What is the matter, Arya?” Eragon scrambled to ask.

She remained silent but made no effort to hide her tears. Neither did she get away from his touch, letting him hold her face like a child’s.

“Arya, what is it? What happened?” He reiterated.

Indra growled voicing his anger. He had remained a mute spectator even when Eragon had slapped Arya. But now a rage like no other radiated from him.

“Indra?” Eragon asked hoping to get an explanation from the dragon.

‘Just because you run around and announce to the whole world that you love her and she doesn't do so, doesn't mean that she does not love you.’ The green dragon said accentuating every word so that Eragon and Saphira heard it right.

Eragon was shell shocked. Had he heard right? Was Indra suggesting…? He had trained himself to believe that whenever such words were told to him, they were said in dreams. He wondered if he was in one right now. He pinched himself, after the way of humans, to check if it pained him for pinching doesn’t pain in dreams.

Saphira, like himself, was at a loss for words and he could not expect help from her. Eragon had to apply every lesson he had taken from Oromis and Arya to regain a semblance of composure and pose a questioning look at Arya. Words still refused to come to him. “Arya… Is… is it… is it..?,” struggled he.

“True?” Arya offered to help him out with words. There wasn’t any trace of discomfort in her. Eragon swallowed and looked on at Arya with wide eyes expecting her to answer him after she had helped him finish his question.

She did not disappoint him like other times. Mincing no words she asked, “When was the last time Indra lied to you?”

With that said the elven princess turned away from him and walked towards her partner-of-mind-and-heart. When she reached him, Indra bent down and touched her brow with his snout. She brought her hand up and caressed him. And then she climbed his back and flew away leaving Saphira and Eragon on the banks of Leona, the water splashing their feet every now and then reminding them of the passage of time.

Eragon had waited to hear those words for years now. Some remote corner of his brain told him to revel in the moment. But now that he had heard Arya confess her feelings for him, he only wished that she had not told him. He could die happily knowing that the woman he loved was safe but how could he die when he knew that the woman he loved, loved him back; when there was a life waiting for him - a life that he had dreamed about for long? Why was fate so cruel?

Author's Note:

Did you see this coming? And more importantly, how did you feel reading this? Was it forced and artificial or did it sound natural? I know slapping her is something he would not do so lightly. But then her words were as such. And I know her pride would have made her revolt but I suppose she was expecting such a reaction to her words. Please, please, please tell me if you disliked even a bit of it because this is a moment of great importance in this tale.