Yo! Thank you those who have reviewed my other stories, and if you haven't…evil glare. So, I have decided to torture you readers with another of my finished fanfics that I have sitting, collecting dust in a folder on my computer. I have found a really cool way of not leaving stories unattended and half finished, it seems to work for me anyway: what you do is write the whole story, in order beginning to end, not skipping some parts to do later, and miraculously, voila! The problem was before that I did chapter by chapter and not really having a detailed and structured plot. Learn from the master…
Anyway…hope this is up to par!
Before you read: This fic should be between a T and M rating, for some possible chapters, so under 14-15's go away, maybe later nonexplicit small-moderate adult themes, mod violence
Genres: angst/hurt & comfort/drama
AN/ Arya is around 160, Eragon is about 80-85, Murtagh 85-90ish, Nasuada has an unnaturally long life 80ish (Murty and Nas's kid 45, already a fully fledged rider, training to take up throne), Orik…who knows? Roran and Katrina 82ish (they have a son, who has a wife) anyone I've missed out? Oh and Islanzadi isn't dead yet. Mr and Mrs Orik haven't had kids yet, but I mean come on, they're nearly immortal.
Disclaimer: All hamsters used for my diabolical writing experiments belong to Chris P. He came up with the idea of Eragon, published the idea, copyrighted the idea, and now, we fanfiction writers of Alagaesia are here to steal the idea for our own purposes.
Chapter One : Fated Reunion
It was a stormy, rainy day. Mist coated the window and snow fell in heaps outside.
In the small two story house, a handsome man sat in front of a roaring fireplace, a cup of steaming tea in his hands, he leaned on a sapphire blue dragon, whose head was rested upon her two front paws.
It had been close to sixty years since the defeat of Galbatorix, and even now, the former empire was still recovering and rebuilding to its former glory.
Eragon had completed the city of Doru Areaba and Vroengard. It was temporarily in the hands of a capable Murtagh, while Eragon took a prolonged holiday in Carvahall, where he build himself a dwelling, close to where Roran lived with Katrina and also where their son and his wife dwelled.
There was a soft knock at the door. He got up reluctantly and strode to the heavy wooden entry, hand picking up his sword from a hook on the way.
He cautiously opened the door.
"Arya?" His eyes widened, he had not seen her for nigh thirty years, ever since he was made the overlord of the Riders and Alagaesia's protector.
She stood shivering, wrapped in a thick black coat, her raven hair unbound and shifting slightly in the breeze. Snow dusted her hair and shoulders, and making her nose pink with the cold.
Eragon's eyebrows furrowed, "What are you-" He broke off abruptly, shaking his head.
He stood aside, "Come in," he politely put his hand on her back and waited her to pass him before shutting the door firmly.
"Let me take your coat." He said, taking a hold of a corner of the garment and assisting her in taking it off.
He showed her to the main room and went to the kitchen to fetch her a drink.
When he entered the room again, he found Arya staring at one particular fairth out of a couple others mounted on the wall above his mantelpiece.
"Who is this woman?" Arya asked, gesturing at the picture where Eragon and a pretty blonde woman stood in front of an orange sunset. His arms were encircled around her middle and her hands were resting on his. Her head was tilted back, resting on his shoulder and her amber eyes gazed dreamily at Eragon, who was looking out at the viewer. Both had extremely happy smiles stretched across their faces.
"That…" Eragon sighed, his eyes distant and reminiscent. His lips curled upward in a bitter smile.
"I shall tell you another time perhaps." He focused on her once again.
She was silent, but her eyes roved across the other portraits.
One of a young dark skinned woman with a thick black braid slung across one shoulder, her eyes warm and wise with a bloody battleground as a backdrop.
A smaller picture of an adorable young toddler with beautiful blue eyes, waving.
Another of a man, who sat regally upon a majestically crimson dragon, although the focus of the picture was far from the two, their faces were sharp, their emotions readable by one looking at the picture.
A stocky dwarf sat on a crystal encrusted throne, although his face was serious, his eyes danced with humor and friendliness, in one hand he held the staff like object Volund.
The last was a large depiction of a crowning, the dark woman from before and the dragon rider kneeling before two important looking elders, holding hands, while lips moving in the ancient vows of monarchy, eyes bright and upcast, the crowds from the farthest reaches of Alagaesia, Urgals, villagers, elves and dwarves alike assembled in front of the dais, cheering and some tearful.
Arya, also, had eyes clouded with memory, she sighed. "Such a long time ago."
She turned away and looked at him, "It has been a while, as well, since I have seen you."
"And I you."
Then he waved his hand towards the left, "Sit," He said politely.
She accepted an armchair near to the fire, while Eragon rested himself beside Saphira again, facing her.
Saphira raised her noble head, and gazed at Arya with intensity, We meet again, Arya.
"So it seems," Arya replied, inclining her head towards the dragon, who reciprocated the action.
Eragon was about to ask a question when another knock came, unlike Arya's appearance, this one was loud and enthusiastic, as if there were several little child fists were knocking.
"Barzul," Eragon swore quietly, "I forgot."
Eragon looked uncomfortable, "Lady Drottingnu, I- "
Arya held up a hand, "If I am intruding upon you, I will le- "
Eragon interrupted, "No, no, it's not that, it's just that…I have company, I was wondering if you wanted to be seen here."
"I have no objections, but I will not be in the way." She stood.
"No, it is fine, my visitors aren't picky at all who joins us."
He made his way over to the door when the knocking came furiously again.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
A loud cry of "Master Eh-gan!" Came from the entrance. A crowd of speedy blurs came in, arms wrapping around his legs and Eragon was cuddled furiously, little children jostling each other to get close to him.
Eragon turned to see a bewildered Arya standing tentatively behind him, eyebrow cocked, apparently she came to investigate the clamour.
A dozen pink and round faces from a few inches above his knees beamed at him, the little ones were wrapped warmly in thick coats, scarves around their necks, chubby hands pushed into fluffy mitts, small feet encased in snow boots and woolen hats covering their head and ears. As usual the muttering broke out, "master Eh-gon's sooo tall still, he's taller den my daddy, wayyyy talla." The little girls giggled and watched Eragon with admiring looks.
Eragon assisted them in taking off their numerous clothing, leaving them in woolen cardigans, and hanging everything up in a closet beside the door.
"What is this?" Arya had kept quiet until now.
Eragon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Every full moon, the children from the village come to my house and we…have some fun…"
When Arya still did not speak, he continued, "It's a tradition now, I'll tell you the beginning later, it's a long story, and a funny one."
Finally, she stirred, her face broke into a smile, albeit a small one, she was still nervous and reserved, conceivably disorientated from her surroundings.
"Are you going to build a giant snowhut for us and a campfire in it for us this time, Master Eh-gon?" A young boy asked, eyes wide and filled with laughter.
"Or show us magic!" A girl screamed, throwing her arms high into the air.
Eragon smiled and picked up a girl and a boy into each of his arms, leading them all into the large room.
He pointed to Arya, "Children, I would like to introduce you to Princess Arya, she lives with elves in the forest!"
The girls stared with large eyes while the boys chattered excitedly when the term 'elves' was mentioned.
Then a barrage of questions came all at once, fired quickly at the unsuspecting Arya.
"You're a PRINCESS?" A girl asked, "Do you get the nice dresses and shoes as well?"
Arya cleared her throat, "I-"… but was interrupted.
"You don't look like a princess." A boy stated, hands firmly on waist.
The addressed looked down at him, "Well, n-"
"Can I be a pwincess?" Asked the youngest looking one in the lot.
"Of course, you ca-"
Another, older girl, "What do you-"
She was interrupted by Eragon, "Children, lets not pester the princess with our questions, who wants a cup of hot chocolate?"
A loud cheering came up and hands waved in the air.
Eragon herded them into the kitchen and seated them at the crowded kitchen table in the middle.
Arya lingered, watching Eragon interact with the village younglings, looking at him, her eyes softened and she let a fond smile grace her lips. She could not help thinking that he would be a wonderful father one day.
After countless eruptions of laughter and a wild egg fight, everyone had their drink and left the eggshell covered kitchen.
They settled comfortably by the fire, children surrounded Eragon, sitting in his lap, leaning on him and several were climbed all over Saphira and clinging to the magically blocked spikes of the dragon.
'Wadda we do now, mister Eh-gon?" Said a small girl with pigtails.
"What do you want to do? I haven't planned anything for tonight, my apologies." Eragon asked, looking around.
"Tell us of a story, master!"
There was a chorus of assent.
Eragon looked thoughtful for a while.
"Once, in a village, secluded and isolated from the rest of Alagaesia, where people lived in harmony and friendship, there was a teenaged farm boy. He was out hunting one day, when he happened upon a sapphire stone, well, that's what he thought in the beginning anyway, and alas, that was the beginning, the beginning of everything…
Eragon launched into a narrative of his own life, lost in the world of the past. His listeners were attentive and fascinated, they leaned forward, seeming to absorb each of his words as he continued to speak, even Arya looked interested.
It was a long time until he finally reached the end, "…and so, it was then, they decided to go their own ways, the dwarf, the she-elf, the varden leader and the red and blue riders."
He looked around, seeming to have been brought out of his reverie at the end of the story. Some of the smaller ones were asleep on each other or in tangles of limbs on the warm floor.
An older girl asked him, eyes still interested and inquiring, "are those people still alive today?"
Eragon answered, "yes, it was a real story, all are alive, and I have met them."
"Who was the rider?" asked a male.
"You will know when you are meant to know." Eragon responded.
"So what happened to them now, mister?" Asked a childishly high voice from his right.
"Well, sweet Abigail, the dwarf became the king of his nation. The elf returned to her people. The varden leader is a queen, and rule over a country with her husband, the red rider. And the blue rider…well, the blue rider…" He faltered again.
"Rebuilt his race again, to protect the innocent and weak." Arya filled in for him kindly.
A little girl perched on Saphira asked with a curious voice, "Did the others find happiness in romance as well?"
Eragon's face seemed to darken a bit, "I wouldn't know about that, I'm sorry."
"Mister Eh-gan, did you eva git married?" Came another question.
Arya's head tilted upwards a bit.
Eragon's face, if possible, darkened even more, but the children didn't seem to take the hint.
Then he sighed, "yes, I was once…but that was a long time ago, a different and long story we will save for another time."
The children groaned and protested, but accepted in the end.
As quiet descended over the small gathering, the young ones began dropping to sleep one by one. Eragon carefully stood up and arranged some on the large, fluffy white rug in front of the cheerily and comfortably warming fire, some on the many couches and pillows scattered around. He took some warm blankets from the storage and lovingly covered each sleeping child.
Finally, he straightened and stretched, his back popping with faint clicks.
He turned, and found Arya off in sleep. He smiled, amused.
Approaching her, he cautiously slipped her boots off, left her as she was in her thick inner coat over her tunic and soft breeches, arranged her into a more comfortable looking position on the overly large settee she had fallen asleep on that was more than large enough for her, and covered her also, in a pink blanket.
He took all their cups into the kitchen, cleaned up the egg ridden war zone, stoked the fire to keep it going long into the night, yawned, and fell fast asleep against Saphira.
Hopefully I've started off on the right foot and even though this chapter is rather boring, read on because I reckon it gets better later. If I get enough feedback I might be tempted to release another fic…
Please read my other stories if you haven't and…lol, I am unashamedly advertising my works
P.s I'm still deliberating who to dedicate this story to so…my faithful fans who REVIEW…it might be one of you :-D