Hi! Well, I know I should be working on Eldunari, but this demanded it be told… stupid muse. This will be an ongoing drabble series, so if you want to see a character done just leave me a review or PM me… Yeah. Don't worry, Chapter 15 of Eldunari is with my beta, so it should be up within the next few days!!
This is a series of drabbles dealing with the infamous "Five things that never happened." Basically, the author(in this case, me) writes a five- part vignette with mini- plots that never occured, like Murtagh escaping the Twins or Eragon stopping his love for Arya. Yay!!! But I added my own twist as usual, so this is "FTTNH and the One Thing That Did!" Whoop!! First up is Eragon!! I had an obscene amount of fun with this one… Seriously. My sadistic side had a field day.
Disclaimer- CP owns everything. All I own is a rather irritable, fickle muse with a taste for the macarbe and a tempermental, sensitive computer named Yoko, who has a knack for causing me grief…
Five Things That Never Happened
"You must kill him if we are to survive."
The order rings in your ears as you gaze up at the smoke- smeared sky, scanning for the prick of red in the horizon. Fear and agony clench around your heart, and you feel like crying because of what you have to do. Beneath you Saphira leaps powerfully into the air, her heart as heavy as yours. You know what you must do.
Brisingr seems to sing in your grasp, eager to be unleashed on the enemy. But instead of diving to attack the Empire's soldiers below you fly on, aiming for the prick of red that grows steadily larger. The elves and the Varden are thrashing below the blot of red, boiling under the fierce gouts of crimson flame Roran is down there, you realize, fighting for his life.
Your blood runs cold, because he is there, killing them all, watching flames devour those below like they had devoured his very being. You see him riding the warm air, glittering in his armor, sharp pain grasped in his mailed hand. The fire is leaping from his dragon and his hands. He is burning your friends.
Rage blooms in your chest and you roar like the dragon you are becoming. Then the world is all blue and red and fire and flashing fangs, and you can't even think, let alone mourn.
You catch a glimpse of him,; a face so like your own, but with longer, darker hair and blazing blue eyes and sorrow etched into the features, as though drawn there by the point of a sword. Your heart freezes again, and you hesitate. He does not.
Reeling in agony, you nurse your bloody shoulder, snarling in pain along with Saphira. Hate blossoms with the rage, and you want to kill. The attack is renewed, the legions of dead souls adding to your strength.
He and his Thorn are no match for you and your Saphira and the battle is brief and vicious. The red is pinned to the cliff face; there is no escape. Your brown eyes meet his icy blue and for the first time you see regret sparkling there, and pain.
His blue meets your brown, and in that moment, the red blade lowers. You feel your eyes widen in shock and the hate lessens.
"Kill me." He says. "End it." Then he smiles.
A flash of blue, a screech of pain, white talons lashing out, and then blood flows down from the shattered sky like rain and two bodies fall down to land harshly. Cheers erupt from the Varden but you don't care, because your hand are shaking and your face is white as death. You have killed your brother.
The Empire is in retreat, fleeing the cheering, whooping Varden. You should go and help them, but you can't. Instead you and Saphira sink slowly down, to their crushed bodies. They could be sleeping if it wasn't for the gaping wounds and the awkward positions of their limbs. Saphira goes and nudges Thorn into a more natural position, but you can not bring yourself to touch your brother. He looks so much like yourself when he smiles. The rare phenomenon is on his face now, and you realize that you have never seen him smile. Pain explodes inside you and your heart is breaking and your mind is screaming. Somehow you manage to stumble away and collapse against Saphira's hard blue scales. You wish you could cry, but all you can do is limp back to the Varden, subject to their cheers and approval. Drinks are thrust at you and you willingly drink them, for it is better to forget and drown your sorrows. Nasuada tells you the Varden will march on Uru' baen in two days. You will be sober by then, but never the same.
Even without his most valuable servant the King was a terrible foe, and the battle rages for a long time. But in the end you triumph, freeing Alagaesia and fulfilling your destiny. Murtagh would have liked that, you think. He would have been happy you killed the King. But he would have wanted to be there with you, to have helped you defeat his tormentor. You think that maybe you will visit his grave, bring the good news. But you never do, because he already knows, and you can not shake the feeling that his grave is your own.
You never do visit his grave, but sail away from Alagaesia and your pain, watching the mountains shrink into the blue sea. You do not look back, not then, not ever, just like you do not cry for Murtagh and the life he lost.
(Part of you mourns your brother, who will never again smile, but you cannot bring yourself to cry, because you have looked into his smiling face and seen yourself, and one does not cry over one's own death)
"Forget me, Eragon, and move on."
Those words sliced out your heart when she spoke them, after you had proclaimed your love for her and asked her to marry you. She spoke them unfeelingly and left you there, shocked and broken. That day your heart died.
You threw yourself into your work, rebuilding the Riders after a century of oppression. After a time a woman caught your eye, and she was happy to fill the void left by her rejection. But she was a mortal woman, and she died, leaving you colder and emptier than ever.
Centuries passed, and a crime was committed against one of the elves. The crime stirred up long forgotten thoughts in your frozen mind, and you decide to go to her funeral.
She lies on the white casket, her raven hair pulled back, her brilliant eyes close forever, her face paler than you remember. They tell you it was a brutal attack and their were no survivors. A blow to the throat killed her. You gaze down at her body, the faint remnants of love, regret, and sorrow stirring in your heart. You find yourself dimly surprised, because it has been a long time since you have felt any of these emotions. You touch her face, almost tenderly, a last testament to the love that destroyed you.
"Forget me." Her voice whispers. And you do.
(Once you dreamed of spending eternity with her, but that dream died with your heart on that day so many years ago. You are on your fourteenth wife now, and you realize with a jolt of dry irony that they all have had green eyes)
"Join me, and you can have all the power in the world."
His promise thrums in the air around you as you bind yourself to him, the words falling from your tongue in a joyous, eager cascade. Excitement throbs in your veins. At last you will have the power to stop your enemies from hurting the ones you love. Unflinching you bind yourself to the one man you swore to destroy, and he willingly gives you his power. It surges through you hungrily, tearing away all regret and other weak emotions you feel. You can save them now, you know.
You and Saphira fly to the battle, where your loved ones are, fighting. A flick of your wrist and the fighting stops, for half the combatants are dead. He Varden is dissolved, you announce, and when Nasuada tries to protest you kill her. How easy it has become, killing. Now your loved ones will be safe, free. The Varden's leaders are executed one by one, an example, you say.
Roran will be the first to receive your protection. You have him drafted into the army. He will rise quickly through the ranks, you think ,and provide his wife and child with the best possible future. It comes as a surprise to you to learn that he was charged with betrayal and must be killed, but your King has ordered it and it must be so. You watch his execution passively, your eyes meeting his.
"I hate you!" He screams. "Traitor!" His eyes dim and his life fades. This should bother you, but it doesn't.
Murtagh tries to free you, but he too is sentenced to death. A brief flare of disappointment crosses your mind, for after all you offered him your protection too, but he rejected it in favor of death. His blue eyes remain on yours all he is killed, never once leaving your face. For a time they will haunt your nightmares, but you are past the ability to mourn and regret now, wrapped up in the darkness as you are.
You approach the last of your loved ones, power extended, sweet words on your lips. You can protect her, you say, her and her unborn child. She will never have to be afraid again.
"No." She says in her low, musical voice. "No, Eragon. I can't, not now."
A part of you screams in torment and dies, but the other part grabs Brisingr and runs her through, crimson staining her white dress. "I'm sorry you feel that way, love. We could have been great together." You say, not really sorry at all, for Eragon is gone, lost in the violent swirls of power and loss and hate.
"You monster!" She screams, her words blistering, burning your very soul, and then the world is silent. You walk away, for she is most surely dead and you will never think her name again. You will rule at your master's side forever, and no one will dare rise up and oppose you.
(The image of her would have tortured you forever, but Eragon is dead, and the monster in his place does not feel remorse or regret, he accepts, and moves on)
"You cannot keep a dragon here! What will happen to Roran and I?"
You shuffle through the snow, numb and broken. You have been kicked out of your own home, by your own flesh and blood, but that is not the worst of it. Garrow killed her. He raised a knife to her blue throat and killed her. How could he? Did he not see the innocence shining in her sapphire eyes? You screamed and screamed and screamed when he killed her, as though part of yourself had been torn away. He kicked you out, fear on his face, and in your shattered state you do not know why.
"Easy, lad, easy." Old Brom the storyteller is there beside you, gruffly holding your shaking elbow.
"He killed her." You whisper brokenly, your eyes unseeing.
Brom wraps you in a fatherly embrace as you cry, empathy in his voice as he murmurs to you. Your tears soak his shirt, and all you can think about it the blue hatchling who so eagerly scurried along your floor that morning.
(In the back of your mind you are dimly aware of the Fates howling in rage, because their grand plan has ended and the world is still doomed in darkness, but you cannot bring your shattered heart to care, because your mind screams for hers and your soul bleeds for hers. Fate did this to you, and you cannot bring yourself to forget and forgive)
"One day you will leave this land and never return."
The war is finally over, you have won, and Alagaesia is at peace. The Riders are flourishing again and a new King has ascended the throne, one who is wise, just and mortal. You should be happy ,but you are not. Something out there is calling to you, singing a song of new things in your ear. You want to go to it, but neither you nor Saphira knows where it is.
For some reason you keep returning to the sea, gazing out at the unfamiliar, vast, sparkling blueness that reaches to the horizon, drowning the sun each hand every evening. Yu gaze out to the sinking sun, hollowness in your chest.
"The sea used to call to me when I was a boy." Your brother steps up to stand beside you, his blue eyes fixed on the sea. "I would stand on the shore for hours, lost in the vastness of it."
"Do you think there is anything out there?" You ask. He grins at you.
"One way to find out, brother." He walks away, leaving you to think. Perhaps the reason you feel so hollow is because there is nothing left for you to accomplish here in Alagaesia. Angelar's prophecy whispers in your ears, and you know where the song is coming from.
That very day you and Saphira and Murtagh and Torn leave for the world beyond the sea, Arya and Nasuada tagging along for company. None of you know what lies past the horizon, but the humans and elves had to come from somewhere, and after all, you have eternity to discover what lies where the sun sets.
(Never once do you look back, for you crave adventure and purpose in your life, and feeling hollow drains you. This is a much better lifestyle for you, to sail without reason to the unknown world. The hollowness you found in your birthplace will never touch you again)
And The One Thing That Did
"She is the one woman I want to spend eternity with."
The stars light up the glade in Ellesmera, dancing off the crystal pool. You can see the apprehension in her green eyes, wariness, and also love.
"It's beautiful here." She murmurs.
"Not as beautiful as you." Your response is automatic and sincere. "Arya… I love you." You tell her, truth ringing through your bond and the ancient language. You bend down on one knee, smiling at the surprise in her emerald eyes. You pull out the ring you made. It is a simple thing, with a dwarf- cut diamond set in a band of the purest silver. "Will you marry m?" Your voice is gentle when you ask the question that has always lain dormant in your heart, since the moment you first laid eyes on Arya in your dreams.
"Oh Eragon…" She says softly. Her eyes met yours, and she smiles. "Yes."
You laugh joyfully, a song in your heart and in the voices of all the forest animals as they sing out the good news. You kiss the only woman you have ever loved more passionately than you ever have before, fierce joy burning in your lips and heart. The wedding will take place in two months, and you know exactly who to ask to perform the ceremony.
(The shock on Islanzadi's face is almost as priceless as Arya's laughter, and you doubt that poor Murtagh will ever recover from the wedding feast, especially since he had never seen Roran naked)
Ah, that felt wonderful... I really had a good time playing around with this. Some clarifiaction: the first is Eragon killing Murtagh, which hasn't happened as off yet. The second is briefer, in which Arya rejects Eragon and he forgets her. The third, my favorite, is a dark Eragon bit, and I do believe a follow- up might be needed. The fourth is shorter, where Garrow kills Saphira, and the fifth is Eragon leaving.
What do you all think? Good, bad, awful? I personally have become enamoured with the dark Eragon idea, and might explore it later... YAY!!! Alright, so if you want to see a character done, leave me a review or PM me, butbe sure to offer some ideas... My muse is not all- creative, and is prone to failing in times of need...
Review, and Eldunari will be updated soon. Love ya! ~WSS