A/N: If you like this take a look at my other Eragon fic, "Eldest-est," which is much along the same lines of exaggerating everything Chris Paolini does… (Why can't I seem to write any serious Eragon fanfiction?)
Eragon whipped open the entrance flap to Arya's tent and pranced excitedly inside. This was obviously not a well thought out plan—it was only a few hours after the victory at Feinster, and the elf was attempting to get some well-deserved rest. Disturbed from her trance, she turned over on her cot and shot him a sharp glare. "What?" she demanded, irritable from fatigue, probably, rather than actually mad at Eragon himself.
Eragon was shocked and slightly embarrassed at the sight of Arya in nothing but a thin, pale shift, and he felt his face grow bright red. Arya, however, was as composed as ever. Blast it all, couldn't that Blood-Oath Ceremony have given him the elves' ability of not-blushing as well as their strength and speed?
Recovering himself, Eragon grinned hugely and announced, "Arya, I have a proposition for you!"
Arya groaned and turned over so that her back was to Eragon. "For the last time, Eragon, I will not go out with you."
Eragon sputtered for about a minute and a half, which Arya considerately ignored. Finally he declared, "That is not what I was going to ask you about, thanks. You know, because I'm totally over you. And everything. You know."
Realizing, perhaps, that he was not going to be gotten rid of so easily, Arya sighed and sat up. Her shift only covered the very tops of her thighs, and for a moment Eragon found he had difficulty breathing.
"Of course you are," she replied. It was only slightly obvious that she was humoring him. "Now what did you want to talk about?" Her voice grew a bit more sympathetic. "Brom? The Eldunari?"
"What?" Eragon asked, his eyebrows knitting together as if he'd never heard those two words in his life. Then recognition crossed his features and he said, "Oooh, no! Sorry, no, I wasn't thinking about either of those things at all. I was actually thinking about something you and I can do, after all this is over. Something to get a little money on the side, you know?"
Now Arya was the one caught off guard. "Money on the side?" she repeated blankly. "Eragon, you are the last free Dragon Rider, and I am the daughter of the queen of the elves. Either of us, and you especially I should imagine, has only to ask and we can get whatever we desire."
"Okay, well, it's not really about the money," Eragon said, waving away her objection. "It's more about you and I. Skills we have. Skills that I think we should totally put to use."
Arya hated to admit it to herself, but she was curious. "And what skills would those be?"
"Shade-slaying!" Eragon cried excitedly, throwing his arms out in a wide gesture for extra effect. "What do you think?"
Arya was speechless, which unfortunately gave Eragon ample opportunity to continue prattling.
"Here's how I see it, okay? Like, who do you know who's actually killed a shade and lived to tell about it? You and me, right? And we've done it TWICE. So I was thinking we could like, hit the road and just sort of go around doing this. Because there's probably lots of shades that don't get killed because they're so scary and all, you know?"
Arya took several deep breaths and then said, slowly and carefully, "What does Saphira think about this?" Saphira was wise, surely she would talk Eragon out of this nonsense…
Eragon merely shrugged. "Saphira's all for it," he replied, "She loves killing things!"
Arya counted to a thousand in her head, which elves are able to do very quickly, took another calming breath and said, "Well, that's just… wonderful. But why don't we worry about finishing this battle before we go planning our future ones, okay? Remember, you're supposed to be figuring out how to recover Galbotorix's hearts?"
"Oh right, of course," said Eragon, clearly not having remembered until Arya just told him. "Well I'd better go work on that..."
"Yes, you'd better," Arya agreed. She watched him shuffle out of her tent and then flopped back down on her cot. Eragon could be so asinine sometimes. He was kind of cute, though…
Two years later…
"Whoohoo!" Eragon cried, his entire body thrilling with exhilaration. He tried to jump up in excitement, but stumbled awkwardly on his ankle. It had been broken during the fight, and he had not had enough energy to heal it entirely. When he picked up his stride, he was limping very noticeably, but it didn't affect his grin.
In fact, the whole group was a bit worse for wear. Saphira's scales appeared singed, which would have been embarrassing for her if she weren't currently sharing in Eragon's excitement, and Arya, who was walking a few steps ahead, was bleeding profusely from a shallow gash in her side. Unlike her companions, she was glowering most direly.
"That was awesome!" Eragon said gleefully, limping along and clearly not noticing Arya's mood. Then he took a deep breath and shouted, "WHO YOU GONNA CALL?"
Immediately Saphira replied, SHADEBUSTERS.
Arya kept her lips stiffly shut. Eragon unevenly jogged up to her, muttering, "ow," each time he stepped on his bad leg, then said, "Come on, Arya! Say that catchphrase!"
"I won't," Arya hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't think we need a catchphrase. And I really don't think you needed to shout it quite so loudly when we were trying to sneak up on the shade." She paused to look at Eragon with eyes so angry they might have bored holes in his skull if he weren't so protected by his own giddiness. "What, pray tell, was the point of shielding our minds from him if you were just going to walk in and say, who you gonna call? at the top of your voice?" When she said the catchphrase herself it was with a fairly passable imitation of Eragon. The mockery went right over his head.
"We do need a catchphrase, Arya." He tsked quietly to himself before saying, "Honestly, this is why I'm the leader." He attempted to prance ahead, but when he was hindered by his injury instead he gave another great bellow of, "WHO YOU GONNA CALL?"
To Arya's disbelief and chagrin, there were two responses of, SHADEBUSTERS! One from Saphira, and one from Glaedr, who's Eldunari safely rested in one of Saphira's saddle bags.
"And why Shadebusters?" Arya demanded petulantly, realizing already that she simply couldn't win. "People call us Shadeslayer, not Shadebuster. I think that sounds better."
"Arya, Arya, Arya," Eragon said, still in that condescending tone that made Arya want to punch him in the face. "Shadeslayer is far too epic. Too once in a lifetime. But Shadebuster? That's gritty. That's cool. That's like, yeah, I totally do this all the time. You know?"
Now Arya walked slow enough so that Eragon might get ahead, if only so she wouldn't have to walk next to him. She felt herself growing slightly dizzy from blood loss, which only worsened her mood. She reached her mind out to Glaedr and demanded, What's up with you? I figured you'd be on my side in all this lunacy!
Glaedr, ever a calm, steady presence, gave a measured response. My lady, I was once a great and powerful dragon, a warrior with the freedom of the skies. Now I'm a rock in a backpack. I've got to get my kicks where I can.
Arya kicked a rocked, then swore as it stubbed her toe. Well I don't see why we should all go around doing this just because Eragon wants to. Why does Eragon get everything he wants?
Well, replied Glaedr, he did kill Galbatorix and single-handedly save the world from great evil and enslavement. As he felt how this logic increased Arya's despondency he added, And I wouldn't say he gets everything he wants…
"Hey Arya!" Eragon called, "Wanna make out?"
"Most certainly not," Arya replied. She mentally smirked at Glaedr. No, not everything.