Opening Statement and all that jazz.
This is my first fic, and there's probably a ton of errors floating around (I'll find them, eventually) so I apologize for that. Anyways, this is an Eragon and Arya one shot that takes place centuries after Inheritance. They may appear a little OOC at times, but it is slightly intentional, as I don't believe people act the same forever. They change and talk differently, depending on what they are influenced by.
Also, if you do (or don't) recognize my name, I'm that crazy artist from deviantART that's been doing Inheritance (mostly Eragon/Arya) fanart for years. If you want to check that out, my devpage can be found on my profile. My most recent entries show how I imagine Eragon during this fic.
Copyright Infringement: No, I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. It's Paolini's.
A Moment in Eternity
Eragon sat on his surprisingly comfortable throne while he listened to his fellow riders discuss the events and politics of Alagaësia and the other known lands.
The room was large, tall and dark, illuminated only by coloured fire that circled the room behind the seated riders. Each rider sat in similar, yet smaller seats than Eragon and wore clothing respective of their cultural backgrounds with colours that represented their dragons scattered among their person.
Eragon himself was wearing his usual dark leathers, a green tunic similar to the ones he wore in Ellesmera centuries ago, underneath a mountainous indigo cloak layered with wolf furs and armour that rested on his shoulders.
He watched as his riders told of the peace and conflict throughout the surrounding lands, a sense of pride swelling throughout him as he listened to Rider Kadvar, a Kull, tell of his victory in the south. He had protected the harvest of the southern villages from raiding bandits. Having trained Kadvar years ago, Eragon was pleased of his student's work.
His eyes once again wandered to the rider dressed in green and black as it had many times during the meeting already, their hair long and held back by a glowing leafed circlet of diamonds. She sat in her seat with her legs crossed and arms upon their rests as she listened to another rider speak of the rising danger of Surda and what seemed like an inevitable rebellion against the Empire and Varden.
"I once agreed that any attack upon the Varden would be seen as an attack on my own people," said Arya, Queen of the elves, as she stirred from her silence. "Surda knows this, but if they are still determined to go to war, the elves shall march to Ilirea to defend it."
"The Varden and humans do not think they need the help of the elves, and the Order of Mages has always been at odds with your kind since its creation," replied Rickard, who was of human blood and pale hair. "Any involvement with the elves, urgals or dwarves will cause more unneeded conflict. The humans view this as their war."
"And Surda would still be more weary of attacking if they knew they would be facing all the members of the Varden, not just the humans." Arya replied in kind, and there was a murmur of agreement amongst the riders.
To his left, a woman leaned forward, "Perhaps conflict could be avoided, an agreement could be met between both the Varden and the Surdans." Eragon's niece and one of the oldest riders, Ismira said. "There is no need for war; blood shed should not be the answer."
"Please, the entire alliance between the Varden and Surda is made up of tense agreements and empty promises. It has been for centuries, any agreement they make now will only crumble away in time," Ganvis remarked snidely. "A temporary peace is well and good, but who else will have to deal with it when the time comes but us? Let them have their war now so that it is over sooner rather than later."
"It may not be such a bad idea," Travis, Rider of Speira, commented from across the hall, his head resting on his hand. "Even now the Surdan pirates raid the ports and ships of Belatona and Dras-Leona like they have before. They already forget why they stopped a hundred years ago after Speira and I killed the lot of them. They think we forget things so easily."
"Then perhaps you should aid the Leona ports as you have before, Rider Travis." Stannis suggested as he tapped the hilt of his silver sword. "It may start this war, if we are lucky."
Ismira turned to Eragon, "Uncle please, you have fought endlessly to keep Alagaësia and even the new lands in peace. You cannot just let it go to waste!" she pleaded. "Surely, if you go to Alagaësia yourself, this can all be avoided! Surda would never dare attack the Varden with you in their way. Not the Leader of the Riders and saviour of Alagaësia."
There was silence in the hall as all eyes turned towards him. Green eyes met his dark ones and they held for a moment before he looked away and turned his attention upon Ismira.
"I will not go back to Alagaësia for something like this," he began slowly, his words leaving no room for objection. "When the Ra'zac returned, I returned to hunt them. When the Great Shadow threatened Alagaësia, I destroyed it. Unless it is necessary, I will never return to Alagaësia unless it cannot be helped. This is not one of those times."
"But you were there just eight years ago! You—" Ismira began.
"That was different," he cut across darkly. He did not wish to upset Ismira, she was an extraordinary rider with a good heart, like her father's and he loved her dearly. Her red hair framed her sad grey eyes as she held back her disappointment. Having heard enough on the subject, he decided to end the meeting.
"Ismira, you and nine others will fly to Alagaësia to resolve the matter. I may be who I am, but that does not discredit your own self and name. You are Ismira, Daughter of the Legendary Stronghammer, of my blood and Rider of Gavlin," he stated, he turned away from her and spoke then to the rest of the members of the order. "These ten will help the Varden and tell Surda that if they wish to go to war with Ilirea and the rest of the Empire, then we will make sure that Surda will no longer be an independent kingdom. They will face the might of ten Riders and their dragons; and the Varden will absorb its people and lands as its own. It is their choice."
He stood and the others stood with him, but made no attempt to leave. They nodded, understanding what had been said the task that had been given. He walked swiftly towards the door, which opened on their own accord, and left the Hall and Order of the Riders.
The corridor was bright, light flooding into the massive arched halls from the windows that lined them. It was winter and snow fluttered across the panes of glass and his breath misted before him as he stood for a moment outside the court, the doors having shut behind him.
He did not stay there for long.
How was the meeting? You seem agitated. Saphira said as her mind touched his to observe the events of the last few hours with little interest.
It could have gone better; Niduan asked if he could take his students to the north to continue their studies. He answered, drawing his furs and cloak tightly around himself to fend the cold. Perhaps Dartwen will learn respect easier among the nomadic tribes of the north.
Doubtful, Saphira commented. And you send Ismira to Alagaësia to resolve the unrest between the Kingdoms?
Yes, I can trust her to make the right decisions on my behalf...the others may only encourage the war, was Eragon's reply. What of you? Where are you?
I am with Fírnen and the little ones in the southern glade.
Don't be too long, Eragon. Saphira concluded, pulling away and focusing her attention elsewhere.
Outside the windows, the expanse of the Rider's castle descended, carved and built out of the mountain it was built upon, its towers rivalling the height of the now snowy peak. Below them, a city that housed Riders, their families and people who chose to live under the shadow of the Rider's domain lived, worked and slept. The rest of the island was forest before cliffs dropped to the treacherous seas below.
It was a good home, one that Eragon prided himself with and had built so long ago. It was a worthy land for the dragons.
Sighing, Eragon ran his hand through his hair as he continued through the labyrinth of giant corridors towards his study. He absentmindedly went over the meeting in his mind. He would have Ismira meet him tomorrow to go over her mission to Alagaësia and discuss who she thought should accompany her.
Perhaps Vanis should go, if Ismira had not already considered it. It would be a great experience for the young rider having just completed his training under Ismira. Vanis would surely be eternally grateful towards Eragon for the chance. He smiled at the thought, letting a chuckle escape him.
Arya would go without anyone's consent, stubborn in her ways as always.
His mind derailed at the thought of her. She had walked into the meeting seconds before it was to begin with her head held high and as graceful as ever. Annoyed at her aloof behaviour, he had watched her cross the hall and take her seat beside Garik, a dwarven rider who also served as an ambassador to his people. After sitting down, she had shot Eragon a quick smile, her brow mockingly questioning the scowl that was spread over his face.
It had only annoyed him further and she had spent the rest of the meeting ignoring him and never meeting his eyes save that one time near the end.
She knew exactly how to push his buttons.
Distracted by the mere thought of her, he rounded a corner of the hallway only to have something crash into him. There was a thud and the sound of many books hitting the ground.
Recovering, he opened his eyes to view the scene before him.
A young human boy was shaking his head as he sat amongst the books that now lay scattered on the floor. A teenaged dwarf stood beside his fallen comrade, his eyes like glass, his mouth open in surprise with a growing horror as he looked at Eragon, down at his friend and then back at Eragon.
"Ouch... Hey! Watch where you're going!" the boy huffed as he dusted his knees and grabbed a book.
The dwarf looked horrified and quickly rushed forward to stand beside the boy. He bowed, nearly losing hold on his own stack of books, "Eragon-elda! I apologise, we were running, the fault is ours!"
The boy seemed to freeze as he slowly looked up to face Eragon, terrified.
"Good afternoon Feravik," he replied with a smile on his face. He looked down at the boy. "And to you as well Victor."
Victor flew to his feet, dropping the little books he had gathered and bowing. "Eragon-elda! My deepest and sincerest apologies, the fault is mine. I was running and not paying attention!"
"It is quite alright, Victor. I was not paying attention either. Had I, I would have been able to prevent this. I think that in this case, we can both agree that the fault lies with the both of us," he replied pleasantly to the surprised boy. "Though, I would like to know why you two were running."
"Master Murtagh sent us to gather research from the library, but we've been tardy," Feravik supplied as Victor hastened to pick up his books, his face red with embarrassment. "We were running to make up for lost time. Ebrithil will kill us; we should be practicing with our swords right now."
"I am sure my brother will be forgiving, he can be kind occasionally," Eragon responded as Victor stood with his books in hand, his blue eyes cast to the stone floor. "If he isn't, send him my regards and tell him that he really should stop skipping my meetings. The two of you should have the afternoon off like the other students and he should have been with the rest of the Elder Riders."
"Y-yes Eragon-elda!" both Feravik and Victor replied, grinning as Eragon winked, ruffling Victor's dark hair as he passed them and continued on his way.
After several minutes, he reached his destination and entered his study. He closed the door behind him, leaving it unlocked for the expected company.
He could have left the door wide open for all it matter.
He had just sat in his chair after lighting the fireplace with magic when the door quickly opened and shut in silence. He was bent over some letters when he heard the door lock. Still he didn't look up, observing a gouge in the sturdy desk instead.
"Eragon." the soft and melodic voice said in greeting.
"Mmmm," was his only response as he rested his head against his hand and tapped the desk with his other.
There was a sigh and rather quickly, Eragon felt slender and warm fingers under his chin as they forced his head to face a rather annoyed Arya.
"Greetings Arya-Drottning, what a surprise," Eragon greeted.
Her eyes grew sharp, "Surprise? I thought it was you who asked me here?"
"I did, but I also thought you had agreed to spend the morning with me, but you were late. I suspect you arrived on the island only minutes before the meeting too," Eragon replied, attempting to suppress a smile. "How was I to know that you had not forgotten this meeting as well?"
Arya huffed as Eragon pushed his large chair back and away from the desk as Arya settled herself upon the desk's top.
"You are being so difficult," she replied. "And childish."
"So were you," he replied in turn, smiling. She returned his smile radiantly, a flit of laughter escaping her. And once again Eragon was lost to her beauty.
"How have you faired?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
"I have been well, busy with the construction of Farlín, but well," she replied as she traced the grain of the desk with one of her thin fingers. "And you?"
"Bored mostly, Saphira and I yearn for the spring when we can travel to the north westerly lands. Until then we do as we have for centuries and make sure the hatchlings do not tear each other apart," Eragon sighed. "Sometimes I envy you; riders are so much harder to look after than the elves, even without taking some of them off of your hands."
"Do not look to me for pity, you do not have to directly deal with Alagaësia's affairs. With the Order of Mages running around untamed, let alone all the tension between the provinces and races, I should envy you." Arya replied with a scowl before smiling. "Besides, your people are far too curious, speak lies and gossip. To the extreme where I have made it a point to avoid Ilirea."
"Really?" Eragon asked, raising his brows. "What do they say?"
"The people of Alagaësia whisper tales of how my people are a wicked race, no doubt spread by the magicians. We elves are not as accepted in human cities and towns as we should be," Arya replied, playing with her hair. "And they also speak of scandalous affairs. For instance, that the Leader of the Riders has captured the heart of the Queen of the Elves."
Eragon smiled as he took her left hand and cradled it between his own. "They are not far off, but the real truth is how the Queen has held the Rider's heart for so much longer." he whispered as he gazed into her eyes while brushing his lips across the knuckles of her hand. "Centuries and centuries, his heart never changing."
There was a moment of silence between them as Arya smiled softly. He gently tugged her forward and she slid off the desk only to settle beside him on his chair, their legs entangled and his arm wrapped around her.
"Does it bother you that they speak of us?" Eragon asked, running his fingers through her soft hair. He had never asked her before, but he knew that the people of Alagaësia, even the riders, spoke of them. First it was all speculation, tales of long distanced romantic affairs between two of the most powerful figures. All was unconfirmed as neither he nor Arya felt the need to share their relationship with anyone. He didn't care what others thought, whether bad or good. He was happy.
But ever since physical proof of their relationship had confirmed centuries of tales that had eventually turned to bedside stories for the humans, there was no hiding it.
"No," she said quietly, tracing the silver designs on his tunic in thought. "I do not care what they think, but you humans tend to be so crude and vulgar... I could withstand that, but it is not something that Kevan needs to hear."
Eragon felt his heart flutter at the name, "And how is Kevan? He's with Saphira and Fírnen, but I have not seen him since early summer."
"You saw him just last week before we departed, when I scryed you." she replied, amused.
"There's a difference between seeing my son in person than through a mirror," he answered.
"It wouldn't have to be this way if you just got over that prophecy, it doesn't define who you are and fates always change," was her testy reply, always taking the chance to bring up her disapproval of his determination to avoid Alagaësia. "I know that your home is here, but it's been centuries Eragon, it can run a month without you."
"I came back eight years ago," he replied, tracing the contour of her face lightly. "For months."
Kevan had been a pleasant surprise. Arya had been here for the winter meeting years ago. A month later she had contacted Eragon in a panic; she could not travel to the Rider's home for fear of it being far too dangerous for the child. So, Eragon had departed to Du Weldenvarden in haste, spending the spring and summer there for the birth of their child.
Eragon had only seen a few elven children, but never had he seen a half elf with human blood. But he had been beautiful and Eragon had been devastated to leave. It felt like the first time, except that he was leaving a lot more behind. Still, Arya always brought Kevan with her and when they could, they would talk through mirrors.
Eragon felt like a distant father, but not by choice.
Arya watched him with interest, a soft smile on her face as she ran her fingers through his hair. Whether attempting to make it neater or perhaps messing it up further, he did not know. "Yes, that was nice. Those are my most precious of memories."
He smiled, "Mine as well," he then leaned towards her, his lips at her ear, as he darkly suggested "But I still treasure every moment spent with you, especially our first affairs."
Arya pulled him gently away by his hair, a haughty expression on her face despite it being flushed.
"You treasure the time we both got drunk off dancing, mead and magic?" she asked in disbelief.
"Well, I like to thank my drunken self every day, because whatever I did, I somehow go you to—" he began before she placed her fingertips on his lips and gave him a glare. He had once feared angering Arya, but it was rare now that she was ever truly angry with him, perhaps only annoyed and amused, never actually angry—unless he did something extreme.
He decided to be daring.
"There was a story I heard while in the north, would you like to hear it?" he asked.
Arya studied him, doubt crossing her face, yet curiosity winning out in the end. "All right." If there was one thing about Arya, it was that she was very interested in the lives and tales of other races and cultures. She would not deny any chance at new information when given the option.
"In the north, there is a tale that wise women and storytellers sing and speak of," he began, drawing her close as she sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "There were once heroes, Alexander born of the moon and Fiona born of the sun—"
"What do you mean? Of the sun and moon?" Arya interrupted, her breath tickling his neck.
"They hailed from a city that I have never been to, but it was how they named themselves to the people of the north. Simply, if you were born under the moon's sky, you were a moon child. The same for the sun as well," Eragon answered, and she murmured that it was an interesting custom. "Despite travelling far, they made a home in the north and defended the land, for they were strong and just."
"Unfortunately, one day the man, Alexander, grew sick and weak. The magic and powers within began to eat away at his being. Thus, the pair travelled far and wide in search for a cure," Eragon continued. "On their travels, they heard legends of a spring within the mountains that could cure any illness. They spent their time searching for it, and finally they found the spring deep within a mountain in the snowy peaks.
"Alexander bathed in its waters, his strength returned and the heroes rejoiced at their success after their long journey. But as they tried to leave the cave, Alexander fell unable to leave, his powers and strength vanishing. A great entity, a goddess appeared before them and told them that because Alexander used her spring, that he could not leave her domain. The goddess was mad that mortals had abused her sacred place and claimed Alexander for her own." Eragon continued. "Fiona, desperate to save her partner, struck a deal with the goddess."
There was silence and Eragon enjoyed the sensation of Arya wrapped in his arms, her fingers still dancing across his tunic.
"Fiona pleaded with the goddess, that Alexander was a good man who had done heroic deeds for many, he could not die. She must set him free and return his powers. The goddess agreed upon one condition: that Fiona herself would serve his imprisonment. Fiona agreed to the deal and Alexander's powers were returned while Fiona turned to ice in payment."
"Why would she be frozen? Couldn't she simply be chained to the cave like Alexander was?" Arya asked.
"She had not bathed in the spring, so to keep her there, the goddess froze her." Eragon responded. "Although, I assume that the goddess could have forced her to bathe in the spring. Regardless, you are interrupting."
"My deepest apologies, oh great Eragon Shadslayer," she mocked.
"Well, Alexander was distraught to find that Fiona had turned to ice. He could not leave her, despite how she had sacrificed herself to set him free. But she was still living, her pulse still beating under the ice. Alexander held her hand for days and nights, crying for the one who he had never confessed himself to, for it was clear afterwards that she had loved him very much. He was determined that he would remain where she was until the day came when he could say the things he wished he had said.
"Eventually, the tears turned to ice and slowly he entombed himself within them. Forever, the two of them stand in ice until one day when the mountains and snow melt away, they will be together again." Eragon finished and waited for Arya's response.
"So he dishonoured her by ignoring the freedom she paid for?" Arya asked snidely, although he sensed that she got his underlining message.
"Perhaps, but I like to think he could not abandon her like how she could not him," he replied. "I just find it remarkable what lengths people go through to stay together, never wanting to be a part."
"Eragon..." Arya started, raising her head as she looked at him, annoyance set upon her features. "I do not wish to—"
"Arya, we have a child! Yet you still deny Kevan a family that he deserves. Now that Merrik has hatched for Kevan, he will eventually have to come here to train and you will be alone in Alagaësia," he demanded.
"Eragon, I am Queen to the Elves, I cannot—" Arya started.
"And they'll survive without you. Perhaps you were needed to reclaim the glory that was once the elves, but it has been centuries and your race flourishes more than ever. You have done your part, let another take over!" Eragon insisted. They had had this argument many times over the years, his persistence rising after the birth of Kevan. "You are a rider Arya! This is your home, as much as it is Kevan's!"
"This is not something that can be decided so easily nor quickly, Eragon." Arya responded. "Elven politics are different than yours, you must understand—"
"Damn your politics Arya! It is a web that you allowed yourself to get caught in. You are a rider, you should not be chained by such things." he snarled, his anger getting the better of him. "They convinced you to take the throne, now you must convince them that you have done your service and that it is your time to abdicate."
There was a heated silence as they stared at each other, Arya looking like she wished to cause him harm. The moment seemed to last for ages, their growing feud thickly suffocating them. Suddenly Arya sighed and took his face with her hands.
"This is not the night to speak of this Eragon, I am here for a week, let us not start it this way already," she said softly. "I will consider you upon this matter though, and you know that this is much more than I have ever done."
"Because you always dismiss my claims to you..." he whispered and she graced him with a glare.
"Hush, now...Eragon..." she whispered in command as she said his true name, Eragon shuddering in response as he whispered her true name in return with the same results.
Her lips pressed against his heatedly, her hands moving from his face to his hair, his own arms ensnaring her, willing her to stay with him forever.
With her lips still occupied, Arya's hands trailed down to his chest, quickly untied and unlatched his tunic, exposing his chest above his belt. Her fingers slid under his clothes, snaking across his chest before attempting to unchain his cloak and rid him of his furs. Eragon busied himself with combing his fingers through her hair, drowning in the scent of pine while his other hand rose up her side.
Breaking apart, Arya moved back to study him with dark eyes, a slight smile gracing her as she looked at his exposed chest. She had given up with his cloak for the time being.
"Sometimes, I think you only agreed to mate with me because of my rugged looks and the muscles that only men can have," he suggested. "Not that I blame you, the elven males are all as thin and tall as newly grown trees. The fact that the dragon's magic made me appear like your people is perhaps a positive trait for you."
She laughed as she shook her head, denying his claims. "Eragon, I love you for your heart, not because of your looks."
"Then you are saying that you don't appreciate my body?" he asked, laughing.
"I never said that..." she giggled, kissing his chest above his heart. "Do you forget when you lusted for me when you were young? You are not one to accuse me of such things."
"Because you were the most beautiful thing I ever laid my eyes on," he whispered, drawing her close.
"Do not let Saphira hear you say such," she said back before kissing him again, their passion escalating as Eragon moved his lips down her jaw, nibbled her ear and then proceeded to kiss her neck as she held him to her. Her breathing was heavy as she moaned his name into his ear.
He could not help but smile into her neck.
He lifted her, rising to his feet as they abandoned his chair for the desk in front of them. His hands ran over her clothed body as she lay on the desk, her legs wrapped around him.
"Perhaps... we can... have ... another ... ah— another child," he suggested between their kisses. Eragon knew that children were not as abundant with the elves as they were with the other races, for they were the ultimate bond of love between a mating pair. And while such things were not taken lightly with the elves he felt Arya nodding desperately beneath him.
He grinned into their kiss, his hands roaming over her chest as he worked to unbutton her collar with one hand. As he moved once more to her neck, kissing her newly exposed flesh, she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, ordering him to love her.
Instead of replying with the many sarcastic and snide remarks that he could have, he remained silent, kissing her more desperately than before.
"Upstairs... please...Eragon," she moaned wrapping her arms tightly around him. No longer able to deny her and his own desire, he lifted her up from the desk, gathered her in his arm and was ready to sprint to the door behind them that lead to the rest of his and Saphira's chambers.
Suddenly, there was a thud against the door as someone wrestled unsuccessfully with the handle and most likely ran into its wooden frame. The loud noise resulted in with Eragon dropping Arya back on the desk in surprise.
She looked annoyed, grabbed his belt to pull him closer as she whispered, "Ignore them. You are not here. We are going to pretend that you are not here and continue this upstairs. Like planned."
Eragon found himself dumbly nodding, under the spell of her dishevelled clothes and hair, courtesy of his attention to her. But then a voice spoke out from behind the door.
"Hey! Why is the door locked!" came the voice of their son, Kevan. "I don't know Merrik, Saphira said that father was in his office. Was she lying? Hey! Father! Are you in there?"
Eragon let out a sigh as a horrified look spread across Arya's face as she undid all the work she had accomplished on his tunic, restoring it to its former state. "I take it back, one son is enough. I will not ever have you to myself if we have two."
She laughed lightly, fixing herself as Eragon made his way to the door to unlock it. He opened the door to reveal a small boy questioning a small hatchling of a dragon. However, upon seeing Eragon, Kevan launched himself at him, nearly knocking him over.
"oof—" he groaned as Kevan pulled back. He had dark hair like him, although it was set about his face like his mother's. His ears were pointed, his wild green eyes set upon his excited pale face.
"Hello, Kevan," he greeted, kneeling as he placed his hands on the boy's shoulders as he studied him. "You've grown so much since I last saw you! And now you are bound to a dragon, you are a rider!"
Kevan laughed, "Yeah! Now I'm just like you and mother!" he said excitedly as he showed Eragon his gedwëy ignasia, his chest swelling with pride. A dragon with sea green scales, for it looked like someone has mixed the hues of both Saphira and Fírnen together, walked up to Eragon and tilted his head as he curiously studied him. The dragon had hatched from one of few eggs that Saphira had gifted the riders.
"And you must be Merrik, the fierce hatchling dragon that I've heard so much about." Eragon greeted.
Kevan laughed again, "Merrik, this is father. He's the big leader of the riders, Eragon Shadslayer. Father, this is Merrik."
Eragon was about to question why Merrik did not greet him when he felt Arya's hand on his shoulder. "He does not talk to anyone but Kevan, not even me."
"Mother, you're here too?" Kevan rejoiced as he hugged Arya. "And that's not true, he was talking to Saphira and Fírnen earlier."
Eragon laughed, "How was your day so far, Kevan?"
"Amazing! I think we got here late though, because after we met Saphira, Fírnen had to fly mother straight up to the castle. But then he came back and we went flying and hunting!" Kevan said happily as Eragon wrapped an arm around Arya and ruffled Kevan's hair. He looked up at them with joyous eyes. "Flying is so much fun! I asked Merrik to hurry up and grow so we can go flying together. He doesn't like being small either!"
Merrik had made his way to the fire and was currently swiping at it in some weird attempt to catch the fire with his claws.
"All in good time, every rider has to wait for his dragon to grow." Eragon told Kevan. "I'll even teach you how to make your own saddle, we can make it together."
"Truly?" Kevan asked in excitement, Eragon nodded. "Yes!"
Kevan ran over to Merrik, perhaps to tell him what he had said.
Arya's arms wrapped around him, she kissed his lips quickly, then his jaw before whispering in his ear. "We'll continue this later, tonight."
Eragon nodded, kissing her hair. "I look forward to it, but first I want to take my son flying."
He could take his time, after all, he had all of eternity to look forward to.
AN: Hope that was okay, btw, Kevan's name is a reference to how Eragon was originally named "Kevin". Thought it was cute. Merrik also means "ruler of the sea" in celtic/gaelic, for those interested.
And no, I'm not going to write smut. Sorry, but it's rated T for a reason ;)
Review! Also, there is a possibility for me to write a fic based on how Eragon and Arya first hook up. The night when they get drunk and such. I might do it. Maybe.