Inheritance Cycle One Shots (edited and revised)

Unvoiced Concerns (previously A Sense of Duty)

A/N: Though it may be a little vague, this one-shot occurs during Brisingr, before Eragon marches into battle.

A Sense of Duty

Arya walked up to Saphira's flank and placed a hand on Eragon's leg. "Fight well, Eragon," she murmured, "but be cautious. If you or Saphira were to get hurt…" Arya trailed off. If he or Saphira were to get hurt, the very future of Alagaësia would be endangered. However, Arya was well aware that either one of their injuries would affect her on a much more personal level. She pushed her unvoiced concerns to the back of her head and searched the eyes of the boy before her. No-not boy-the man. She beheld the new maturity he possessed and praised him within the confines of her mind. She didn't, however, voice her pride within Eragon. The impending battle prevented her from doing so; she wished the fight to remain the main object of their focus. Perhaps a few extra words would bolster Eragon's confidence, but she couldn't bring herself to say more than she already had, for fear of announcing her more personal thoughts. There was much she wished to say, but she refrained. Faölin had once said that her sense of duty sometimes prevented her from making connections with others, and as true as it was, it had taken her many years to accept the fact.

Finally, she removed her hand from Eragon's leg and retreated to where Blödgharm and the other elves were standing. Eragon looked to her and nodded, eyes shadowed by his helm. The headpiece provided his face a dangerous, menacing cast, and she returned his nod by meeting his eyes once more. Then Eragon broke the contact and looked each of his guard in the eye. Their armor concealed their expressions, but each elf's gaze held the same emotions: grim determination, and acceptance of the hardship that awaited them. As Brom had once said, real hardship existed in living for what you believed in, and suffering for it. Death for their cause might have been considered noble, but surviving and fighting on required true courage. Arya steeled herself and took a single breath. Adrenaline began to drum through her limbs and the tips of her nerves felt on fire.

War horns blared in the distance, causing the entire army to swivel their heads in the direction of the noise. A brief silence fell over the Varden. Arya drew her sword, and Saphira tensed and partially unfurled her wings, muscles rippling beneath her flesh. With a tremendous roar, she sprung into the heavens, the courageous cries of the Varden sounding right after her own.