AU: To those of you who say that what's happening to Trianna is slavery, 1 - this is just a lemon, don't take it seriously. And 2, look at the character arc of Daenerys Targaryen (Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones). Almost the same situation, minus her making the first move, and with different names. In a PUBLISHED WORK OF FICTION. Also minus being forced to walk in her birthday suit everywhere, but then again, there is a scene in the books that shows Daenerys and Drogo, 'ahem,' doing it, with the entire Khalasar watching. And to those of you who call me sick for choosing Elva, I know that she is only two years old, but she grows faster due to the curse; lets say she's physically fourteen in this story.

Chapter 6, Eragon/Elva

'Eragon, are you sure you want to do this?'

Nasuada leaned on one arm upon the bed, still considering the consequences of what she had just heard. While still inside her, his mouth around hers, Eragon had asked permission to lift the curse placed upon Elva. The Varden queen had delayed the question until they were finished, but there was no-where to flee.

'Yes, m'lady. I need to make ammends.'

She had to evade the question, and so tugged gently at her robes. 'If you wish, we could forget our worries for another few minutes.'

Still, it was hopeless to avoid it; Eragon could sense she was trying, but could not tell why. 'Nasuada,' he began, 'why are you against me lifting the curse? I'm trying to save a child from a life of pain.'

'She...' it sounded selfish no matter how many times she rehearsed it. The moment Eragon mentioned the child, she forgot the act she was within; her moans gave way to thoughts, how could Nasuada convince him? Still, she had to try.

'She has a gift, Eragon. A gift that could prove more than useful to the Varden. Think about it; she feels any pain, and can track the man suffering it. She can feel it in advance; she can predict battles, assassination attempts, anything.'

'Listen,' Eragon replied, 'Elva is a child. And all this is going to do is get her killed; she either gets in the way of a sword, or she throws herself from a tower to stop the pain. Do you want that on your conscience? Better to end it now than see what could happen. And even if she didn't die, do you think that, after learning you stopped her from being cured, she would help the Varden?'

'How... how would she find out?'

'Because I would tell her.' There was a grim sinceirity to Eragon's words, and she knew he wasn't lying.

'All right, Eragon, cure her. The Varden managed a full century without; we can manage. Now come back to bed, Elva can wait a few more minutes.'

He obliged, with more enthusiasm than Nasuada expected; he had come mere minutes before. Still, she could already feel a bulge between his legs. Most likely one of the elf gifts, or some spell, she decided. Still, why complain?

Two hours later, Eragon Shadeslayer stood within his tent, waiting for Elva to arrive. He had tried to furnish it as best he could, placing several silk-soft pillows, a red that matched the dwelling's color. A tapestry hung on one wall, which displayed the images of several hunting maidens and a wild boar.

The tent flap parted, allowing in sunlight and a visitor, but it was neither Elva, nor her guardian, Angela. A woman of black hair and blue eyes, one lacking in clothing and tired of frame. Trianna the Sorceress, still bound by her oaths, had re-entered the tent after several hours with Saphira.

She had been taken with him to Du Weldenvarden, and was there when alliances were forged with the dwarves. At first, there had been reluctance, but the sorceress had adapted, and made light of her situation. She still led Du Vrangr Gata; if anything, in the past few months, the order's, and thereby her, position within the Varden had risen once they had recruited the healers and battlemages.

Still, she was still under oath; and those oaths had taken her dignity, if not her power. Eragon would ride her once or more each day, sometimes on dragonback; and, when that was done, Saphira would call for her, leading to a more degrading task. That of pleasuring the great beast, whose moans echoed throughout the encampment as roars.

Sighing, she walked towards Eragon, before leaning over. Since his transformation, he had been able to go far longer before coming; and, while Trianna would deny it, a part of her relished their sessions, even enjoyed Saphira's. That part didn't seem to be the logical part, then; that was only brought into use when governing Du Vrangr Gata.

'Not today, Tri,' Eragon spoke. He had taken to shortening her name, as if to put her more at ease. 'I've got visitors coming; have a day off. Still, no clothes.' Trianna sighed in relief; a few months ago, she would have never abided by the last three words. Still, by now she had managed to ignore the eyes of the Varden upon her whenever she walked near others.

Eragon waited until she had stepped outside before he let out a sigh of relief; he thought Saphira would have kept her longer. Elva may have been in the body and voice of a teenager, but she was only two years old in truth; he didn't want to expose her to sex at that age.

He grasped the scroll in his left hand, before abruptly shoving it beneath a cushion. A last resort, if all else fails. A few seconds later, the tent flap swung open.

He had expected one of Elva's guardians, either Angela or Greta, to accompany her, but she entered on her own. Eragon hid his surprise at her growth; when he last saw the witch-child, hours before he entered the Burning Plains, she had been in the body of an eight year old. To him, months had passed; to her body, six years.

Still, in the brief moment the tent was open, he glimpsed Trianna several meters behind her, walking away, and groaned. He had sent her away to protect Elva; and it worked for nothing whatsoever. So Eragon tried to divert the topic, muttering a few words to hide the blush which erupted on his face.

'Elva,' he said, 'one year ago, I, through misuse of the Ancient Language, cursed you to a life of pain and suffering. Now I request your blessing to remove the curse.'

Elva had always been quiet and reserved, but the joy on her face was unmistakable.

'Do... you do mean it? Your going to get rid of it?'

'Yes. I can recall the words I used, and know how to undo their effects. If you would sit here,' he said, pointing to a cushion directly in front of him.

Elva seemed as if she could barely hold herself still. 'Start,' she said.

Eragon nodded. 'Say nothing during the ritual; I need utmost focus to do this.'

He closed his eyes, and spoke the first word. 'Skolr...' He cast spell after spell, each of which altered the original in the most subtle of ways. He tried to remove the compulsion, dull her sense of pain; he worked at the roots of his spell, trying to find where the primary issue was. He prepared to speak the words, but stopped at a realization.

'Elva,' he spoke, 'it won't work.'

The despair on her face, the anguish, was enough to wrench his heart. I made this girl, he thought. I made her what she is now, and there was no way he could atone for this. Still, he could not bear to see that expression. 'There is a way, but your not going to like it.'

'Anything, anything to stop the pain.'

'All right.' He pulled out the scroll. 'This was something Angela gave me when she heard what I was planning. A way to remove a curse without the expense of energy. I would do it normally, but it would sap every drop of energy from my body, then from Saphira's. We would both die, and the spell would continue to take from anything around you. It would be a hundred dead before the curse is lifted.'

'All right, what does the scroll say?'

He gulped upon opening it; was this truly necessary? Yes, he told himself, it was. 'Sexual removal of magical afflictions,' he spoke, reading out the title. 'The standard removal of a spell or curse is to reverse the wording within one week of their infliction. After that time, it will begin to store energy in small amounts from its host, requiring an equal amount to remove it.

'An unwanted spell that is left for more than one month will require the total energy of a single living human, as a rough estimation. Each additional week and the drain is greater; by one year, two dozen mens' worth of energy will need to be extinguished in order to cut the spell loose.'

Eragon realized the mistake he had been about to make. One more word, and the curse would have started draining from anything in its proximity, including Elva; he felt sick thinking of what would have happened. It would have been a slow disease, or mistaken for one, at first, until she and those around her collapsed, dead. Then this was necessary. There was no alternative.

'An alternate method of removing a curse is to implant an overwriting spell, but, with any contradictions between the two, the host would be completely drained of energy and killed in a matter of seconds. The only remaining method,' Eragon spoke, trying to hold his voice level, 'will completely remove the existing curse with no ill effects.'

'Well?' Elva spoke, her voice rising. 'What is it?'

'The third method,' Eragon spoke, 'requires sexual intercourse.'

He waited for the shock on Elva's face, but none came. Still, he could hear it behind her calm voice. 'If we attempt this... method... the pain will stop?'

'Yes. According to Angela, it requires both of us to be brought to, well, climax, for it to work. And, well, she says it isn't permenant. This needs to happen every single day; and each time it only pushes the curse back for another day.'

Elva thought for a moment. If she felt embarrassed, or nervous, or even aroused, she did a great deal to hide it. 'And there is no other solution?'

'According to Angela, no.'

'Then... when do you want to do it?'

'Now.'

Eragon was more than surprised, and let it leak through his mask of calm for a moment. Still, this was someone who was tortured with pain whenever there was the possibility of harm, to anyone. He owed it to her to fix this. But there was a part of him he would deny; a part of him that took arousal in the situation.

'Have you... have you done this before?'

'Once. One of the messengers, a boy called Jarsha. The pain stopped for a day, but by the time I made the connection, he had been sent to assist another encampment.' She crawled over towards Eragon, placing a hand on his groin.

His dick sprung to life, trying to push out of his pants. Still, Eragon restrained himself. Neither of them spoke a word as he placed her onto the bed, her legs dangling off the side, before lifting her skirt. He nervously pulled down her panties, before Elva grasped them with impatience and pulled them to her ankles.

Eragon waited a moment to step out of them, before placing his head between her legs. He raised his back until it was directly in front of her pussy, before letting his tongue through. He licked the area around, at the top and behind her thighs, and ran his tongue along it, pushing in only a fifth of a centimetre. It only took a few moments of this for him to feel liquid, and, inwardly at least, smiled.

He continued this for a few minutes, his tongue focusing primarily on her clitorus. It was then that he pulled back, and Elva looked wit/ confusion in her eyes. 'Why did you stop?'

'Angela told me it only works if both of us climax. I need to bring myself to that point, then finish with you.'

'Wait,' Elva spoke. Now Eragon was the one confused as she tapped the bed. 'Let me help.'

Eragon crawled onto it while Elva pulled off her shirt, exposing her breasts. They were not too small, and, if she wasn't trying to draw attention, her lack of bra wouldn't have made them too noticeable, but they still tore at Eragon's restraint. Each of them was about the size of his hand; it took what little control remained of him to resist sucking on them.

Now Elva pulled down his trousers, wrapping one of her hands around the base of his shaft. She massaged his ballsack with the other, applying a small amount of pressure to the point directly behind them with her thumb. Her fingers drummed against his cock rather than rubbing it for the first few seconds.

Now she pulled back the foreskin, before applying quick licks beneath it. She then traced her tongue in a spiral from directly above the ballsack to below the head, electing moans from Eragon. Next an inch went into her mouth, turning to two inches, then three, then four. Here, she began to suck, until Eragon found himself on the verge of release. This was where Elva pulled out.

'Before you release, you gotta satisfy me as well,' she said, a smirk to her face. Now pulling up her skirt, the witch-child sat on Eragon's groin, teasing his cock by allowing it to rub against her pussy.

'Elva... are you sure? You can still pull out.'

'Of course I'm sure, Shadeslayer. I can see the look in your eyes; you want me as well. You really gonna complain?'

She gently eased herself onto his manhood, letting only an inch or two in at a time before pulling back. Eragon was surprised to feel no hymen, before remembering what she said about Jarsha. Now she relaxed, letting him sink up to his balls into her pussy. Now she clenched her thighs and started rubbing them together, gently massaging Eragon's cock.

Ten seconds in, and he was already about to come. Perhaps it was selfishness, but Eragon found himself more than enjoying this, and muttered a few words under his breath to delay his climax. He thrust up with each of Elva's downward movements, pulling back when she went up. And so they went, in sync with one another, until he felt the younger woman visibly shudder.

'Eragon...' she moaned, 'sound.' He nodded, understanding, then spoke to silence their tent.

'ERAGON!' She howled into the night, the voice echoing through the tent as a result of Eragon's spell.

She may be finished, but Eragon was not; he placed two hands on her back, pulling Elva close, then rolling over, lifting himself so as to not place all his weight. Now he continued to thrust, leaning in and wrapping his tongue around her left nipple. Each time he felt close to release, he delayed it another moment; and Elva's moans held no complaint within them. And so it went on, minutes upon minutes upon minutes.

She howled his name for the second time that day, and it was then that he decided to stop. He dropped the spell holding his seed within, and let it flow from his body into hers.

Elva raised her head. 'I... I can't feel it. The pain, I can't feel it any more. You said it was temporary... maybe...'

'No matter how much I might want to,' Eragon replied, smirking, 'I can't always be near you. Every day, you need to do this, at least once, but it doesn't have to be with me. It can be with anyone.'

'Then... thank you, Eragon. Come to my tent tomorrow night, we're doing it again.' So saying, she grasped her shirt and pulled back her panties, before striding out of the tent.