Always have, always will.

(It's a little rushed, I'll admit. Haven't read through it so I don't know if everything goes together, as always, point out any mistakes, appreciated very much thank you, my littlies.)

A Christmas story. (EragonxArya fluff)

(AU, set in Ellesméra, I don't own anything, somewhat similar to my 'Happy Christmas' fic, I can't remember if Eragon's eyes were brown… OOC, I think)

X

always have, always will

Eragon gazed softly at the small figure in his arms. She was sleeping. For the first time, she was really sleeping. Her chest rose and fell gently. He took comfort in the sound of her heart beating.
He wondered what in Alagaësia had brought her here… to him.

Last week

Arya kept her eyes on her work. She tried to focus, she truly did, though every time she attempted to read, it all just passed through her mind.

She was supposed to be holding the now annual Christmas celebration. It was not for the elves, for they did not honour these traditions, but rather for their young rider who has never experienced a true Christmas.
Nothing had been done for his birthday, due to understandable circumstances, so they were making up for lost time.

Arya did not even know the word Christmas. Her fury was bubbling.

We have more important issues than to worry about than Eragon's entertainment!

She allowed a groan to escape her lips. She rested her forehead in her hand. Why was she left in charge anyway? What could she do that no other can?

How was she supposed to plan a celebration for something that she knew nothing of? Elves did not keep scrolls on petty human traditions.

You could ask him, said a little, subconscious voice in her mind.

He is not a fool, he would question me, Arya battled against herself.

Yes, but what do you care if he finds out about it? He is going to know anyway, She had a point.

Arya considered this for a moment, it was either, fail the task or have a chance to succeed. The latter was the only true option and she knew it.

Quickly stashing away the scrolls that were scattered across her bed, Arya made her way outside. She stopped to talk to no one. She ignored any greeting, knowing that it was impolite.

As she neared Eragon's tree, she prayed to the Gods that surely did not exist that he would be there.

Sure enough, there was Eragon, sitting on his knees, on the floor, his boyish expressions only faint on his face.

He has grown so much.

Eragon's chocolate eyes held slight shock within them. Arya walked into the room. Her strides were catlike and elegant. Eragon's eyes followed her movement.
Arya sat on Eragon's bed and crossed her legs.

Arya noticed that Eragon held a quill and parchment in his hands, "What are you doing?" She frowned, ignoring all of the polite greetings and gestures.

Eragon's expression remained dull, "Just improving my knowledge of the ancient language…why are you here, Arya?" Eragon was past the politeness too.

Arya pasted the most gleeful expression she could manage on her face without overdoing it.

"Tell me about Christmas, Eragon," She sounded like a child. Eragon's façade faded and a weak smile spread across his lips, making Arya shiver internally for reasons beyond her knowledge.

"Well…" Eragon began there, he told Arya of the origin of Christmas. He told her of why it was so important to many humans. He spoke of family and large feasts. He told her of the many traditions and superstitions that came with Christmas. Gifts, decorations, various plants with absurd meanings, pine trees, flashing lights and fancy glitter. Stars, angels, a man that went by the name 'Santa', he was very strange in Arya's opinion, little snow people, certain, representative colours… and the list went on.

By the end, Arya's interest had been truly caught. Eragon had joined her on his bed; he made hand gestures and exaggerated words.

He began telling her of the lone Christmas's he'd had. It saddened Arya to think that Eragon did not have a much-fulfilled childhood.
At some points, when Eragon would tell her of the days when he and his relatives did not only have no Christmas, but also nothing to live on, she'd reach out and stroke his arm or grasp his hand. Arya did not even know if it was intimate or not, nor did she care.

The discussion on Christmas ended at dusk though Arya was reluctant to leave.
Eragon had begun telling her all sorts of stories, humorous, enlightening and sad, of his past. Arya made no move to stop him, she'd even put in her own little experiences if it was related to the agenda.

It was very dark when Saphira had put her word in and told them to continue the discussion another time when she was not trying to sleep.

Arya quickly apologised and headed back through the glorious city of Ellesméra to her home.

She knew what to do now…

X

Arya spent two and one half days planning and preparing. Food was planned, decorations were planned and being put up today. The setting was organized, built around the Menoa Tree. Eragon's arrival was set up and the entertainment was ready planned; Arya would recite what Eragon called, 'classic Christmas poems' and another group of elves would perform the 'carolling'.

Arya was excited; of course, she kept her serious face and emotionless façade, though she truly was excited.

Christmas was in two days, pressure was heavy on Arya's shoulders. Her mother, and her Queen, had praised her efforts. She gave her a hand with the preparations, telling her all the while that she knew that she could count on Arya to plan such a glorious thing.

On the night, everything looked spectacular; lights flashed and glowed, tinsel glittered, holly and mistletoe hung from the ceiling, numerous pine trees shined bright and the centrepieces held flowers that bloomed happily.

Everything was perfect though Arya's heart was heavy. She didn't know why.

Yes you do, that little subconscious again…

Pray tell, She hissed inwardly.

You are worried he won't like it,

Arya frowned, of course I am, I want him to think highly of my designing skills.

You don't want Eragon to like your skills; you want him to like you,

No, Arya thought defiantly.

You're right; you want him to love you,

No! Arya was shocked at how true those words had been.

You love him…

The voice faded before she could reply.

"Stupid subconscious," She muttered childishly, glad that no one was around to hear.
She slumped into one of the chairs that belonged to one of the little, draped tables.

She put her head in her hands. People had started to arrive, everyone was invited, it was a choice event. A few people had the courtesy to ask Arya if she was okay. She told them that she was merely tired and sent them off.

After she gave the seventh concerned person the same reply, she headed back to her room, this was a two faced decision. She did this for one, to prove her point, and two; she did not want to attend any longer. She would be replaced, there was no concern. If anyone asked, she would say she was unwell, this was half true in any case.

It is about seven in the night, Arya estimated, dulled, Eragon should have arrived.

Arya tried to rest, she'd dismiss anyone who would come to check up on her. The noise was deafening.

Why was she so weak? Why was she so upset about this?

Is it Fäolin? That stupid voice suggested.

We shared nothing.

That's a dirty lie, Arya.

"I know," She sighed aloud, "I really liked him…"

Then it clicked. It all came together…

The celebration was surely over now; it must be one in new light.

Arya moved swiftly through her home, yet cautious not to awaken anybody. The hem of her dress whipped in the wind and the grass tickled her bare feet.

She made her way up Eragon's tree; Saphira's heavy breathing assured Arya that she was asleep. Eragon laid asleep himself, a smile etched on his lips.

He had fun, The thought made Arya smile and she did not shy away from it.

She crept closer to him and lifted the quilt that lay on top of him an inch, just so that she could tuck herself in. She pressed herself lightly against his body and hung an arm around his torso. She buried her head in his chest, feeling very right.

X

The impossibly bright light that seeped through any and every open space woke Arya up. She fluttered her eyes open, an arm was wound around her waist.

"Good morning," Eragon whispered, that's right, she was with Eragon, "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes, I did." She sat on her knees, pulling away lightly from the embrace that she and Eragon had shared last night, and stretched.

"Arya," Eragon's tone held question in it, Arya nodded, "Not that I mind but… why are you here?"

"How was my Christmas party?" Arya avoided the question.

"You planned that?" Understanding was sharp on his face, "That's why you asked me about Christmas! Sneaky," He smiled.

"It was for you,"

"So, this time don't change the subject, why are you here?" He frowned, out of confusion rather than anger.

Arya climbed on top of him and bent down, gently locking their lips, for a brief moment. She pulled away slowly and leant down to his ear, "Because I love you," She whispered.

Arya could feel Eragon's hand stroking her back.

"You've no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that… I love you too, always have, always will,"

X

A/N- I was in the Christmassy mood and so I wrote this. It isn't so good but I liked it. It will stay as a Oneshot unless I'm asked to continue, which I highly doubt seeing as most of it was cheesy (yum) but hey! It's all good.

R&R gorgeous people (:

Anyway, Merry (late) Christmas. And happy new years for Thursday!