Arianna Selenasdaughter
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During my sleep, I was plagued by a horrible premonition. It was worse than the one I’d had over and over again growing up about the Ra’zac coming and tearing my life apart. This premonition was of Brom’s death, and it made me wake up screaming.
Tears flooded my cheeks. Night after night I dreamt of nothing else. My throat grew hoarse. The worst part, though, was there was nothing I could do to stop it. If I made up my mind that I was going to break out of here and rush to Dras-Leona to stop the Ra’zac and save him, he died. If I didn’t do anything, he died. If I contacted Eragon through our tight twin connection bond, he died. No matter what, he died!
Seeing my father die over and over again nearly broke me. Galbatorix seemed to sense that something was bothering me. It made him try harder to break into my mind. Luckily, I still had enough of a fighting spirit in me to keep him out.
A few weeks passed by, and when the guard came to get me, I prepared myself for the usual mind attack. However, when we arrived in Galbatorix’s chambers, it was so that he could tell me that he was making a trip to Dras-Leona, and it was the last time I would be seeing him for a while.
He was sending me to Gil’ead in the hopes that the Shade, Durza, would somehow be more productive than he had been at breaking me. If I knew I wouldn’t be beaten for it, I would’ve laughed out loud. As if anyone besides the king had a chance at breaking into my mind!
But then, maybe that was the whole point. Galbatorix had finally become so bent out of shape about not being able to break me, he wanted someone else to wear me down for him. When that was done, I’d probably be sent back to Urû’baen so that he could have the satisfaction of finally breaking me.
I didn’t really care about his motives. The fact that I was getting away from him made me ecstatic. Maybe I could even escape on the trip there! The more I thought about that possibility, the more I knew it could never happen. They’d be sure to drug me, to prevent that from happening. And it didn’t really matter if I was to get free. I’d never be able to save Brom. And Eragon was still in the dark about who Brom really was in relation to him. I sighed, very much distressed.
The king was still blabbing away. It seemed to dawn on him that I wasn’t paying him any attention. Once that realization hit him, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he started his assault on my mind. It was a useless effort in the end. My defenses were secure. I lifted my eyes up slowly to meet his in an act of defiance, and he scowled, but otherwise made no move to make me pay for it. In fact, he seemed rather jovial for a man who’d just lost again at the “breaking into your mind” game.
“Well, I suppose that this is goodbye for now, Arianna,” he said pleasantly. Or as pleasantly as he was capable of speaking.
I didn’t answer. His attitude made me wonder if maybe, just maybe Durza was more capable of breaking me than I’d originally thought. Or maybe he was just glad to be rid of me.
He beckoned forth a guard. “Take her to get cleaned up. And get her some clean clothes.” I might not have heard right, but I could’ve sworn he’d said in an undertone, “Not that she’ll be awake on the trip to appreciate them anyways.”
Of course he’d want me to be cleaned up. Make it seem like he was a good king, kind to all of his subjects. If I arrived in Gil’ead looking like a punching bag, what with all the dried blood I suspected was very visible caked in my hair and elsewhere on my body, it would raise suspicions. And the king couldn’t afford any more of those.
I followed the guard to cleanse myself of the filth of Urû’baen, knowing it would be replaced by the filth of Gil’ead.
Tears flooded my cheeks. Night after night I dreamt of nothing else. My throat grew hoarse. The worst part, though, was there was nothing I could do to stop it. If I made up my mind that I was going to break out of here and rush to Dras-Leona to stop the Ra’zac and save him, he died. If I didn’t do anything, he died. If I contacted Eragon through our tight twin connection bond, he died. No matter what, he died!
Seeing my father die over and over again nearly broke me. Galbatorix seemed to sense that something was bothering me. It made him try harder to break into my mind. Luckily, I still had enough of a fighting spirit in me to keep him out.
A few weeks passed by, and when the guard came to get me, I prepared myself for the usual mind attack. However, when we arrived in Galbatorix’s chambers, it was so that he could tell me that he was making a trip to Dras-Leona, and it was the last time I would be seeing him for a while.
He was sending me to Gil’ead in the hopes that the Shade, Durza, would somehow be more productive than he had been at breaking me. If I knew I wouldn’t be beaten for it, I would’ve laughed out loud. As if anyone besides the king had a chance at breaking into my mind!
But then, maybe that was the whole point. Galbatorix had finally become so bent out of shape about not being able to break me, he wanted someone else to wear me down for him. When that was done, I’d probably be sent back to Urû’baen so that he could have the satisfaction of finally breaking me.
I didn’t really care about his motives. The fact that I was getting away from him made me ecstatic. Maybe I could even escape on the trip there! The more I thought about that possibility, the more I knew it could never happen. They’d be sure to drug me, to prevent that from happening. And it didn’t really matter if I was to get free. I’d never be able to save Brom. And Eragon was still in the dark about who Brom really was in relation to him. I sighed, very much distressed.
The king was still blabbing away. It seemed to dawn on him that I wasn’t paying him any attention. Once that realization hit him, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he started his assault on my mind. It was a useless effort in the end. My defenses were secure. I lifted my eyes up slowly to meet his in an act of defiance, and he scowled, but otherwise made no move to make me pay for it. In fact, he seemed rather jovial for a man who’d just lost again at the “breaking into your mind” game.
“Well, I suppose that this is goodbye for now, Arianna,” he said pleasantly. Or as pleasantly as he was capable of speaking.
I didn’t answer. His attitude made me wonder if maybe, just maybe Durza was more capable of breaking me than I’d originally thought. Or maybe he was just glad to be rid of me.
He beckoned forth a guard. “Take her to get cleaned up. And get her some clean clothes.” I might not have heard right, but I could’ve sworn he’d said in an undertone, “Not that she’ll be awake on the trip to appreciate them anyways.”
Of course he’d want me to be cleaned up. Make it seem like he was a good king, kind to all of his subjects. If I arrived in Gil’ead looking like a punching bag, what with all the dried blood I suspected was very visible caked in my hair and elsewhere on my body, it would raise suspicions. And the king couldn’t afford any more of those.
I followed the guard to cleanse myself of the filth of Urû’baen, knowing it would be replaced by the filth of Gil’ead.