3Summary: Arya was the one who grew up in Cravahall, while Eragon is the Elven prince. Instead of stealing one egg, all three eggs were stolen and given to the Varden. Eragon, first free dragon rider after the fall, estranged eleven prince, and the ambassador to the Varden encounters trouble when traveling from the great forest to the Varden... Eventual AxE, slow buildup. First few chapters will be very similar to the book.
A/N: So, I'm kind of a shitty writer but there are no completed role swap fics for this fandom, which makes me sad. I'll try my best to update this regularly, but I can't make any promises as I've never been able to finish a story on this site before I lose inspiration. Also disclaimer, I don't own Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.
Chapter 1:
Arya knelt in a bed of small reed grass, and scanned the tracks with practiced eye. The tracks told her that the deer had been in the meadow around a half-hour before. Her target, a small doe with a pronounced limp in her left forefoot, was still with the herd. She was amazed it had made it so far without a wolf or bear catching her.
The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted
over the mountains that surrounded her, its edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the
harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from
stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the valley's floor,
almost thick enough to obscure his feet.
Arya was fifteen, less than a year from adulthood. Dark eyebrows rested above her piercing green eyes. She wore black leather pants, a worn, plain tunic, and a heavy fleece jacket to protect her from the winter chill.A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at her belt, and a buckskin tube protected her yew bow from the mist. She carried a wood-framed pack.
The deer had led jee deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Alagaesia. Strange tales and men often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Arya did not fear the Spine, as she was the only hunter near Carvahall who dared track game deep into its craggy recesses.
It was the third night of the hunt, and her food was half gone. If she did not fell the doe, she would be forced to return home empty-handed. Her family desperately needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Carvahall.
Arya stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest
toward a glen where she was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from
view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. She looked at the tracks only occasionally; she knew the way.
At the glen, she strung her bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in her left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe she wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.
Arya slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All her work of the past three days
had led to this moment. She took a last steadying breath and let the arrow fly. Her aim was true, for the arrow had stuck her target, piercing the crippled doe's breast.
With a loud grunt, the doe collapsed. The herd bolted. Sheathing the two remaining arrows, Arya stood up and approached her kill. She unsheathed her hunting knife, preparing to skin her prize and prepare to return home.
Finishing packing the meat and securing her bow, she stood up and prepared to head back to the village.
A/N: R & R. Will update sporadically