Nasuada looked up at the ceiling, following the patterns. She still burned from the irons, which Murtagh had so calmly punished her with under Galbatorix's jurisdiction. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still slid out. A sob rose in her throat, and she shivered feverishly. The pain was too much. If she didn't get a grip then she could easily lose her resolve. Hate boiled in her stomach, all-consuming. Everything about Galbatorix she had to hate. Another exercise to deal with the pain was to remember the stories of everyone in the Varden and those still in the Empire and Du Weldenvarden, all those who had passed into the void. To remember the pain that he had caused. The monumental suffering. With-out that it would be all too simple to give in to his candied words and lies. She thought of Roran's father, Eragon's mother, Arya's father. Dead. Brom, the fallen riders More recently of Oromis. Nasuada reminded herself or the pure anguish she had felt when she had spoken with Glaedr. She thought of her own father. Of him carrying her on his shoulders through the streets of Aberon. Of him instructing her in basic sword craft and mind defence. She remembered every detail she could of her childhood. She thought of how she would never be a mother, and even if she was, he would never be there to see that. Ajihad hadn't seen her lead the Varden. Unbidden, she thought of Murtagh. Of how he hadn't had a happy life, of the scar down his back he had shown her in Farthen Dur, of the scar which she suspected was worse on his soul. She thought of Thorn, the dragon, forced to fight against the cause which held his species' interests best at heart. Of how every moment of his existence was spent in captivity. She knew from Saphira how much dragon's instinctively value their freedom. Nasuada thought about her army, and those who had already died for her cause; and she knew. She knew she had to keep fighting. A spasm of pain racked her body, and she felt bile clog in her throat, she tilted her head as far to the side as she could to avoid being covered in her own sick. Her mouth stung as she ejected the puke of the slab she was chained to. And she smiled, as she knew that her resolve would never fail.