Arya reflected on what Eragon had confessed to her. His love was something she may have acted to have rejected, but something she really did need for. Want. Something she never would accept. Her place among the elves would soon come calling her. No matter what, she wasn't going to put neither herself nor Eragon through that turmoil. Being Princess had enough responsibility that often got in the way, and she couldn't even begin to imagine the duties that being Queen would ask for. Even though she knew they never could be together well at least she thought so, she was elated at the thought of Eragon loving her as well.
"If only. Why? Why must I have this terror thrust upon me?"
She of course, was referring to her throne. She pulled a strand of loose black hair away from her face. Now that she thought about it, perhaps she really would hold Eragon back. Even though his love was just within temptation, she held back. He was a rider. A rider destined to over throw the king. And she would help in any way she could, without troubling Eragon with herself. She knew many battles were to be fought. In each of those battles, if she had told Eragon how she felt, she knew, love would have intercepted each of them, blinding them, cutting them off from their proper battle stances. She knew if she had really told Eragon how she felt, how she really felt, she would have regretted it. Arya picked up her bag and slung it across her shoulder. She mounted her horse and breathed in the crisp night air.
"Ride. Take me away."
To escape the pain, to escape whatever it was that broke inside of her, Arya returned to Ellesmera. She thought that maybe her duties there would distract her from Eragon. She was wrong. She only worried more and more for him each of the passing days. What's wrong with me? Why cant I shake this off? We cant be together! In the back of her mind, a voice kept on saying, Yes, you can. You could make it work. Arya pushed the glowing thought away.
"Stupid ideas. It would never work."