Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, the Inheritance Cycle, nor its characters! They all belong to Christopher Paolini. I just write fanfiction Enjoy, and R&R!
How hard is it to present an image of yourself which you can respect? What when, deep down, you are hiding a sorrow so great it threatens to burst each time your thoughts stray to the object of your longing? How hard is it to stand tall and strong and proud in the face of enemies, when inside you are tired and wish for nothing else but delivery from it all?
Itishard, she thought,butitmustbedone.
Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. Every day, Nasuada had to show a strong side to those considered her subordinates. She was in a position of power, one which commanded and demanded respect, but one which could only be kept if she played her part as a strong and fair ruler. The world is an unforgiving place, and showing weakness would definitely put her in jeopardy. No, each morning she had to stand before the mirror, look herself in the eyes, and reassure herself that she was capable of doing it. She was capable of being Queen of Alagaësia, and she was prepared to affront whatever dangers came her way.
Itismyduty,andIcannotfail.
After repeating that phrase to herself a few times, she would consider herself to be ready to face her day. She would leave her chambers, already dressed to impress, and with her most business-like expression. She would greet her guards, stationed outside her door every night, and they would follow her to her office, where Jörmundur would be waiting for her to go over the day's tasks and any important decision making. He was her rock, her unfailing rock. He was, perhaps, the person closest to her who understood the burdens of ruling, for he had accompanied her for a number of years, and her father before it. Unlike her guard, Jörmundur walked beside her, as they shared a mutual respect for one another.
Their evident closeness had raised a few eyebrows at the beginning of her reign, and some speculation went about as to whether he would become her consort. Soon, however, those rumours died out, when Nasuada made it particularly evident that Jörmundur was a married man, with a family of his own. After that, other potential candidates were discussed among the people, with Eragon figuring prominently. The most cynical ones, even suggested the possibility of an Urgal or Kull as the future consort, but with time, such rumours were abandoned, especially as Nasuada showed no inclination to marry.
Iftheyonlyknew…
No, whatever else, she kept the object of her affections a secret. How long had it been already? Three, four years? Four, of course it had been four. Four long years since she had ascended to the throne of Alagaësia, and not once since had she seen or heard from Murtagh. Not a whisper, nothing. And whatever she told herself, that it had been too long, that she should know better, that she should forget… the bond they had formed in the Hall of the Soothsayer was too strong to break.
She therefore consoled herself thinking that perhaps, for him, it was just as hard as for her, but he needed to stay away, and that she understood. He couldn't just waltz into Ilirea like a normal person. Despite Nasuada's best efforts to clean his name, there were still some who could not, and would not forget what he had done under Galbatorix's command. He had killed too many, he had hurt too many. He had been weak and let himself be overcome.
But that had changed. He had changed, and in changing, he had changed her. She had been almost broken by Galbatorix. He had been too close to succeeding, but Murtagh had brought her back each time. He had healed her, and he had protected her.
Hesavedmorethanjustmylife.Hesavedmymind,andhekeptmesane.
And if the days were hard, the nights were harder. The silence of the night was almost unbearable to her. It seemed that she lived for the noise, even the faintest one that would make the illusion that she was not alone. This, of course, was contrary to reality. She felt alone, surrounded by many, but alone.
Her responsibilities kept her busy during the day, but at night, as she lay or paced or sat in her chambers, the stark reality of the situation always hit her hardest. Despite the guards stationed outside her door, who followed her around wherever she went, despite the friendship of those close to her, and the letters from those far away, the gap in her heart was wide, and it was deep.
Too deep perhaps to comprehend, or even to explain, but it was very real. Too real to ignore.
One thing that also saddened her was that, while she was completely alone, Murtagh at least had Thorn who understood him like no one else. It was sad but comforting, for while she wished she had someone like that, she was happy he did not have to live alone in his head, that he had a companion who understood him.
How many nights had she sat and pondered about this? How many? Almost every single one, unless she had been too exhausted from the day's proceedings. Each night though, however tired she was, there was at least one yearning thought directed at Murtagh. One call in the night out to him, wishing him back.
Tomorrowwillbeanotherday…
A faint touch to her consciousness made her stir. What was going on? Her defenses were up at once, and she hugged herself arms and legs to gather strength. Who could be foolish enough to attempt an attack on her mind? Du Vrangr Gata would detect this, and her magicians would be battling and destroying this intruder in no time. Elva would be running through the door any second now…
… any second now…
But the touch was not hostile, and it was brief.
She remained holding her blankets close to her, at attention in case it came back. Part of her wanted it to come back to battle it furiously, if only to end the monotony and quiet of the night, but it didn't. It was quiet all around her, and the attacker did not return.
The experience itself had been scary, and Nasuada didn't know what to make of it exactly. Should she consult with somebody about it? Tell Trianna? Part of her told her she probably should, but another said no. There was no need to get anyone else involved in all this, was there?
Iamfine.AndIdon'tneedtobebabied.
But the feeling something was not quite right did not leave her, so she quickly got up and drafted a letter a letter to Eragon, asking for advice. When she was done, she reread the letter, and laughed at herself, tearing it to pieces.
Isoundlikeascaredchild.
Sighing, she went back to bed, but sleep would not come easily. Someone out there was trying to penetrate her mind. With what intentions, she knew not, but she did not much care to find out if they were bad.
JustanothernightinthelifeofNasuada.