Nasuada grimaced. The scene she looked upon was at once beautiful and painful to behold. It had only been an hour since the Varden had captured Feinster, and she had received word that the elves had captured Gil'leed, but the joy that she knew she should be feeling at winning two tedious battles was severely dampened by two things. First, learning of the existence of another free dragon and his rider only to be informed of their deaths felt like a cruel twist of fate. It both angered and deeply saddened her that she should be given so much hope for the future of her race, only to have it snatched away again. But the pain she felt at losing a dragon and his rider whom she had never met was minimal compared to the pain that the very scene she looked upon was causing her. She was standing right outside her official tent, far from the carnage of the battle itself, looking upon a seemingly unremarkable hill.
Despite all the events and revelations of the day, it was that hill that consumed almost all of Nasuada's attention; not the hill exactly, but the young man on the hill. Eragon stood at the very crest with his chest out and shoulders back as if he was trying to inhale the sunset, looking like the very image of calmness. His exhaustion and grief were both evident however as he had to lean against Saphira to remain upright. Saphira did not seem to be in much better shape, as Nasuada noticed her eyelids slowly closing over her battle weary eyes. Nevertheless, she sparkled a brilliant turquoise in the light of the setting sun.
While Saphira's radiance was certainly not lost on Nasuada, it seemed to dull in comparison to Eragon's very presence. As ruler of the Varden she knew she had to stop thinking such childish and dangerous thoughts, but she couldn't help but allow herself a few minutes more of hopeless, aimless dreaming. She wondered what Eragon was thinking of at that very moment, and wished she had the ability like elves and magicians to enter his mind.
At that moment she glimpsed Arya from the corner of her vision, and colored a deep maroon, thinking that she had seen her staring. When Arya continued walking in another direction, her relief soon gave way to jealousy.
"Lucky Arya," she thought, "she can see what Eragon is thinking whenever she pleases, and moreover, she has Eragon's love whenever she choses to accept it."
Nasuada brooded in a most un-queenly fashion, until she noticed Trianna approaching her. Lucky for Nasuada, she had stopped staring at Eragon as she brooded, and avoiding having her embarrassing secret discovered by the sorceress.
"I must act more queen-like from now on," she thought to herself, "and that means no staring, no brooding, and for that matter no thinking about Eragon Shadeslayer."
By the time she had finished condoning herself; Trianna had approached her, offered a succinct greeting and requested to speak to her in private. Eager to take her mind off of Eragon, Nasuada hurriedly returned her greeting and led the sorceress into her official meeting tent.
"Before you begin Trianna, I must offer my sincerest thanks for your part in the battle today, without you, I fear we may have never broken the stronghold at the back of the city without having to engage Eragon or Arya, who had their own important affairs to attend to."
Trianna bowed slightly accepting Nasuada's thanks, but instead of offering congratulations and thanks in return as was customary, Trianna instead began to speak.
"Nasuada, it is for that very reason I have come. I am concerned for Eragon."
Nasuada sighed quietly, and sat down in preparation of hearing about the one person she would most like to forget.