"Enter."
Arya took a deep, steadying breath as she swept carefully past the Nighthawks' deadly weapons and lethal, all-seeing eyes into their lady's ceaseless, intelligent gaze. The relief from the buffering wind was instant, but Arya hardly noticed it; her attention was immediately stolen from the respite and diverted to matters of much more importance. Her eyes, orbs of impermeable emerald light, scanned the dark-skinned woman with confused intensity.
There was, she thought, something different about Nasuada.
Perhaps it was the way she sat so straight and tall in her oaken chair, as she had not done for many weeks; there was a newfound pride in Nasuada's seating – or, rather, a pride that she had rediscovered after far too long an absence. Her chin was lifted higher than that of any other woman in the proximity, as if she had suddenly recovered her long-lost sense of importance and fulfillment that she had, until so recently, been lacking. Her eyes shone brightly, reflecting the gleam of leadership within her glistening soul. Yes... Nasuada had changed. What Arya did not know, however, was whether she had changed for the better.
"Ah, Arya," the woman smiled. Arya's suspicions instantly wavered; that smile was so warm, so genuine, that it could not be a false one. Could it? She was paranoid, she mused amusedly to herself. Years of training and continual conflict would do that to any elf.
Wouldn't they?
Oblivious to the elf's internal battles, Nasuada continued. "I am glad you came."
Arya found herself nodding - although whether in agreement or not, she was not sure. "Yes. I am glad too, my lady." Following a brief hesitation, she added; "and I might add, if it is fair, that I for one am glad to see you recovered from your... ill health."
The smile that followed Arya's words was, indeed, a real one; the woman before her bowed her head in what Arya knew could only be an authentic sign of her gratitude.
"It is fair. Thank you, Arya," Nasuada murmured. "I was, indeed, ill... although not, as I'm sure you know, of the body." She shook her head, sending locks of long, dark hair cascading over her back like a rippling pool cast in darkest shadow. "No. It was an illness of the heart that ailed me... But now, I am at peace. Eragon and I have exchanged word - indirectly - of our regret, and that I hope is far behind me. What only remains is for me to make peace... with you, Arya. Do you forgive me?"
The midnight haired elf paused.
Do I?
-x-
"Roran!" Katrina sang as her husband trudged folornly into their shared abode. Seeming not to notice his current depression, she launched herself at him with a silvery laugh. "I wish you wouldn't stay away for so long. Every time you do, my finger itches like crazy." As his wife laughed joyfully once again, Roran frowned and twisted the golden ring on his index finger uncomfortably. This gift from Eragon, he thought, was both a blessing and a curse.
Finally, his wife perceived his constant silence for what it was; an indication of his foul mood. Drawing backwards so that she might look her husband in the eye, Katrina spoke quietly in an entirely different tone; "What ails you, love? Why did it take you so long to return to me?" Roran grimaced, diverting his gaze from hers. Katrina, unwilling to let this topic fall, moved so that he had no choice but to look into her eyes - eyes that sparkled with the light of sheer determination. "Tell me." Her husband sighed.
"I... I took the longer route. I did not want to..." he shook his head with a frown. His dark eyebrows knitted together as he stood for several moments in silent contemplation. Katrina waited patiently. "I had things to... to think about."
"What things, love?" Katrina sighed as her lover turned away from her once more - this time directing his distressed glare to the indifferent grass beneath their feet. "Roran, you can tell me."
"I cannot!"
"You can, and you must!" For the first time that night, Katrina's voice failed to disguise her true impatience as it rang out, furiously loud. Taking several deep breaths, the woman continued in a much calmer tone. "You must. You are not on your own anymore, Roran Stronghammer." As his lips twitched slightly at the name, she grasped his arm and pulled it gently towards her; crossing hers over his, she made the symbol that they had made on their wedding day - the symbol of their unity. "We are one now. We were - we are - we shall be."
Katrina smiled as Roran lifted his eyes and met hers. The sadness in his eyes could not be so great that she could not force it, she thought lightly. Whatever it was, whatever troubled him, they would face it together. The thought stabled her; whatever happened, she would never leave his side, nor he hers.
"I am... I must go away." Roran sighed sadly; the shock and dismay in his love's eyes were precisely what he had expected. "Nasuada says it is crucial."
"Will you be in danger?"
Katrina's voice – leaping wisely to the one question he had prayed that she would not ask - was but a whisper. Roran ignored the implication in her tone when he answered only one part of her question.
"Every mission is dangerous."
"For a normal man - a man who is not as skilled as you in warfare and fighting - yes," she snapped impatiently. "Roran, answer me. Will it be dangerous for you?"
Roran could not meet her eyes; he focused instead on the chipped wooden frames of their humbled cloth home as he answered in a low whisper.
"Yes."
-x-
Arya stared at the patient leader of the Varden, humbled in the eyes of her powerful liege.
Trapped! she thought bitterly - yet, it had to be said, there was a small hint of admiration hidden in that realization. Trapped, drawn as I am to lies like a fly to honey! Yet again, I find myself maneuvered so easily that I do not realise how deep I am stuck until the final moment arrives. It was the same with my mother. The elf regarded Nasuada with newfound suspicion, wonder... and respect. The spider approaches.
"I forgive you, my lady-" How could I not? Arya wondered resentfully. Nasuada smiled triumphantly. "-yet I cannot help but wonder what it is that you have done?"
As was per her intention, the smug smile faded quickly. "Surely you must have noticed, Arya," Nasuada spoke through gritted teeth. "I have not... that is to say, I did not... I have been unsupportive." The woman exhaled sharply. Arya's smile, this time, was the triumphant one. "I have not treated you with the honour and respect you deserve. For that, I apologise." Arya paused, wondering if her oh-so-cunning leader would think to mention the occasion quite recently during which she had tried - and nearly succeeded – in killing her. Nasuada did not speak again, but Arya saw the unspoken question in her face; will you mention it? Dare you undermine my authority, elf? Yes, the question was there… as bold as brass and plain for all to see. Arya answered it with a question of her own, tilting her head high and meeting, once more, the other woman's eyes. One thin eyebrow rose.
Dare you predict me, human? Dare you make me your plaything?
For several minutes, the two women stared blankly into one another's eyes; each daring the other to speak. Finally, Nasuada faltered; she looked away with a dissatisfied glare, which focused upon the earthen floor. "Begone with you," she spat. "I am weary, and have better things to do than indulge in pointless games. Good day."
"Good day," Arya murmured, turning on her heel quickly so as to not allow her pride to take advantage of her. She was not quick enough, however, and Nasuada perceived a small glimpse of the elf's deep seated satisfaction.
"Does your mother know?"
Arya froze.
"What?"
"I said, Arya Drottningu, does your mother know that you are betrothed?" Every word was enunciated perfectly, sharpened with a precision that Arya wondered at; each sound was a knife, expertly drawing from her the maximum amount of pain with each syllable. She turned again and did not move, staring blankly at the woman. Suddenly an image rushed to her head of a large, cunning spider, taunting its prey with its massive, bulbous eyes before going in for the kill. Nasuada continued, the smile on her face sweet and innocent. "It seems a shame to rob her of such… excellent news."
The elf shook her head, slowly and confusedly. "No… no, we have yet to break it to her. Eragon thought that we might contact her tonight and arrange a meeting…"
"Oh, but why do it over such a long distance?" Nasuada enquired harmlessly – yet there was a definite light in her eyes, Arya decided; a light that she was not sure she cared for. "It seems to me that the queen would love to see you in person, Arya – and Eragon and Saphira too."
"That would be… preferable," Arya spoke carefully, watching uncomfortably as the light flared dark and dangerously. How are you benefitting from this? What will this achieve? Another trap?
"I, of course, would be willing to give you leave…"
"Thank you."
"So it is arranged, then," Nasuada said, leaning back into her chair contentedly. "You shall leave… oh, the day after tomorrow? Is that convenient?"
"Of course." Too convenient.
"Well then. Goodbye, Arya."
Arya left without another word. The confusion in her soul she was careful not to allow to slide onto her face.
The instant she had gone, Nasuada sighed and slouched into her hard, wooden chair. Guilt hit her, wave after wave… But still, it had to be done. They had to know… didn't they?
"What have we done, Elva?" Nasuada whispered agonizingly.
"The right thing, my lady."
I hope so, the woman thought desperately.
I really, really hope so.
AN: Dun dun DUUUUUUNNNN!!! Are you all freaked now? :P
REVIEW! PLEASE? Seriously, if I do not receive FIFTEEN REVIEWS – that's right – for this chapter, NO UPDATE!!
Sorry :( It's just that I spend hours – honestly, HOURS – trying to make these chapters awesome, trying to juggle 'Chester Mysteries' (a play I'm in) and learning several complicated piano pieces for my tiny music teacher alongside it. And how do you thank me? By no reviews. It's sad :( Pleaaaasseeee make a poor young girl happy?? :)
Arya xxxx