A/N: Here stands chapter 4. You like, you review, you don't like, still review. Love me, hate me, PM me, tell me! :D My new motto/catch phrase. You like?

"Are you sure?" Farica asked warily. "Orrin can be a bit—unreasonable about your cooks… well, actually, cooks in general."

Nasuada winced. "I know. But yes, I'm sure," she said slowly, remembering the last time she had dined with Orrin.

"What is this?" Orrin asked disdainfully. "Lady Nasuada cannot eat this, this, this abomination of a crème Brule!"

"Its fine, Orrin," She'd said honestly.

"I will not have the queen of the Varden consume such a disgusting dish! Awful, simply awful!" Orrin continued muttering to himself throughout the entire meal.

The experience had been, quite frankly, frightening.

"Now that the decision's been made, Farica, which should I wear tomorrow?"

Memories of that night marred the rest of Nasuada's busy day. She had feast to organize for the soldiers who'd just arrived back from Feinster; she had a meeting with the council to arrange means to atone for their missing supplies; and on top of all her other duties, Arya was having problems with the Angela, the herbalist, harassing her. When dinner time rolled around, she was still arguing with Eragon about whether or not Saphira should be able to put shows on for the camp's children.

"Come on Nasuada, it'd be fun!" Eragon pressed. "What would the children love more than seeing a Murtagh dummy burning to death? If we're lucky, we might even get the real thing!"

"Eragon, you can't burn a Murtagh dummy in front of the children!" Nasuada exclaimed, alarmed by the prospect, "They'll be scared out their wits!"

"They need to know who the enemy is," Eragon countered. "This is the perfect way to show them. What else are Saphira and I to do?"

Nasuada opened her mouth to speak when a voice which she recognized as Eragon's cousin, Roran's, shouted, "Eragon!"

"I must go," Eragon said, dashing out of his tent.

"The answer is no, Eragon!" Nasuada hollered after him.

Farica was waiting anxiously for Nasuada when she arrived at her tent.

"My lady, you'll be very late…"

"I'm aware. Eragon kept me a bit longer then intended."

Farica began murmuring to herself as she hastily dressed Nasuada in a periwinkle gown and pinned her hair up.

"What kept you, Nasuada?" Orrin asked after formal greetings were exchanged and one of Nasuada's wait staff pulled out her chair at the head of the table.

"Nothing," she muttered, thoroughly embarrassed at being late to her own dinner. "How was your day?" Lady Nightstalker asked lamely.

Orrin sighed tiredly. "This is the only perk. Now, about our last meeting…"

"What of it?"

"I'd like to—" Orrin clenched his teeth—"apologize. But I still believe relinquishing trade with the elves was best."

Nasuada shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as she pasted a small, faux smile on her pretty face. No trading with the elves: Just another one of her numerous, small, dagger-sharp problems.

"What is being served tonight?" Orrin asked, now clearly preoccupied.

"I'm not sure; Farica made all the arrangements."

"I need a servant like Farica," the king said offhandedly. "Loyal, trusting, trustworthy. Know what she's doing, Farica." He began picking at his roll.

Nasuada smiled tightly and nodded. She was supposed to be wowing Orrin tonight, not staring noiselessly at him.

"Well, um…" Nasuada glanced wildly around the room for a subject to broach. "Have you spied any ladies in your court that tickle you fancy?" She asked awkwardly.

Orrin flushed, and then paled, a truly fascinating sight. "No. What say you to the men who approach you day and night, asking for your hand?"

"There's nobody special," she admitted. Or that I've ever previously met. "There is no reason to have a king ruling by my side, a present; it would do nothing but complicate matters for the Varden."

"What about Eragon? The only free rider ruling the Varden would certainly enforce laws."

"Yes, I suppose, but Eragon is out of the question."

"I see."

The conversation lolled then, and both King Orrin and Lady Nasuada seemed to relax a bit.

"I hope you like… fish," Nasuada said, eyeing the platter.

"Fish. Without any condiments? What is the meaning of this?" Orrin's previously laid-back manner vanished in an instant.

"It's you trade barriers with the elves," said the young woman, her temper flaring. "If we'd dined earlier in the day, as I requested, the condiments would not have already been consumed by the common citizens of the Varden."

"Why would food not be set aside for the two most important people in my city?" Orrin demanded.

"You value your status far too highly," Nasuada said icily. "First come, first serve." And she began picking at flavorless meat.

The dinner passed with no further conversation, though Orrin gnashed his teeth a few more times at the upcoming dished. Utter failure, Nasuada thought. Halfway through dessert, a messenger rushed in.

"Lady Nasuada!"

"Yes, Josha?"

"Eragon need to see you!" the boy panted, "immediately!"

"Excuse me, your highness," Nasuada said, sliding her chair out from under the table. She had a bone to pick with Eragon.

The night air was chilly, though it had been warm at the start of the evening. It seemed even colder when she spotted Eragon.

"What is it, Eragon?" Nasuada demanded, then realizing his bloody, disheveled condition added, "are you alright?" more gently.

"We—Saphira and I, that is, we captured Murtagh and Thorn."

The young maiden gasped. "Where is Murtagh?"

"In Orrin's dungeon; he's too weak to use magic, or even draw upon Thorn's strength."

"What happened to him?" She asked, aghast, her previous attitude with the powerful rider dissolved.

"It's a very long story," Eragon admitted wearily. "What do you want us do with them?"

Thanks for reading! Now just click that little speech bubble in the corner (or where ever it is, I can't see it from here) and review. I'm asking nicely. Anyway, I feel like this chapter is lacking a little in personal vibe. I didn't have much time on it, so I'm desperate to find out what you think!

-Seastar97