"So, is it agreed?" Arya asked.

"Yes, I will notify our Council," Nasuada said with a nod, and wrote a note to herself to remember.

Arya paused for a moment, and said, "Murtagh arrived recently."

Murtagh.

Murtagh.

Nasuada's stomach lurched, but her face remained blank, and she allowed no emotion into her voice. "Is that so?"

"It is."

"Very well."

A ghost of a sad smile flitted across Arya's lips. "You do not wish to see him?"

"I have no reason for it," Nasuada replied, and she ignored the twist in her chest as she said it. "He is free to do as he pleases."

"That he is."

The women share a quiet moment, and then Arya said softly, "If it's a matter of distance, Fírnen and I -"

"No," Nasuada cut her off. "Thank you, but that is not - that won't be necessary." She cast around as though she was distracted by a knock at the door, and cleared her throat. "Forgive me, Arya, but I must attend to other matters at hand. Be well."

Arya nodded. "Be well, Nasuada."

As soon as Arya's face vanished from sight, Nasuada slumped in her chair and steadfastly ignored the way the wood dug into her spine.

Murtagh.

She knew it was only a matter of time before she heard of him; it was hardly to be expected that a dragon as red as Thorn could escape public notice for very long. But she had not expected to be as affected by the news as she was.

Murtagh.

There was so much to do at the beginning of her reign that she was afforded no time to ruminate on him. Any moments of peace were quickly consumed by the ever-growing list of tasks laid out in front of her. She had thrown herself headfirst into her duty and focused on the needs of her people, her queendom, rather than waste a single minute dwelling on that which could not be changed.

And now, she thought sourly, I have no such luxury.

Then came a knock at the door, and Nasuada chuckled humorlessly at the irony. "You may enter."

Her handmaid Farica poked her head through the door. "Have you finished, my Queen?"

"Yes, yes, please, come in."

Farica quietly shut the door behind her and readjusted the dresses laid over her arm. "For the ceremony tomorrow - you had said you wanted a selection."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Nasuada stood as Farica laid out each dress on the bed, and Nasuada picked the nearest one.

She sensed Farica's momentary hesitation, and asked, "What is it?"

"Well - my deepest apologies, Your Majesty, but I couldn't help but overhear the last of your conversation with Queen Arya."

"Ah," Nasuada said shortly. If she were anyone else, she thought to herself, I'd have her stripped of her role immediately. As it was, though, Farica was one of the few people she trusted implicitly; a consequence of queenhood was the difficulty forging honest, meaningful relationships, based on genuine companionship rather than political favor, and Nasuada was unwilling to forfeit the friendship she'd shared with Farica over the years.

And besides, she realized, she found herself wanting advice, and all the better from a woman with no agenda other than to serve the queen.

So Nasuada swallowed her pride, and after fiddling with the shortened sleeves she'd taken to wearing, she said softly, "What would you do?"

The question had clearly taken Farica aback, and Nasuada instantly regretted it. "Never mind."

"No, no, I'm pleased to be of any help, but... I'm just not sure what I would do."

Nasuada nodded once, and returned her attention to the frock she'd donned. "Not this one. A bit plain."

"Of course, madam."

As Farica assisted Nasuada in removing the dress, she said softly, "I think, at the very least, I would perhaps - and I hope I'm not speaking out of turn - I would perhaps have Queen Arya send a greeting."

Nasuada pulled on the second dress, and thought it over for a moment before saying, "No, not Arya."

"Of course."

Nasuada considered the garment, and nodded. "This one will do, I think."

"I shall leave it with you."

"Thank you, Farica," Nasuada said, and she knew Farica understood what Nasuada thanked her for. "You may go."

Farica nodded, scooped up the remaining dresses, and exited the room without another word.

Nasuada removed the dress, and as she hung it she pondered Farica's advice.

A message through Arya was out of the question - of that, Nasuada was certain. Between ruling the elves and tending to Fírnen, she had quite enough on her plate, and it was unbecoming to use an equal as no more than a messenger. But an envoy to Du Weldenvarden was set to leave day after next, and perhaps Nasuada could entrust a letter to Murtagh through the ambassador.

So despite her fatigue, she began to write.

Rider Murtagh -

I hope you and Thorn are well. I heard news that you have settled near Du Weldenvarden, however brief your stay may be.

Nasuada pondered what else to add - she would of course have one of the Nighthawk magicians prevent anyone other than Murtagh from reading the letter, but to assume that the spell held properly would be foolhardy beyond measure. And besides, she had kept Murtagh from her mind for so long that it felt almost impossible to allow her emotions to rise to the surface, locked tightly away as they had been.

So she cleared her throat, and continued.

May your time abroad have served its purpose. Please pass my greetings to Thorn as well.

That would have to do.

Nasuada forced herself to put her letter out of her mind, and once more threw herself into her duties.

But then a message from Murtagh appeared, and despite herself, her stomach lurched once more.

Alone in her chambers that night, she opened the letter.

Greetings, Your Majesty -

I hope this letter finds you well. You are correct; Thorn and I have settled near Du Weldenvarden, and have thus far found it to be satisfactory.

Against her will she cracked a small smile; clearly, he was mocking her overly formal tone.

Our time alone has cleared our minds and our hearts to some degree, but as always, we still have much work to do. The elves allow us peaceful solitude and tend to understand the depth of Galbatorix's influence better than most.

I am gladdened to hear from you. It is flattering that such a busy queen makes time to spare for a Rider and dragon such as we are.

Please pass my greetings to those who do not find me most reprehensible.

Nasuada cracked a small smile once more.

He always did have a mordant sense of humor.

Murtagh -

All is well here, and yet I am mired in chaos. Only to be expected in a new era, I suppose.

I am pleased to hear that the elves extend to you and Thorn a measure of compassion; it is both generous and well-deserved. Solitude, in my opinion, is far underestimated in its value. It more often than not eludes my grasp these days.

When I last spoke with Eragon, he seemed to have made progress with his objective. I would think he would most appreciate a visit from you, if only for a short while.

Nasuada paused for a moment - the next words that arose within her felt far too personal to put to paper, but keeping them to herself felt strangely dishonest.

So she settled for a safer alternative.

Your correspondence is most welcomed.

Back and forth it went, and soon Nasuada came to expect a letter with every envoy that arrived in Ilirea, despite her better judgment. His words were a much-needed respite from her busy days, and she couldn't quite keep the warm contentment they brought at bay, much as she wished she could.

And then, he surprised her.

Nasuada -

I have news that I would rather not risk interception. If you would allow it, I could have access to a scrying mirror during the next full moon. This letter should reach you before then.

If you would rather not, perhaps Queen Arya could discuss this with you instead.

I await your presence.

Nasuada's heart leapt without warning at his words - the full moon was only days away, and the thought of seeing his face, hearing his voice, actually speaking with him threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

She knew an envoy would not reach him in time to confirm, so she decided to forego the letter. If he changed his mind and she made a fool of herself, so be it.

Nasuada immediately notified the Council to push all of her scheduled meetings that could possibly conflict, and her anticipation only grew, to the point that even Farica commented upon it only hours before the moon was set to rise.

"Madam, forgive me, but you seem... somewhat distracted. Is everything all right?"

Nasuada blinked. "Yes, yes. This morning was particularly trying, that's all." And it was; the Council spent far more time than necessary investigating the reason for her change in schedule with poorly-attempted subtlety, to the point where she had prematurely dismissed them and broke the clasp on her bracelet in irritation.

But no matter. She did not know when exactly Murtagh would appear, and as much as she trusted Farica, this meeting was something she wanted to keep to herself.

"Thank you, Farica. You may go."

Farica dipped her head and exited the room, and Nasuada busied herself with reviewing messages left by various nobles that she had received that day.

And then, Murtagh appeared.

"Nasuada?"

She hurried over to her mirror, and the sight of him nearly stopped her in her tracks.

She was instantly assailed by a barrage of conflicting emotions - anger, resentment, affection, compassion, fear - and an image of the heated iron he'd held at Urû'baen warred with the expression on his face as he'd said goodbye to her after it was over.

In the end, she simply said, "Murtagh."

They were both silent for a moment, hesitant to say more, and then Murtagh softly chuckled.

"I didn't expect this to be so different."

Nasuada wasn't sure what he was comparing - the difference from writing to each other? Or the difference from their last interaction?

She settled for the safer alternative once more.

"Yes, well, written words hardly capture the spirit of a face-to-face conversation," she said with a small smile.

Something that she couldn't quite identify flickered across his face, and he cleared his throat. "Yes, well. I'm glad to see that you received my letter in time."

"I as well."

They fell silent again, and before Nasuada could break it, he said, "The news."

"Ah. Yes."

"I met with Eragon."

"Really?"

He cracked a small smile. "Yes, really. I could not summon the will to lie to Your Majesty about such an important matter."

Nasuada rolled her eyes and urged him on. "And? How is he? What is his progress? Is Saphira well? Are you still with them? Have the other dragons -"

"Well, significant, yes, and yes, Nasuada. Allow me a minute to speak, will you?"

She huffed, but gestured at him. "Go on."

"Four of the dragons have hatched - two wild, two for Riders. An elf and an Urgal."

An Urgal. She had nearly forgotten.

He seemed to read the expression on her face, and chuckled. "I know, I hardly expected it too. The Urgal is young, a little fiercer than ideal, but Eragon is confident that he can mediate her and keep peace with the elf."

"And Saphira?"

"She has taken on both the mother and mentor role to the dragons, and keeps them well in line."

Nasuada smiled, and hesitated for a moment before asking her next question.

"If it's not overstepping my bounds - how did Thorn fare?" Murtagh's smile faded, and she quickly added, "Forgive me, I shouldn't have -"

"No, no. It's a fair question." He sighed. "It was... predictable, I suppose. Saphira was a bit less welcoming than Eragon, and extremely wary of Thorn's presence around the young ones. He was not permitted to speak with the Eldunarí, either, though that was hardly unexpected."

Nasuada dipped her chin. "I'm sorry," she said softly, and Murtagh shook his head.

"Don't be. As I said, we did not hope for anything more."

Nasuada nodded. "Well, this is indeed incredible news."

"Yes, but there was something else - the Games are nearing, aren't they?"

"In a few months, yes. We've already begun preparations."

"Well, Eragon and I were considering - perhaps the Urgal Rider could participate."

Nasuada frowned. "I would hardly think that's fair."

"No? She may have magic and a dragon to guide her, but she is younger and smaller than the Urgals that would make it to the Games. If she was prohibited from using magic, she could present a worthy opponent and gain her cultural honor without exacerbating tensions between her and the elf. The elf did not think it fair to take part in it himself."

Nasuada pondered this for a moment, and tilted her head. "I'll bring it to the Council, but I cannot make any promises that it will be permitted."

"I understand," Murtagh said, and they fell silent for a third time.

Nasuada stifled a yawn, but Murtagh took notice. "I'm sorry, I should have realized -"

"No, no, it's quite alright," she said, but he shook his head.

"No, I should let you get some sleep. I'm sure you have far less time for it than you should."

"You're not wrong." Another moment passed, and Nasuada was suddenly overcome with an urge to spill her heart to him.

She missed him dearly; missed the friendship they'd forged in the depths of Farthen Dûr, missed the potential of what could have been had the Twins not betrayed them, missed the man he was before Galbatorix wreaked havoc on his mind, and despite the horrors they'd endured together - the horrors he'd inflicted upon her - she couldn't help but miss the bond they'd shared in Urû'baen, too.

But she couldn't say any of that. Even if her heart hadn't been locked up since Galbatorix died, it wouldn't serve either of them well to reopen old wounds.

So she said, "It's good to see you."

He blinked in surprise, but said, "You as well."

They shared a small smile, and then she cleared her throat. "Your access to the scrying mirror, is it conditional upon the moon cycle?"

His smile widened slightly. "Not necessarily, but the full moon is easy to track."

"Then perhaps I may see you again at the next full moon."

"Perhaps."

"Although my schedule may prohibit it."

"As may mine," he said with a smirk, and she couldn't help but smirk back.

"Ah, yes. Your days must be positively brimming with urgent matters of national import."

"I daresay moreso than yours." He hesitated for a moment, and cautiously added, "But I shall make time, and if you are not able, so be it."

She dipped her head in understanding, and stifled another yawn. "Agreed."

"Enough of this. I may receive a hundred floggings for ordering about the queen, but I command you to get some rest."

She smiled. "Order received. Be well, Murtagh."

"Be well, Nasuada."

With that, their connection ended, and despite the buzzing in her mind, Nasuada quickly fell asleep.

To Nasuada's pleasant surprise, their letters did not cease between scrying, and she was able to meet with him twice more before the Games were set to occur.

Each meeting was less hesitant than the one before, and each letter grew more familiar, and Nasuada found herself speaking almost as freely with him as she had before he'd left.

At the last meeting before the Games, Nasuada said, "The Council officially decided that the Urgal Rider will be permitted to participate, as Queen Arya, King Orik, and Nar Garzhvog have agreed that it is acceptable, pending the outcome. I assume that if the Rider is unfairly overpowered, the elves and the dwarves may change their minds." She flashed a crooked smile, and added, "I would not be surprised if the Urgals welcomed the additional challenge."

"Agreed."

Murtagh fell silent, but Nasuada detected a hint of hesitation in it. "Do you have something on your mind?"

He cleared his throat, and firmly held her gaze. "I was thinking... Perhaps I could accompany them. As Eragon will be preoccupied with the dragons, and the ongoing construction of the stronghold." At her blank stare, he hastily added, "I would only see them to Ilirea, nothing more. I don't believe the populace would welcome my presence."

A thin thread of resentment weaved itself into his tone, and Nasuada frowned. "You deserve a chance to prove yourself, Murtagh; what better time to do it than with the new generation of Riders?"

"On the contrary, I'd think it would be the worst time. The assumption would be that I, not Eragon, was shepherding in the new generation. Mentoring them." He chuckled ruefully, with a dark look in his eyes. "I hardly think that would foster trust between the races, no matter how many Games you hold or how many species become Riders. It's simply too soon."

Nasuada considered his words, wanting to argue, but in the end, she nodded. "I understand." Her face softened, and quietly, she said, "I will regret not seeing you."

Murtaugh hesitated again, and then with a note of caution in his voice, he said, "Perhaps - if Thorn stayed outside the city, I could... travel throughout on foot. Hooded, so that nobody could recognize me. If you'd like."

Nasuada blinked in surprise. "You would do that? Risk that? Despite everything you just said?"

He nodded. "Yes."

The moment felt strangely reminiscent of their time in Urû'baen - the moment in which a single conversation had changed both everything and nothing at all. Then, she had summoned the courage to ask a question to which she'd already suspected the answer, and in response, he answered as though he'd expected the question long ago.

And now, that same feeling that both everything and nothing had changed returned to her once more, and so she drew a similar courage and asked the same question, expecting the same answer.

"Why?"

He again looked at her, searching her face for the longest time, and eventually, he said in a low, soft voice, "You know why."

The day of the Games arrived, and Nasuada watched the matches from on high.

It was interesting how different races excelled under different competitions: to the Urgals went strength, to the elves went agility, to the dwarves went stability, and while the elf Rider refused to participate, the Urgal Rider was fairly met by her competitors. Overall, Nasuada thought, it seemed to be a success.

In the back of her mind lingered the tenuous promise Murtagh had made during their last conversation, but she refused to pin her hopes upon it. It was a mere suggestion, nothing more, and while she had gladly welcomed it, he was under no obligation to agree.

And when the first day of the Games concluded, and the feast was finished, Nasuada ended the evening with a short speech and a dismissal, intent on a good night's sleep.

As she dressed for bed, Murtagh's proposal returned to the forefront of her mind, and she was frustrated by the disappointment she felt.

But then, the scrying mirror spoke.

"Nasuada?"

She jumped out of bed, hurrying over to the mirror, and in the moonlight illuminating the room, she saw Murtagh's face, doubtfully looking upon her.

"Murtagh!"

"Have you changed your mind?"

"About seeing you? Not at all."

"Then... do I have permission to remove the wards from your window?"

Excitement welled within her, and she broke into a grin. "Yes, yes, of course! Are you -?"

But the connection severed, and a moment later, there he was, hovering outside her window.

She ushered him in, and he quickly restored the wards as she stepped back to allow him room.

He turned to face her, and she felt her grin slowly give way to shock.

She'd anticipated a reaction within her much like the first time she'd laid eyes upon him in the scrying mirror - although not unexpected, it still disappointed her.

She closed her eyes for a moment to gather her composure, and forced the phantom sensation of the hot iron on her skin to vanish.

"You're here," she murmured. "You're really here."

"Yes, really. I am," he said with a roguish smile. "It's good to see you."

"You as well."

They're quiet for a moment, and then Nasuada chuckles. "I'm at a loss for words."

"How very unlike you."

"And where is your penchant for sparkling conversation? Did you leave it with Thorn?"

Nasuada then felt a brief, familiar touch to her mind, and allowed Thorn to say, It is not with me. Hello, Queen-Nasuada-Friend. Are you well?

Hello, Thorn. I am. You as well?

Yes.

I am sorry that Ilirea is not ready to welcome you.

It is for the best. Much as I do not wish to be separate from Murtagh, I know he is safe with you.

Indeed.

Be well, Queen-Nasuada-Friend.

Be well, Thorn.

With that, his presence disappeared, and Nasuada returned her focus to Murtagh, who smiled at her.

"Did he say hello?"

"And poked fun at you as well."

"To be expected," he said with a mock affect of disdain, and his smile softened. "I have missed you."

She dipped her head. "Greatly."

He searched her face, and before she could stop herself, she reached out a hand to cup his face.

She sensed an apology forming on his lips, and she shook her head. "Do not. We have said all there is to say long ago."

"It does not change the way I feel."

"I know. But... time has changed me, ever so slightly."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded, and drew back her hand. "Many days, I feel the same. I cannot forgive, but I understand." His face remained impassive, and she added in a low voice, "And some days, I can accept it. I understand. Some days, I feel the first inklings of forgiveness."

"Some days," he echoed, and he closed his eyes. "Some days."

When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy, and despite her words, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

An apology for so much - for giving in to Galbatorix, for abducting her, for torturing her, for becoming the man he'd always dreaded he'd become - and while it would never be enough, it spoke volumes.

"I know."

"I'd say nothing but apologies until my last dying breath if I thought it would make a difference."

"I know."

"With Thorn -" he broke off, and swallowed. "During our time away, we spent months never speaking to anyone but each other. More often than not, we didn't speak at all, too lost in thought to hold meaningful conversation. Too busy searching ourselves. Learning who we were outside of Galbatorix and Shruikan.

"Every so often we came upon a human settlement - people that we knew would never recognize me, so long as Thorn was hidden - and bit by bit, I allowed myself to speak. To act. To react. And Thorn learned through me. Once, there was - there was a young girl that I saved. We'd spoken a bit before the men attacked. I had to quickly flee, but I'd like to think I'd helped her in more ways than one."

"I'm sure you did," Nasuada said softly.

"We learned our new true names."

Nasuada blinked in surprise. "Oh?"

"Yes."

She didn't ask to hear it, and he didn't offer to speak it.

He gazed upon her, and quietly, he said, "The first time I saw you, I remarked to Eragon how terribly impressed I was by the way you carried yourself. How you looked like a princess, perfectly suited for royalty. And now... I knew you would be a magnificent queen, exceeding all expectations, but never could I have imagined just how extraordinary you've become."

Somehow, the words coming from him felt different than the countless number of times she'd heard them from the Council, from her citizens, from her visiting earls and nobles. They spoke in mere platitudes, hoping to curry favor and political power.

But with Murtagh, he spoke for no other reason than to express the depth of his admiration for her, and the sheer sincerity of his words warmed her heart.

"Thank you."

He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and she cupped his face in her hand once more. "You have grown."

Simple words, but she knew he could decipher the message underneath, and he dipped his head once more.

But as quickly as they'd disappeared, the images of the hot iron reappeared, bringing the smell of burning flesh along with it, and Murtagh's soft expression was momentarily replaced by the flat, hard affect he'd adopted when he'd first entered her cell with Galbatorix.

She involuntarily flinched, instantly withdrawing her hand, and although she managed to push through the flicker in time as quickly as she could, she was not fast enough to escape Murtagh's notice.

He stepped back, a thousand emotions clouding his face, and in a thick voice, he said, "I should go."

Nasuada was torn in half - her heart urging no and her mind insisting yes, and her indecision was decision enough.

"Another time," she said, and he nodded.

"Another time."

He left through the window, same as he'd arrived, and vanished into the dark of the night.

She knew, in the morning, that if she wanted to continue their friendship, it was her responsibility to pursue it.

So with another envoy to Du Weldenvarden she sent a letter.

Murtagh -

I hope you and Thorn are well. The Games were a success; celebrations lasted long into the night, and I sincerely hope this will be an ongoing event.

My days are always busy, and many evenings are dedicated to the responsibilities that leadership demands, but on occasion, I am granted those moments of solitude I cherish so very dear. And yet every so often, I find myself gazing into the mirror, vain though it may be.

This letter may not reach you if you are still staying with Eragon, but perhaps one day you will find it.

Be well.