CHAPTER 3- A Loss of Importance

Nasuada sighed, flipping onto her side seeking comfort in a different position. The bed she laid in was comfortable enough, but recently sleep had been evading her. The worries of the day were rushing through her head: did she make the right choices, should he have said or done something differently, were small issues on the verge of becoming large ones? She never allowed it to show on her face or in her body language, but being the queen was really starting to take its toll on her.

Leading the Varden was easy enough; in fact she had enjoyed and reveled in it. It gave her a sense of accomplishment and paved the way for her rule over Alagaёsia. But the problems of the Varden were dwarfed in comparison to the problems she faced with the whole kingdom. There were issues that Eragon had settled before he left, for which she was indeed grateful, but his leaving also caused many unforeseen problems. Though she understood his reasons for departure, she still cursed him for leaving so much on her shoulders. And even though she knew better, she could not help but feel Eragon intentionally left her with all his unwanted burdens. But what troubled her most was that she missed having a friend. Nasuada was utterly alone in this kingdom and had no one to talk to. No one she really trusted. All of the people she grew to care about had abandoned her in the most trying part of her rule. Eragon, Arya, Saphira, and…

She lost her train of thought as she was overcome by grief of which she could not put a name on. Loss, perhaps, was the easiest answer to her sadness. "Murtagh." The name made her whole body quake. Unable to stay in one place any longer, with tears rolling down her cheeks unnoticed, she ripped her thin blanket off of her night gowned body. She sat on the edge of her bed and cradled her head in her hands. Of all the people who left her, none left a bigger whole in her being than Murtagh. A void in her soul was a constant reminder of what she lost. She loved him and yet she hated him. She cursed his name but could never wish bad things on him. Nasuada was conflicted with her feelings for him. She wished she could see him but at the same time hoped she never had to see him again. It would be best for both of them. If he had cared for her so much, how could he leave her the way he did. She went round and round in her mind, never able to find the answers.

Her bare feet were cold on the stone floor of her bed chamber. She walked to the wardrobe the elves had sung her out of the twined branches of a pine tree. Opening the large wooden doors, she pulled out a night robe and yanked it over her sheer night gown, tying the front so it would not open.

The elf-made wardrobe was a gift by the elf queen herself, Arya, at the beginning of Nasuada's rule. The wardrobe did not have a back and that was for a specific reason. Arya had it set up against the wall to the left of her chamber door, then she sang to it again. This time when she sang, she entwined enchantments that Nasuada specifically requested: enchantments that only she could trigger.

Nasuada stepped up into the wardrobe, pulling the doors shut behind her. She lowered herself into a sitting position and faced the stone in wall in which the wardrobe was set up against. She stretched her legs forward. When it seemed like her feet could go no further, they disappeared inside of the wall. Nasuada smiled at the enchantment, glad to have one thing that only she knew of.

A moment later her legs were gone completely and she could feel the cold stone of the floor on the other side of the wall. Nasuada closed her eyes then, always hating the feeling of vertigo that came with her going through the wall that was not there but appeared to be. She stood up and opened her eyes. The corridor in front of her was bare. She turned around to look at the wall from which she had just went through and saw nothing there but stone. Not a trace of the magic tampering was there. Then she turned, headed to the right side of the hall. Peering around the corner, but still out of site, she saw her Nighthawkes guarding the door outside of her chamber. They made no noise, yet they were completely unaware of Nasuada's presence outside of her chamber.

She smiled as she turned around, headed back up the hallway she had come from. She walked to the opposite end of the corridor, as was her nightly routine. She then took a left, milky moonlight spilling in from the outside windows on her right. A cool breeze made her robe billow around her ankles. She shrugged her shoulders, the fabric of her robe falling in closer to her neck, and crossed her arms over her chest for warmth.

After a few minutes of walking in the corridor, she saw the door that led to where she was going. To her relief, throughout her walk she had seen no one else in the dark hours of the night. Nasuada pulled on the heavy door and slipped inside when the crack allowed enough room for her body. The door closed behind her and the shadows enveloped her, leaving her in pure darkness. She put both hands out to either side of her, waiting for the contact that told her she was in the middle of the close walls. She touched the walls at the same time. Moving her bare feet forward, Nasuada searched for the first step of the stairs on the landing as her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness around her. Having found the steps, she started up the spiral staircase that she knew would take her to her destination. Soon, a bit of moonlight lit the stairs, signaling to Nasuada that she was almost to the top of the stairwell.

Finally she put her feet on the top step of the stairs. There in front of her was the top of a dragons' tower. It was a huge room big enough to fit Saphira five times over. One wall was completely missing from the room, making it appear like a huge window. The full moon cast its light inside through the opening as it did every night. The tower was a perfect place for Nasuada to think and overlook the whole of her kingdom as she could see for hundreds of leagues on end from the tower.

Nasuada walked over to the gap and sat at the edge, dangling her feet over the side. She knew it was dangerous to do so, but she always got a thrill of excitement from it. In some cases, she believed she missed the days of the Varden, always fighting for the next step. But that was a world in which you were cautious at every turn.

The wind was cold on her legs, but she paid that no attention. Her mind was a racetrack, yet only one thing was on it.

"Murtagh,"she thought as her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes searched both the skies and the ground, looking for any sign that he might be out there. Sometimes she even looked to the heavens for some hint, just for her, as to where in the world he might be. It was a ritual.

She bit her lip, a moment passed, worry welling up inside of her. "Murtagh," she said aloud, the name seemed somewhat alien on her lips. Nasuada frowned, saying his name a second time. It was then, horror crawling over her like a spider of doom, that she realized she could no longer remember what he looked like.