Birds trilled out their melodious bits of song as the ancient city of Ellesmera arose to greet the new day. After having been awoken by a particularly unrelenting mockingbird some time ago, Eragon sat lazily in bed with his arm draped casually over Arya. As he looked down at Arya's tranquil face, he smiled softly.

She appeared so peaceful, so at ease. During the night, her ebony hair had formed delicate curls around her cheeks, framing her serene face. For a moment, Eragon was tempted to reach out and stroke her face. But then he remembered that she was in need of sleep. Sighing contentedly, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her and listened to the gentle steady beat of her heart. He remained so until Arya began to stir. Then he quickly rose and made his way to the windows facing the bed where he threw open the draperies in order to let the morning light in.

He tiptoed back to bed and slid in next to Arya. "Good morning," he whispered in her ear.

Arya met his deep brown eyes with her emerald ones and murmured sleepily. "You're still here, I suppose?"

"So rude you are in the morning, princess," Eragon teased. "Can't you be the least bit nice?"

"No," Arya said tiredly. "I cannot."

"What's wrong?" Eragon queried, concern apparent in his eyes.

Arya rose slowly and pulled on her robe before answering, "My sleep was troubled with ill dreams."

Eragon frowned and murmured, "What of?"

"Gilead," was Arya's short reply before plodding off to the wash closet.

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Arya sighed as the water flowed down upon her, leaving little pearl-like droplets on her skin in its wake. Resilient as she had made herself to the memories of Gilead and her imprisonment there, Arya was still troubled by the night's dreams. They had been so real, one right after the other, each bringing back some new terror; each summoning forth some old, evil fear.

But unlike normal dreams, these dreams did not disappear with the coming of dawn. Instead they were fresh and haunting in her mind, forcing her to relive the pain that she had so quickly brushed aside. Images of the dreams swam before her. Running through Durza's dank prison looking for a means of escape. Being caught and thrown to the ground. Beaten. Torture again. Each whip larger and more painful than the one before it. Looking up at the sky wishing for death. Trying to catch a bit of the gutter water on her tongue as it fell through the barred window of her basement cell.

Arya involuntarily cringed. The memories were too much. She sank to the bath's floor in despair. Hot tears filled her eyes, but she forced them to remain trapped in her eyelids, a symbol of the grief that she had bottled up for so long.

She dimly heard Eragon calling her name, but could not find it within herself to answer. Something had changed in her in the past few weeks. Somewhere along the way of discovering that she was with child and trying to convince Eragon to leave, something had broken inside of her. The mask that she had held up for so long had shattered. The fears that she had forced herself to keep at bay were back in full force. Not only did memories of Durza haunt her now.

She thought of her father, dead and so cold, upon a stone slab, his once blue eyes so cold and unseeing. His death had devastated her. But she had never bothered to scream and cry. Instead, she had allowed herself to be caught up in the consuming desire to avenge him. And when that task ended by Eragon destroying Galbatorix, nothing existed for her to work to. She felt alone, and more than that, afraid.

"Arya, what are you doing?" Ergon cried.

Startled from her thoughts, Arya jumped. "Eragon?"

She felt more than saw Eragon lifting her out of the water and wrapping her in her robe. He carried her to the bed and went back to turn off the water. When he returned, he looked at her with concern in his eyes. "What were you doing?"

"Bathing," she replied, not understanding why he had acted so rashly.

"That water was steaming! I'm surprised it didn't scald you. What were you thinking?" Eragon sat down beside her and placed his arms gently around her.

Arya looked at him and smiled weekly. "I must have been daydreaming. I am sorry I worried you."

Eragon exhaled loudly. "That must have been quite a daydream!"

When Arya declined to answer, he caught her eye and frowned. "Are you all right?"

Arya nodded, not trusting herself to be able to speak in the ancient language.

"Are your dreams still troubling you?" he asked gently.

Arya sighed. "Dreams are always troubling. I trust you know that, Eragon."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Eragon asked with concern in his voice. "I want to help you, Arya. You know that."

Arya nodded. "I know. But we each have our own set of troubles that we must work through alone. Now," she said with a fresh resolve, "we are to meet my mother in an hour for breakfast. It will not do to be late. You should dress."

Eragon eyed her wet robe and smiled. "So should you."

Arya frowned and then caught sight of herself. "Yes," she murmured, "perhaps I should."

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"Ah! Arya, Eragon, I'm glad you're here," Queen Islanzadi breezed as the couple walked through the door to her private dinner hall. "I wasn't expecting you for another fifteen minutes, but it's just as well. I have something that I want to discuss with you."

She's cheerful this morning, Eragon remarked mentally to Arya.

Arya acknowledged his statement before adding one of her own. Don't be fooled. I'm sure she has some grand scheme afoot.

Eragon smiled and proffered a seat for Arya by the Queen before finding his own across the small, round table.

"How are you feeling, daughter?" Islanzadi queried.

"Fine," Arya said, her face covered with what Eragon could tell was a forced smile.

Islanzadi seemed unconvinced, but asked no further. Instead, she beckoned to the servants to bring in the main course and then turned to Eragon and Arya.

"I hope you are hungry."

They both nodded.

"Good. Now, before we eat, I thought that perhaps we should lay down a few things concerning your child."

"Lay down a few things?" Arya said, reluctance evident in her voice.

"Yes," Islanzadi answered. "Things such as how he or she shall be raised. A child of the throne must be given the utmost in opportunity. This child would need to be shown how to run a kingdom, practice magic, or-"

"Mother," Arya interrupted. "Do you not think that it is just a little too early to be thinking of such things? I am barely four months pregnant."

"Planning ahead is always a good thing, a safe thing," Islanzadi said, looking straight at her daughter. "Eragon, what say you?"

Having not expected to have his opinion asked for, Eragon froze. "If he said what he really thought, namely that Islanzadi was being controlling, then he would offend the Queen. But if he tried to place himself in the Queen's favor, then he would be turning his back on Arya. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt both women's eyes boring into him. Finally, he decided that the middle ground was safest.

"It is not unwise to plan," he said, voice slightly hoarse. "Yet sometimes fate throws strange things our way. We cannot predict the future and, therefore, it would be difficult to lay out any kind of plan. Our child might be a Rider. Then he or she could not possibly rule Ellesmera."

"True," Islanzadi said, seemingly considering Eragon's opinion. Arya looked somewhat pleased with his response.

"Well," Islanzadi said decidedly, "perhaps we may begin preparing at a later date."

Her proposal was unanimously agreed to.

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"You surprised me back there, Eragon," Arya murmured as the pair sat back in their home sipping tea by the window.

Eragon shrugged. "I didn't want to offend anyone. Especially not your mother."

Arya smiled. "I can understand that feeling." She paused before adding, "But what you said about planning…is that what you really think?"

Eragon shrugged. "It seems logical, doesn't it? We can't see the future. How can we plan for it?"

Arya smiled and just looked at him.

"What?" Eragon said bemusedly.

"For one so young you are very wise."

Eragon smiled. "Are you mocking me?"

Arya declined a response and instead leaned over and kissed him.