A/N: This one is Nasuada's POV. It's also not written in exactly the same format, but I hope you don't mind. Review review review.

I forgot to mention in the last chapter that I don't own anything about Eragon. I'm still not giving up on Arya/Nasuada action though.

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Step Two: Deny Your Feelings

In her father's darkened room that is now hers, Nasuada is signing her name on several important decrees. The scrolls will be sent to Surda, explaining of Ajihad's untimely death and his daughter's new role as leader of the Varden. The girl sets down her quill and rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm (she feels so empty.)

The day has been long and very lonely. First her father's funeral, followed by her appointment to leadership, followed by a meeting with Hrothgar, followed by a meeting with the Council, followed by a session with runes that are now dancing before her eyes…

Creaking interrupts her thoughts. She looks up at the elf that has managed to enter her room unbidden (although she is not unwanted).

"I do not speak for Islanzadi, but I offer you my condolences and support in the coming trials, Nasuada. Your father was an asset to the Varden, and one of the few men I trusted. It was a terrible blow to lose him," she says lowly.

Arya stands very tall and very still. Only her green eyes follow the movement of Nasuada's deep breathing. (Her brilliant face is a mask, always a mask.)

The constant talk about her father makes the dark-skinned girl bristle with rage. Her heart cannot pinpoint exactly what is causing her pain, so it reacts with fury. She hates it. She is beginning to hate everything since her father died. (She doesn't hate Arya, even though she could. Because she is perfect and so much stronger than human.)

But Nasuada is a wise young woman and, although she doesn't understand why she wants to leave the room screaming, she contains her emotions and simply says nothing. It is rude, but she cannot trust herself to speak.

"I saw you fighting under Farthen Dur," the elf continues as if she did not notice. "That was bold of you."

Nasuada relaxes slightly. She reminds herself that she is a girl in a man's war. But what choice does she have? Her voice sounds softer than she intends, "I saw you as well." She rises from the heavy desk and walks nearer to her guest.

"How did you evade my guards?"

"Your guards are slow." The corner of Arya's mouth turns up momentarily, "I should guard you myself if I'm to be sure that you're safe."

The human stares back, unsure of what to say (what's new?). Her fingers fumble nervously over the front of her dress, latching her cloak over it. The pin is stuck inside the fabric, and she is beginning to fray the woven cloth trying to fix it. She feels a sudden urge to cry, hating herself for the lack of self-control she is about to display. (Oh, gods, please. Not in front of Arya.)

"My father- he liked those guards," she chokes. The clasp on her broach refuses to close and she keeps struggling. "He picked them himself. They loved him-" And then the tears come.

She bows her head, trying to stifle her sobs. The elf comes closer, a strange look (probably pity) on her face. She murmurs, "I meant to offense, Lady Nasuada." Arya steps even nearer, but does not extend her arms to the crying girl. "Forgive my words, they were unwise."

Wanting nothing more than to fall against the elf, Nasuada wipes away her tears. She wants to be held, she wants to weep into her shoulder and pretend that Arya can understand completely what she is going through. But the elf remains motionless and icy, except for the little look of sorrow in her eyes. So Nasuada stands straight, supporting herself as she always had (always would).

She would not break down, she would not cry anymore.

"There is no offense," Nasuada sniffles, still unable to steady her voice.

Arya stares for entirely too long (for a human, at least) into Nasuada's tear-stained face. She reaches out (they both tense) and latches the broken pin with ease. The metal straightens between her long fingers like it's made of nothing more than string.

She says nothing, but looks back with an apology written on her face, perhaps for not being able to express her condolences. Nasuada looks back (she's already forgiven her) and realizes how close they are. This is a foreign closeness, completely alien, and they pull apart to regain their sense of propriety. (Nasuada doesn't want it back.)

The elf nods as if she finally understands something. She asks, "Will you be able to sleep tonight?" Her face is sealed up again (no more pity or sadness or whatever that last look was) as she says it.

"I will try. Tomorrow will be a very busy day; there is much to be done."

Arya steps away, making to leave, and mumbles softly in the Ancient Language. She excuses herself without a backward glance, and Nasuada is unexpectedly overcome with the urge to close her eyes. The leader of the Varden does not know what she said (perhaps a blessing) but she doesn't stay awake much longer. She falls fully clothed into her bed.

When she wakes, she is well rested and not as weak as the day before. She understands that only magic could take her pain away. Nasuada wants to thank Arya for her spell, but she doesn't (she can't).

She can't because she dreams of haunting green eyes. They are not as harsh now, and suddenly more beautiful than she believes possible. They make her feel less empty.

And though she tries, Nasuada cannot shake the fact that she wants her.

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