Last chapter:

"I am Nienna."

Eragon smiled warmly, and the elf returned the expression. Eragon continued to speak in the Ancient language- it pleased him, for some reason. It felt more private, knowing that nobody nearby could understand. "I hope your journey was uneventful?"

Nienna shrugged. "I encountered a few soldiers, but I was able to avoid them. I bring greetings from my Queen- she hopes this message finds you happy."

Eragon frowned at the choice of words. Shouldn't that be 'well'? Saphira seconded his confusion. However, before Eragon could say anything their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a quiet cough. Eragon, looking around, saw a smiling Nasuada- yet the smile was obviously strained, and she stared pointedly at Eragon and Nienna's still clasped hands. Eragon went to gently pull away, but Nienna did not release him.

"You must be Nasuada," Nienna spoke in Nasuada and Eragon's tongue now. Nasuada smiled politely. It didn't reach her eyes. "I do most sincerely apologise for this, but my Queen wishes for Eragon to be informed of important issues that concern him. Is there a place where we might speak privately?"

"If these issues concern the Varden, wouldn't it be apt for me to be present also?"

"My Queen's instructions were to speak directly with Eragon, and Eragon only."

Both Nasuada and Nienna still smiled sweetly, but the change in atmosphere was so sudden it was almost visible; the members of the Varden watched in awed silence as their leader sized up the newcomer. Then Nasuada said- a little stiffly: "Of course. However, if any of these messages do concern the Varden, I will expect Eragon to notify me."

Nienna nodded. Her sweet smile never faltered, and neither did she release Eragon's hand. "Of course." Her gaze fell upon one of the guards that stood behind Nasuada, ready to defend their leader at a moments notice. "Ah- would you be so kind as to lead us to a place where we might speak?"

Nasuada stiffened, and the smile slid quickly from her face. The guards looked to Nasuada. "I know nothing of the elves, but in human society we do not order around our superiors guards without permission!"

The Varden watched the scene before them in horror as Nienna's smile grew ever wider. "My sincere apologies." She curtsied, and turned to face Eragon. "Perhaps you can take me?"

"Of course," Eragon muttered. He lead Nienna through the crowd by the hand- which she still refused to let go of- and the people remained silent as they parted to let them through. As the pair rounded the corner behind a tent, the last thing Eragon saw of the crowd was Roran and Baldor laughing silently, tears rolling down their faces.

"This will be your tent."

Nienna nodded and pushed aside the cloth door, stepping inside; Eragon took advantage of her distraction to wipe his sweaty palms on his tunic. Laughter erupted from somewhere behind him, and he started. He turned to see Baldor and Roran half concealed behind Eragon's tent, which was nearby, rolling around on the floor with laughter, tears of mirth rolling down their cheeks. They appeared to have followed him here. Eragon made his way back to them, and hissed; "Stop following us like little boys! This is serious and important!"

His words only made the two laugh harder. He started to run toward them, fists raised, but Nienna called to him. He ignored them when they burst into new peals of laughter and turned to walk into the tent in what he hoped was a dignified manner.

"Sorry about that," he said. She smiled in response, already seated on her bed. She gestured for him to join her, and he did, sitting next to her. Only then did he notice that Saphira had not followed them. Saphira, where are you?

The reply was instant. Remembered me, have you? Unmistakable jealousy tainted her voice. Eragon smiled.

Sorry.

Hmph.

Pulling his attention, he found Nienna staring intently at him. He blushed, and looked down. "Sorry. Saphira sends her regards."

Ha!

Nienna smiled, and turned suddenly business like. Yet again, Eragon was struck by how fast the elves' temperaments changed. "Now," she said, "to business."

Arya awoke with wedding bells ringing in her pointed ears. For a few minutes, she simply lay where she was, perfectly still, staring at the canvas above her head. She knew it would not help her or the elves- least of all the Varden- to stay in bed, dwelling on her strange dream, but she could not force herself to rise. So, instead of getting out of bed and going to meet the Council of Elders as per usual, she

What could it mean? She thought, remembering the happiness on Eragon's sunlit face. Happiness she had not seen there in a long, long time… Pleasure filled her as the filled her mind with that image- of Eragon, smiling- and warmth blossomed inside her for the first time in what felt like an age. Even if the image was imaginary.

With a jolt, Arya realized that some unknown force was touching her mind- it brushed her consciousness not violently, but… urgently. A little confused, Arya tentatively reached out and recognized Tiama, a young female elf in Blodhgarm's command. She lowered the barriers around her mind, and Tiama rushed to greet her in the ancient language, finishing hurriedly with; Princess, Nienna is here.

Arya's emerald eyes widened with shock. Nienna was a capricious, cheeky young elf who had served the Queen with her cunning use of magic, fierce tongue and unchallenged use of her blade, Fivain. What? Why?

The Queen sent her, Princess Arya. She gave no reason.

Arya nodded absent mindedly before remembering the elf could not see her. Of course. Where is she now?

She and Lord Silverhand entered her tent alone some time ago.

Several emotions swept through the princess- confusion, pain…

Jealousy?

She tried to hide them from the elf, but not quickly enough. Tiama bowed respectfully out of Arya's mind as hastily as she could, and the princess could focus fully on the issue at hand.

Nienna and Eragon. In a tent.

Alone!

Anger filled Arya's mind, obliterating sensible thought. She snatched up her sword and strode out of the tent. The humans she passed fell silent as she walked by.

"…and the poor thing had to be fished out with a net!"

The leaf-green tent filled with the musical tinkling that was Nienna's laugh as Eragon finished his tale. He did not laugh; rather, he grinned and watched her, thinking how alike to Arya she was…

When Nienna stopped laughing, she smiled at him. "Tell me about you, Nienna."

"I serve the Queen. My mother was Kerria, and my father was Galdor. What more do you want to know?"

Eragon frowned. "There is more to a person than that. What do you enjoy? What are your hobbies?"

This time, it was Nienna's turn to frown. "Well-"

At that moment, before she could answer, the cloth door was ripped aside and in it's place stood a very definitely angry Arya. She stood tall and proud, and moved with a grace which Eragon had only ever seen dancers use. He thought, in that moment, that no one could ever be more beautiful.

"Nienna." Arya abandoned the ancient traditional greetings and spoke coldly. Nienna's smile faded swiftly, and she answered just as coldly.

"Arya Drottningu."

Eragon gulped. "I see you two have met."

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Arya x