Greetings, again! Your encouragement and excellent reviews have prompted me to update sooner than ever. Please keep up with the reviews, they are the greatest inspiration of all. Especially when people like my story. There is nothing quite like it!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing.

Regards,

Karldin.

CHAPTER 7

King Orik smiled as he heard Eragon's voice echo around the hill like the notes of a bell, and as the light flooded Tronjheim beautifully. Even the throne room was flooded by that light, deep though it was in the ground. Volund seemed to respond to Eragon's magic as it glowed slightly, causing Orik to frown slightly.

He could hear his people's rushing murmurs and his heart was made glad at the roars of Firnen and Saphira, Morgothal and another Dragon he did not recognize. Eragon left the land with little thanks for his great deed…but now he would understand just how much he meant to the free races of Alagaesia.

He smiled fully once more as he heard not the cheers of his subjects, but only a respectful and awed silence. They would be here soon. The keeper of the gates nodded to him as the enormous gates were thrown open, revealing a Rider clothed in pristine white robes in the forefront. Beside him was Arya, as beautiful as he remembered her and another elf he recognized as Laetri, a member of his original elven guard of twelve.

Greetings Orik. I am glad to be in your halls once again thundered Firnen's voice in his head. Saphira's voice joined in the greetings as he stepped down from his throne to meet Eragon midway.

Greetings, Saphira. Great is my pleasure to talk with you again after so long a while.

He could see the guards' eyes widening at this gesture, but knew this could be done only for such august guests.

His foster-brother had changed enormously, he observed, as Eragon stepped forward and inclined his head slightly. Silver hair that reached down to his shoulders, that shone as if it were burnished; A noble and wise face that somehow seemed more elven than any other elf in existence…even his physique had changed considerably. He seemed taller and well-built with a broad well-muscled chest, definitely not the seedy youth he remembered from the war.

But his brown eyes were gone, replaced by glowing eyes of Indigo that seemed to exude the wisdom of centuries. Eragon stepped forth and bowed slightly but Orik briskly walked to him and clasped his arm in a tight grip that bespoke of reunion and comradeship.

"You don't bow to me or to anyone, brother" he said gruffly, as he caught Eragon in a bear hug that was returned enthusiastically. The guards in the throne room cheered and Laetri smiled in happiness at this reunion. Arya's eyes also shone with a rare happiness at the sight.

"Greetings, King Orik" said Eragon with a note of true happiness in his voice. Orik narrowed his eyes at him and said seriously: "Now, Eragon. Unless you want me and mine people to bow and scrape to the Lead Rider and anoint you the chief guest of honour for all our ceremonies, you will drop the 'Your Majesties' and other tiresome formalities"

Eragon looked so taken aback at this threat that Laetri laughed a full laugh, giving an undefinable joy to the proceedings. Arya too was fighting to restrain a smile…after his stunning display of magic earlier, even she was in slight awe of Eragon. But now he looked like a fish out of the water, what with his eyes wide and mouth open in stupefaction.

Still afraid of public speech, my Rider? Came Saphira's sardonic voice, and the deep laughter of all the dragons. Arya could not stop a slight surge of fondness for the Leader of their order, as an indignant expression crossed his face.

"Fine" said Eragon resignedly. Orik brightened, and yelled to his guards. "Mine brother has returned after a century! Mead will flow today as it never has before, our nation will celebrate in a fitting manner! Announce the beginning of the festivities to our people!"

Two dwarven guards bowed, and rushed out of the hall. This was why Eragon liked the dwarves…they were a people who knew how to enjoy with heart. Orik had turned to Arya, and they both bowed to each other.

"Queen Arya, forgive me for ignoring you in favour of mine errant brother. We are truly pleased that you have deigned to visit us after so long a time" said Orik in a pleased voice. Arya smiled in delight and responded:

"Thank you, King Orik. But for now, I am here not as the Elven Queen but as Arya Shur'tugal. Those duties I have left unattended for far too long, and I must fulfil them as I can" she said in a certain voice. Eragon nodded to her, pleased by her declaration. A Rider of Arya's calibre would be a welcome addition to their Order.

Orik laughed his rough laugh, and then inclined his head: "Then welcome to Tronjheim, Arya Shur'tugal. And you, Laetri Shur'tugal, your beauty is like a burgeoning light in a dark void. I am glad to welcome you to Tronjheim, Rider!"

Laetri laughed again, accepting the King's greetings with a bow. "Eragon did not tell me of your silver tongue, Majesty" she said in her musical voice. Orik winked at them.

"Mine dear wife Hvedra has to do with the change. A hundred years of bearing with such a great Grimstcorvlass hath brought out my dormant sense of humour I am afraid" exclaimed Orik. Eragon found himself infected with his foster-brother's delight, and followed as the King of the Dwarves proceeded towards the door.

As the guards opened the gates of the throne room with a bow, Arya looked at Eragon. "Is Roran well, Ebrithil?" she asked. Eragon's and Orik's eyes widened at this mode of address, and Eragon saw how much effort it took for Arya to bend her pride enough to call him that. Laetri smiled knowingly at Arya, however.

Eragon closed his eyes, letting his senses spread everywhere. Saphira, has Roran woken yet? He asked his beautiful Dragon. Saphira took one look at his state of mind, and the retuning rush of happiness from her almost made him buckle.

Little one, if Alagaesia makes you this happy…I will not let you leave. Too long have I seen you suffer the pangs of agony, too long have I heard you scream in the throes of loss! No more. We stay here for as long as required she stated firmly. Eragon's high spirits were dampened slightly by this resolution of Saphira's.

It was not up to him, the question of staying or leaving. He was only a piece in the tides of Fate, and he would do what was necessary to protect his Riders. Whatever was necessary.

Oh, Little one…we will discuss that later. For now, your nest-mate is resting here in Isidar Mithrim. The spirits leeched much of his energy it seems. He will be well soon enoughsaid Saphira.

Sending his thanks, he looked at the concerned face of Arya and Orik. "He is well, and resting at the moment. There is no need to worry"

"You must tell me what happened to reduce Stronghammer to such a state" said Orik, stroking his beard. As they moved through the familiar hallways of Tronjheim, the populace gave way to them respectfully.

"Are we going to Isidar Mithrim?" questioned Arya, noting the route taken by the King. Orik nodded, glancing once at Eragon.

"The council was most insistent on meeting him immediately, along with the Dragons and Riders. They await us at Isidar Mithrim to pay their respects to Eragon and the Riders" said Orik. Arya nodded thoughtfully as they reached the endless staircase in no time.

Dwarven politics. Bah! Said Saphira disdainfully, remembering just what had happened to the partner-of-her-mind-and-heart the last time he had entangled himself with said politics.

"No" muttered Eragon in despair. He could endure ceremony if necessary, but it gave him a headache even now. Arya shot him an understanding look as the Dwarves began to ready the lift and pulley mechanism that would convey them to the Star Rose.

…..

Don't be so disgruntled, Eragon. Iorunn was eyeing you like a real wolf, wasn't she? Even after a century my Rider manages to turn heads!she said in mock happiness. Eragon frowned slightly at the not-so-subtle dwarven politicking he had just endured. It was evident that the clans were scrambling for power as usual, and they knew that his favour would tip the scales considerably. What they did not understand was that he was beyond such trifles.

He glanced up to the high ceiling of Isidar Mithrim with an occupied mind, remembering nostalgically his and Saphira's journey from the very first time they were here in these exact same quarters. Saphira and he were so young and inexperienced back then, simply blundering through and not taking the time to see.

Ajihad, he saw however briefly what we were going to become eventually. Without his aid we would probably be dead or worse, commented Saphira. Eragon had not thought about Ajihad since the war. A slight restlessness crept up upon him as thoughts of the long dead Varden commander filled his mind.

I must go pay my respects to him, It has been a long time indeed he said to Saphira softly as he walked briskly towards the door. I will go alone, for those sacred halls are not made for Dragons. Relax yourself, Saphira. All the…ah… activity with Firnen must have tired you much, he said with a straight face. Saphira roared indignantly, swiping a claw at him which he avoided easily and bounded outside his rooms quicker than anyone could follow.

I will get you for that, Eragonroared Saphira as he disappeared in a flash of Indigo light, only to appear at the base of Vol Turin the endless staircase. He composed himself quickly, his face regaining its impassiveness.

As he went through the dwarven halls, the people murmured "Kingslayer" and inclined their heads before going about their businesses. A slight amount of frustration ran through him at that name…it was not what he wanted to define him. Apparently, he had become too famous as the bane of Galbatorix.

That is not even my greatest accomplishment, he thought to himself as he sped through Tronjheim. Building Aiedail to what it is today was harder, much harder. The stage where he had sworn fealty to Nasuada caught his eyes, and memories rushed through him like a wave.

He could still remember himself as an untested boy of sixteen, thrust into a game of nations and fate. Swearing fealty to Nasuada, the games with the Council of Elders, the deadly dwarven politics…somehow he had survived them all. Not unscathed, perhaps, but he had survived.

The dwarven guards stepped aside to let him pass into the sacred grotto where Ajihad was interred. He walked into the tomb, the silence bearing down on as he felt the weight of his years and experiences.

"Greetings, old friend" he murmured softly, but still his voice carried throughout the dead silent crypt. He bowed in head in respect to the fallen leader, remembering his sacrifices and courage. He could feel Saphira and Firnen flying around in joy, and smiled. He then turned back to Ajihad's resting place and spoke in the language of truth.

"All this is possible because of the resolve of men like you. The peace is threatened once more, but I will not let them break it. I have lost far too much to heal this land…" he said quietly, gathering his thoughts with surprising ease and clarity.

As the resolve and composure filled him, he intoned: "Blotsma" and roses grew upon Ajihad's resting place. "I will protect this land and her people, you have my word." he said softly as he turned to find Orik looking at him with pride and sadness.

"That was well said, Eragon" he said solemnly as he beckoned Eragon to join him. They walked deeper into the crypt in total silence. Eragon thought he could almost feel the spirits of the dead dwarves, roaming the land half-in, half-out. Orik stopped a while later, looking at an extremely ornate grotto made entirely of precious stones.

Eragon's eyes widened slightly in recognition. Orik murmured dwarven prayers for peace, and Eragon joined him. Together they sang to the gods to let Hrothgar rest in peace, their voices contrasting sharply in their melodies yet soothing.

"You have not forgotten the Knurlan, Eragon" said Orik appreciatively, wiping a few tears from his eyes. "You still remember all that Gannel taught you. Arya would be displeased" he said, laughing his rough laugh. Eragon shook his head slightly.

"I am no one to judge such ancient customs, Orik. Also, I respect your race enough to fulfil my oaths diligently. I swore upon my blood, did I not?"

"That you did, Brother. Come, let us go…the dead deserve their rest" said Orik as they made their way out of the gloomy but peaceful chamber. Eragon inclined his head to the grottos one last time before he exited with Orik, uttering one last benediction infused with magic.

"Rest in peace Ajihad, Hrothgar Konungr"

…

Arya entered the dwarven training area at the dwarves' behest, for some of them still remembered the first time she had fought Eragon in this very ground. As she looked around she saw both men and dwarves practicing…it was almost like the Varden.

Some of the Varden did remain here, after all. They must be the descendants of those people, she thought to herself as she followed Thorv to the middle of the training area. She remembered Eragon trying vainly to defeat her, the way she had tested him to his limits. Even as a sixteen year old boy, Eragon was a master of the blade skilled enough to make an elf like her pay attention.

She looked up as the fighting ceased, the combatants looking at her with awe and respect. Thorv raised his hand, causing the muttering remnants to fall quiet. The frustration and hurt she had been hiding for a long time needed a release, and this was it.

In Ellesmera she often did not have time for such pursuits as administrative duties claimed much of her day. But sparring occasionally with Lord Dathedr had increased her skill tremendously. The Elf Lord was among their greatest warriors, his strength even exceeding her own before she was a Rider.

Calmness and focus stole through her as she cast off her troubles in preparation for the spar. Here, there was only the sword.

"First blood, Drottningu?" questioned Thorv politely, as he drew his own sword. By Elven or human standards it was a short sword but Thorv carried it well. She had no doubt he was as lethal with that sword as other Riders were with theirs.

Arya nodded, she had trained Thorv for a time but had never taught him swordsmanship. She was curious to see how much he had progressed in his skills, the one student she had taught formally.

"I am Arya Shur'tugal here, Not Drottningu" she said shortly, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she drew Tamerlein. The green blade glinted menacingly in the light of the Erisdar lanterns as she held it to her side. Their audience of two dozen fighters were silent, knowing that they were going to see Riders spar with each other.

"Arya" said Thorv, his eyes narrowing as he assumed his stance. With a roar, he rushed towards Arya with the speed of Elves and Riders and delivered a mighty blow that she blocked nonchalantly with a simple movement.

Thorv grinned, and began fighting in earnest. Sparks flew as their swords met with a jarring clang. Arya did not attack, but only defended herself with unbelievably fast flourishes of her sword that stymied Thorv every time he attacked.

Her raven hair whipped around as she dodged a thrust from Thorv that would have pierced her heart. Thorv was skilled, she could see that much. But in truth, he would have a long way to go before he could defeat her. She could see through his attacks, every one of them.

Thorv stared at her with narrowed eyes, both of them circling the other slowly. This time, Arya dashed forward and swung her sword at his neck too fast for anyone to see. Thorv only just managed to raise his sword to guard himself.

Her wards flared into activity as Tamerlein shattered Thorv's lesser blade to smithereens, and she saw her opponent's eyes widen as she halted her blade just shy of his neck with unnatural control. As the warriors clapped loudly, she slowly returned her blade to its sheathe.

Thorv looked at his broken blade morosely, and tossed it aside. Arya hid her disappointment with the abrupt end of the fight…she was hoping to test her skills more.

"I concede defeat" said Thorv, visibly distressed by the loss of his sword. Arya shook her head, inclining it respectfully to her fellow.

"The fight would have gone on but for a difference in weapon calibre. I apologize sincerely for shattering yours" she said. Thorv waved the gawking warriors back to their stations. "It was mine father's blade. We Knurlan rarely carry swords, but those that we do carry are often precious to us"

Arya was about to reply, when she faintly sensed the use of magic. She turned to find Laetri walking through the warriors, her face wrinkling slightly as she picked up the broken sword Thorv had tossed away. She could see the men in the field stare at Laetri's form with open wonder, some with lust. The field grew silent again as Arya and Laetri met at the centre of the field.

"Greetings, Arya" she said in deference of the Queen's wishes to be treated as a fellow Rider. "And Thorv. You must not let a broken sword interrupt so invigorating a fight. Let me help you" she said, and Thorv watched with amazed eyes as shards of his sword flew back together to their original place. Within moments, Laetri held out to him his now resurrected sword which he received gladly.

"Thank you, Laetri Shur'tugal" he said with happiness, bowing slightly. "And Arya, I will save my wounded pride and stop here. We both know that you would have defeated me a few moves later"

Arya nodded to him as he began to exhort the warriors to return to their practice, and walked out of the arena with Laetri. Out of the corner of her eye she could appreciate the grace and beauty Laetri held. She and Laetri were considered to be among the most beautiful elf-maids alive.

Her old companion Glenwing had fallen hard for Laetri's beauty and poise, as he had once confided to her during their many journeys. Her mind could recall clearly the awed way in which Glenwing had described Laetri, with an expression of wonder upon his face.

They sat together around the fire, having just left the Varden for Ellesmera. The night was tranquil and silent but for the clickety-click of night insects. Three elven warriors sat around the blazing fire, their noble faces showing little expression.

"Deynor told me something you should know. He got the message from Brom yesterday" stated Arya, looking at Faolin and Glenwing.

"What is it, Drottningu?" asked Glenwing curiously. Faolin was staring at her with an emotion that awoke strong emotions in her heart. Closing her eyes briefly, she said with a tone of happiness:

"Brom has killed Formora."

Glenwing's eyes widened, and Faolin's mouth opened and closed for a moment before he regained his composure.

"Indeed? That is wonderful news! I feel ashamed to call myself Alfakyn…for all our power, we are hiding in our forests and letting Brom shoulder the burden himself" he said with mixed emotions.

"As the queen commands, so it shall be" said Arya with a slight tone of bitterness. But Glenwing sat with a slight frown marring his face.

"Laetri svit-kona will be saddened and angered. She had sworn to kill Formora by her own hand, but now she will never have that opportunity" he said with tender look on his face. Arya looked at him scrutinizingly.

"You care for Laetri?"

Glenwing's face took on an expression of adoration as he nodded with delight. Arya sometimes felt honoured to have found companions in Faolin and Glenwing, two Alfakyn who trusted her enough to be so free with her.

"I do. She is the most beautiful elf-maid I have ever set my eyes upon. Her long waist-length silvery hair that entrances my mind with its benevolent shine, her slender and perfect form that never fails to stun me! A face that shines with the beauty and magic of Alfakyn, large blue eyes that draws me in like fathomless pools of mystery…by Vrael, I would count her as a goddess if there ever existed one!" he said passionately.

"He was not the one for me" came Laetri's sad murmur to her ears, shaking her out of reminiscing. She had forgotten Laetri's unnatural ability with the mind-pool.

"Do not be alarmed, I only heard faint echoes of his name in your mind. You have shielded yourself well, Majesty" she said, waving her hand to enclose them with spells against hearing by means mundane and magical.

Arya inclined her head at Laetri. "Thank you. From you that is great praise indeed"

They had stopped at a deserted dwarven hall with a fountain in its centre. The tinkling noise of falling water fell pleasantly on their ears as they seated themselves on its edge. Laetri looked at her suddenly, shining blue eyes meeting shining emerald eyes.

"I sought you out for a reason, your Majesty" she said in her melodious voice. Subconsciously Arya found herself thinking if Eragon found Laetri's form as pleasing as he once found hers. She felt Firnen's amusement at the thought, and his reassurances.

You must not judge yourself by foreign standards, Arya. You are yourself, no more and no less, he said to her firmly. Her Dragon's wisdom fell on deaf ears as she continued with the same train of thought. She missed the familiarity she had once shared with Eragon, the ability to bare her fears and happiness to him like she had with no other.

"I came to apologize for my intrusion in Du Fells Nangoroth. Normally, I would never interfere in so intimate a moment, but this time I had to. When Eragon's sanity itself is at stake…I had to take steps. I cannot lose him once more to…to that suffering" said Laetri, and Arya was surprised to find unshed tears in the eyes of the heart-stoppingly beautiful elf-woman.

"You told me that I do not understand" said Arya slowly, gathering her thoughts. "I wish to understand, Laetri svit-kona. I will stop if this question is an intrusion of privacy, but…what is it that exists between you and Eragon?"

She waited with bated breath as Laetri considered the question silently. They sat in silence for about a quarter of an hour before Laetri looked at her directly.

"I am not the only Rider Sahloknir has" she whispered softly. Arya gasped at this, her mind churning agitatedly at the implications. Laetri continued, however.

"The spirits had torn Eragon's soul into shreds, Arya Drottningu. After the sacrifice, he was like a broken man…a ghost with no chance at peace" said Laetri with a single tear threatening to fall from her eyebrows. Arya recoiled as she saw Laetri's memories of that time for a short moment.

Eragon screamed with his full voice, tossing and turning in his bed. He looked pale and sickly as if the very life force had drained out of him. He looked as if he were at death's door.

The anguish of his mind thrust itself upon the Nine and-

Arya closed her eyes, deeply horrified and afraid of the misery Eragon had undergone. Is that what happens when your soul is unmade? She thought to herself. It was a violation…a torture she would not wish upon anyone.

"What did the spirits do to him during his year's absence?" asked Arya in a small voice. She could feel Firnen's boundless sorrow at this realization. She herself had almost broken at a few months torture from Durza. But Eragon was subjected to evil spirits that could rend the soul itself.

"That is not for me to tell" said Laetri in an equally small voice. "Suffice it to say that what happened to him was beyond human and Elven conception of pain" she said, quickly glossing over the topic. Arya felt insignificant at this statement…no wonder Eragon was so different. Her admiration for him grew enormously…her image of Eragon as the love struck but earnest teenager was fading. The more she heard about Eragon's life after the war, the more her fascination with the Lead Rider grew.

"He was on the throes of death, as was Saphira. I…I could not let him die, not after what he had done for me" said Laetri. And Arya saw it as plain as day. Laetri loved Eragon as much as she ever did. Her eyes told Arya everything about how much she loved Eragon…she had no doubt Laetri would give up anything in her world for Eragon's happiness.

"I never thought I would see a being willing to tear their very soul for the ones they care about. I knew at once that he was precious to me, that he had become the centre of my world after his sacrifice. I knew that if he died, Saphira would also die and I and Sahloknir would follow" said Laetri. Though her heart was hurting like never before, Arya slowly held the other woman's hands in an attempt to comfort her.

"He could not die" said Laetri again. "I would not let him. Even if I had to die myself, I would save him" she said, her hands shaking slightly in Arya's. Arya found herself wondering if Eragon knew just how much he affected the people around him with his actions.

After a few moments, Laetri seemed to collect herself.

"Queen Arya, he brought me back my Sahloknir. What he underwent under those abominations, even I do not know fully. With Sahloknir's consent, I wove magic" said Laetri, looking distant at the memories.

"For ten days and ten nights, the Nine of us immersed ourselves in his mind trying to understand what had happened to him. We came to the conclusion that certain parts of what made him Eragon were no longer there…it was those voids in his soul that was destroying him" she said, trying to impress upon Arya what had happened.

"So I decided to fill those voids as much as I could. With Sahloknir's and Saphira's blessing, and the advice of Umaroth-elda, I used the created a spell to guide my intent. I used it to create a bond between Sahloknir and Eragon…thinking that the weight of two dragon-bonds would be enough to anchor him to this world. I was right, he slowly improved though for the next ten years…"

Arya's mind was in utter turmoil at this story that made her question herself in impossible ways. Questions and chaos dominated her mind, and it was thrown into further disarray as Firnen's own confusion joined hers. She urged Laetri as she trailed off, seemingly catching herself before uttering something unpleasant.

"Say on, Laetri svit-kona" said Arya listlessly. Laetri looked at her uncertainly, and continued in a low voice.

"For those ten years, the very mention of your name would make him fall into days of unbearable pain. We could not bear it, what was happening to him. Speaking your name was forbidden on Aiedail…Eragon cast a spell that struck dumb anyone who said your name" she said in a rush.

Tears flowed down Arya's face continuously as she inferred how much Eragon should have loved her. Was I such a large part of his heart, that cutting me out nearly rendered him unable to live? Oh, Eragon…

"I…I did not know" said Arya in a choked voice. "I knew he was fond of me, I even heard his true name… I knew he loved me very much, but I just did not understand" she whispered.

"He loved you to such an extent that you were as important to him as Saphira and the air he breathes" said Laetri reverently, as if imagining such a love. "That is why it was such an unutterably great sacrifice he made. He tore himself to pieces to save me and Sahloknir. For a hundred years, he has lived in pain of being incomplete"

All composure left Arya at these words as she knelt down on the rough floor, shedding bitter tears for Eragon's life and their fate. She felt Laetri's arm around her shoulders, comforting her.

"You are not to blame for this. You could not help that you did not love him then, Arya Drottningu" she murmured softly. Arya looked at her with a tear-stained face, slightly ashamed at how she lost a composure that did not crack even after a hundred years of Elven politics.

Arya shook her head, saying nothing. She had repeatedly broken Eragon's innocent and forgiving heart for fear of her own feelings, had extinguished Eragon's simple and pure hope for her own insecurities. A new realization dawned on her, causing her such pain that she nearly collapsed.

I gave him no reason to stay in Alagaesia. With all the resources he possessed, he could have raised the Riders right here if he had a reason. I turned him away for my duty and he has suffered for my selfishness and fear.

This is my fault.

Firnen did not interfere, and she was thankful for that. She did not deserve any comfort after her actions. She did not deserve to even speak to Eragon after all that she had done to him.

I do not deserve to love him, the thought was filled with such grief and self-loathing that even her powerful mental protections could not conceal it. Laetri heard the thought clearly, and her eyes widened.

"Your Majesty, your adherence to duty is a part of who you are" said Laetri softly. She could feel Arya shaking slightly. "It is who you are. Do not be ashamed for that" she said firmly to the young queen. Arya hid her face, the tremors of her body increasing. Laetri heard the roars of Firnen echoing through Farthen Dur. She reached out to the queen with her mind, and almost recoiled at the emotions that existed there.

Hatred for herself, sadness at being parted for so long, crushing sorrow for Eragon's sufferings…and a hint of jealousy. Laetri laid her first two fingers upon Arya's brow, whispering "Slytha". The beautiful young queen fell asleep, and Laetri felt the currents of her mind settle.

At the same time, she felt her privacy spells shatter and saw Eragon striding briskly into the hall with a worried face. "Sahloknir told me" he said, looking at Laetri sadly.

"You did the right thing by telling her. If anyone needs to know, it is her. She is too deeply connected to me and the Order to be left in the dark. You did the right thing." he reassured Laetri who was staring at the sleeping queen with a look of great regret.

"She is a strong warrior and Queen, she will overcome this crisis." said Eragon calmly, picking Arya up as if she were an infant and disappeared with a flash of Indigo light, taking Laetri with him. Laetri's thought echoed through him in response:

She is a strong warrior and Queen, but she is also a woman, Eragon-elda.

….

Eragon stood at the foot of Arya's bed, watching her breathe evenly in her sleep. Her raven hair splayed out on the bed and she seemed to be muttering softly in her sleep. Laetri's elaboration of his experiences seemed to have affected her to a great extent, causing her to mind to slip into chaos.

Even after all this, you cannot see her suffer came Saphira's voice gently. It was true. Despite the pain she had caused him, he could not see her suffer. He felt curiously…protective of her. As he saw her sleeping with no mask of elven etiquette, he found he could in fact understand a part of her.

He went to sit beside her on her bed, slowly reaching out to stroke her flawless cheek with two fingers. His eyes widened as Arya muttered softly in her sleep, and edged towards him slightly.

I can see why I must have fallen for her, he thought to Saphira. She is indeed very beautiful. And I was only just maturing…I can't think how you bore with me, Saphira. I should have irritated you beyond belief with my adolescent yearnings for her he said, withdrawing his hand.

You cannot imagine, Little one, just how much you pined after herlaughed Saphira softly. But then her voice grew somber as she said: But you were my Rider, my partner who could love with all his heart. Arya was not wise to turn away the gift you bestowed upon her.

Arya began muttering restlessly again, a note of fear entering her voice. Eragon gently stroked the side of her face, arranging her hair into its original curls. She grew silent under his touch, leaning into his hand with a sigh.

His face grew troubled at her involuntary actions. He could not afford to be incapacitated at this critical time, not now when he sought to establish the Riders in Alagaesia once more. I have never seen her like this, Saphira.

Me neither, Eragon. But I have seen someone like this many times, I have felt their emotions in that state intimatelyasserted Saphira. Eragon nodded.

Me.

Yes. She looks exactly the way you did when she broke your heart after the Agaeti Blodhren, said Saphira. Eragon nodded again, it was to be expected. He felt truly sorry for what she was going through, but his Riders depended upon him. He would not let them down, nor would he let Alagaesia's peace be broken.

"Eragon" came Arya's whisper. It was clear she was dreaming. Eragon squeezed her hand in comfort, and disengaged entirely from her. He needed to speak to Blodhgarm to inform him of his findings. Aiedail was more important to him than Alagaesia, and he would not have it unaware of any threat.

Laetri, I must leave. Will you watch over her? He asked Laetri by mind, broadcasting his thoughts to her. He felt her assent, and as he waited for her to arrive he raised his voice in song.

As the sweet melody washed over Arya's subconscious senses, she slept with a smile on her face. The door opened as Laetri walked in quietly, looking at Arya's serene face with a faint hint of relief.

"Thank you, Laetri" said Eragon softly as he passed her by. What was that you just did, Eragon? Asked Saphira teasingly. Eragon shushed her immediately. As I said…I can SEE a part of her. I cannot help but feel compassion and pity for her, she has had to hide her true self for so long that she has forgotten who she is. She is just like a helpless bird that has forgotten to fly…a bird that has forgotten that it has wings.

They remained silent as Eragon strode for his quarters at Isidar Mithrim. Then Saphira spoke with a note of pride and nostalgia in her rich voice:

You have grown wise, Eragon. Oromis and Glaedr would be proud…nay, they would wholeheartedly respect who you are today.

...