15

Autumn that year was particularly beautiful, as it seemed that all the seasons were being intensified lately. Summer had been too hot for her taste, but now that all the heat was gone, the agreeable temperature, combined with the pretty colors, made Du Weldenvarden the perfect place.

Arya very often walked through the forest barefoot, her chin up and arms open. She liked to feel the energy emanating from the trees, the flowers and all the living creatures crawling unseen under all that myriad of colors. Such scenario could almost make her forget her problems. Almost.

If most of her subjects lived their lives in the lightest way possible, contemplating the landscape for several hours during the day or dedicating all of their time to pursue beauty and excellence, her reality was far from that. If the other elves would lose track of time inside the forest, she counted the minutes. When would the next egg hatch? When would the council take the decision they had been considering to take for months? When would she have time to fly away with Fírnen just to feel free again? How many hours fit in a year? How about in ten? She just kept counting.

It was dark already when she arrived on the Crags of Tel'naeír. The meeting with the noble houses as always had been taxing, especially because she had to refrain herself constantly not to offend any lord or lady. They were too stiff, narrow minded. Stuck up, as Eragon once called them in a moment of irritation. She laughed a little just to think of it. How interesting would be to see the Rider dealing with the council in her place. Of course, he would never be in her place, but still, she could imagine his face turning red as he tried to keep his composure to avoid punching them in their faces.

Still with an amused grin in her face, Arya met Avelina outside Oromis' old hut, her temporary house for the next year. She had prepared dinner for the both of them and waited for the queen to arrive so she could set the table. It was the perfect evening to dine outside.

The young woman greeted Arya in the elven way, who responded accordingly. Arya found Avelina's company a treat, so pleasant and easy they were becoming fast friends. It was easy because the girl wouldn't rush to fill the silence between them or judge when Arya expressed a different preference or opinion on something. She was kind, but too smart for her own good.

When scrying with Eragon in their first scheduled appointment after her return from Fell Thindarë, Arya felt saddened, even if his pleasantries made her smile. He was warm as always and told her in details how the start of his work with Renir had been. She noticed he was excited to finally achieve progress in dealing with his rebellious pupil. That too made her smile. Then he spoke about his conversation with Angela and all the things he thought about it. How Elva was suspiciously quiet and Angela's odd reaction when he mentioned Bachel. The latter being the most concerning in his opinion, and so he explained to her why. He asked her opinion, to what she could only say she agreed with him in everything and he should keep watching the land how he had been doing so well. What else would she say? The whole truth? How she wanted him to come see for himself about Elva and Bachel? It would only sadden him as well, and she refused to cause them such discomfort.

When saying his goodbye, he kept his warmth but didn't show too much affection, after all that was an official scrying session, not a personal one. She followed his lead and ended the spell. Avelina was on the corner of Arya's study during the entire time, but Arya didn't mind that she had heard it all, Eragon didn't as well, for Renir also accompanied the master constantly. It was a strange arrangement, but Arya trusted in Eragon's methods and hoped those two would be the bright future of their order. What Arya minded, however, was how Avelina was able to read her expressions like an open book.

"Why don't you arrange to have a personal mirror in your chambers, so you two could have more privacy, your majesty?" Avelina questioned in a casual voice.

"Why would we need more privacy?"

"If you allow me to say it, your majesty, but you seemed to want to speak more freely. I was wondering if it would be beneficial if you kept constant contact with master Eragon, that isn't bound by formal means."

"It would be inappropriate to break the rules of the forest in self benefit." Arya was severe. "This mirror is an exception to the protective spell because it's strictly needed. Otherwise, no scrying inside our limits is allowed."

"Don't you think this is an old and outdated rule? What do you need it for? Elves walk free around the land again, among humans and dwarves. Even the urgals are seen more often. You don't have to hide here anymore, the war is long over."

Arya pondered. She had the same idea for a long time, but decided not to act on it, for she feared she would be accused of being too open and liberal. Caution was in order for the time being.

"Perhaps. But it's not a decision to be taken lightly. It requires long consideration."

Avelina nodded and kept quiet, while Arya studied the reports delivered by her scouts.

"Excuse me, your majesty, but I would like to say one more thing." Arya gestured so Avelina could keep talking. "I understand what you are going through and I am sorry." She had a soft and empathetic voice.

"What I'm going through? I don't understand." Arya leaned forward to place her elbows on her desk as Avelina came to sit opposite her.

"With master. It saddens you, and I'm sorry."

Arya's jaw dropped and she felt her cheeks warm.

"What do you mean?"

"You both are so different and so distant in the world. I understand it, since Renir and I have a similar problem."

"Eragon and I are not..." She failed trying to find the right word, for she didn't know what they were not, she didn't even know what they were. "…like you and Renir."

"I see." Avelina diverted her look, apparently concerned she had stepped on unstable ground.

Arya didn't want to embarrass her pupil or to make her fear saying something to her, for she was fond of the girl.

"It's a... It's a difficult situation, because of the motives you mentioned, but for others even greater too." Arya didn't deny the girl's suspicion which didn't go unnoticed.

They stared at each other. Arya saw curiosity in that pair of brown eyes. They were a different shade from the ones she was so familiar with, instead of a rich shade of wet dirt, hers were softer, almost like hazelnut. It went well with her pale skin and sandy long hair that she braided almost always in intricate designs tight on her head. She was a beautiful twenty-year-old woman, but her beauty wasn't her best feature, it was her intuition.

"It's a secret, isn't it? You and him. I imagine why a relationship between you two would be a problem."

Arya would feel inspected, with her privacy violated, if it was anyone else making those assumptions. Her intuition wasn't her only great quality as well, for her charisma could open many locked doors, such as Arya's intimacy. That day was the day when Avelina became Arya's confidant, and Arya, Avelina's. They shared a lot of their lives with each other with time, but trusted that the other would keep it all between them. Arya would keep her royal matter a secret, however, and Avelina kept protected her role as the daughter and heir of a rich lord as well. They were surrounded by the entangled strings of politics, but refused to let it be an issue in their new found camaraderie.

The food Avelina cooked was amazing. It was a family recipe from her ancestors, old inhabitants of her birthplace, Bullridge, taught from mother to daughter, but adapted to the meatless diet they both followed.

"I received a letter from Renir." Avelina started. "He said Eragon and him had finished with the first part of building the garden. Next, they will start planting the seeds and singing to the plants, which he expects to take several months, if not years."

Arya swallowed and said. "It appears they want to be thorough."

"I believe so." And a malicious grin took her lips.

"What is it?" Arya narrowed her eyes.

Avelina shrugged.

"I can only imagine why master Eragon would want to put so much effort on a garden."

Arya almost rolled her eyes at the insinuation.

"That's Eragon. Everything he does he must do the best he can."

"Yes, but I saw the map..."

"And?"

"No matter." Avelina waved casually with playfulness. "He gave you an entire hill, of course he would give you a garden. I wouldn't be surprised if the next time you arrive there, the river itself would be renamed after you."

Arya laughed at the exaggeration, it really was an absurd image.

They talked amenities during dinner, waiting for their dragons to return from hunting. Fírnen and Runalla were good friends and enjoyed each other's company very much. For Arya, it was a relief to have someone to take her dragon out of his boredom, since she was so busy with her work all the time.

The politics of the elves were as complicated as it could be. It moved slowly, but at times, very rarely, it would explode in intrigue and betrayal. They all feared those moments, so the players considered many times before making their moves. Arya was a inexperienced player, but a powerful one, still to be proven as feared as her mother and as respected as her father.

Ellesméra, being the Elven Capital, was the place where the most important moves were made. There, the lords and ladies, members of the council, would meet regularly to discuss what Arya thought to be the same matters over and over again. A little detail, for insignificant as it seemed, was debated restless until an agreement was reached; the queen's word being the definitive opinion on the matter. Not a single leaf would drop from a tree in Du Weldenvarden without the discussion of the council and the approval of the queen. Right at that moment, they were analyzing the possibility of starting to produce lavender themselves instead of buying from the Kingdom or Surda. But that was only one decision on that matter to be taken; they still had to discuss where would it be, who would be allowed to produce it, if they would sell it and how much of it would go for trading and how much would stay inside the forest. They were even to choose the type of lavender, and also if magic would be used or not, and if the answer was positive, how much magic? Because there was the issue of weather. And with all that, there it went at least five years of relentless meetings. Someday, maybe, the elves would be proud producers of their own lavender. But it wasn't going to be so soon.

Arya hated that part of her work, she hated how much her people kept themselves from actually living, for the sake of a long and slow life. She had lived among humans and dwarves for long enough to grasp the true meaning of living life. They didn't wait, especially humans. If they wanted something, they would go get it. If they had an opinion, they would say it right away or forget about it completely in fear of hurting someone's feelings, but never give little hints of it for decades until the others could finally have the full idea of what it was about. No, humans were opportunists. For better or for worse

With that notion in her mind, Arya evaluated the young individual in front of her. She was a great opportunist. In seven years as an apprentice Rider, she went from a child even in human standards to a grown woman, intelligent and powerful. Avelina was skilled as rarely was seen among human Riders. She was strong too, physically, which was a great surprise to those who would see her slender form, but also mentally. Especially mentally. Arya considered Avelina to be an opportunist because the young Rider would eat up her masters' words, eager for learning. She would make question after question and spend hours immersed in a good reading. If a challenge was proposed to her, she would take it gladly and only rest when it was completed. Avelina was the best kind of opportunist.

After they finished eating, Avelina went inside to put the dishes away and grab the game of runes they were using to practice wordless magic.

Ever since they arrived from Arngor, Arya was determined to be as proficient in that special kind of magic as Eragon was, not for the competition, but to offer him support when dealing with the new threats the all feared. Well, maybe she was in a competing mood just a little, but mainly she wanted to be ready. Avelina, being advanced in her studies for being so dedicated, was completely capable of keeping up with her elder in training under Arya's guidance. She had Arya's discipline and Eragon's creativity, as she was crafted from both of their essences in perfect harmony. How curious.

Moving the runes on the board had become easy for both of them, but actually wining the game was Arya's specialty. Avelina failed every single time in trying to beat the queen, that marveled in noticing how the young Rider was resilient and resigned in accepting the defeat, only to want to go again. She hardly got angry or frustrated, and it was easy for Arya to realize she just wanted to play. She loved the game more than she loved wining. And that might have revealed one of Avelina's flaws. Would her be too passive? In that, she wasn't anything alike her masters, for she wasn't impulsive like Eragon, neither fierce like Arya.

Arya put an end to their mental battle when Fírnen and Runalla landed on the crags, bidding Rider and dragon goodbye. She was exhausted from conferring all day, but relaxed after a good time with a friend. Still, a good night of rest was most needed. And that was the way Arya spent almost all of her autumn evenings that year.

Time passed, and they moved on to bigger challenges as they progressed on their studies. Arya was careful not to put her student in danger by demanding more than she or even Arya could handle. She had the help of some of the best spellcasters of Ellesméra. They instructed them both, and supervised their experiments. Arya and Avelina meditated every morning before sunlight to expand their mental power and practiced wordless magic. It was a straining but satisfying routine. It kept time running for Arya. Not running exactly, but passing.

Winter came, harsh as promised. The magic of Du Weldenvarden kept most of the severity of the winds and snow at bay, but still it wasn't easy for its inhabitants, who hid inside their homes. On the other hand, The Kingdom and Fell Thindarë had it worse than Surda, Farthen Dûr and the elven cities.

In that sense, the scrying sessions with Eragon worried her and the other leaders of Alagaësia to no end, because Fell Thindarë had locked its entire population inside, isolating them from the rest of the world. Not exactly isolated, since the dragons could still fly, and the dwarves had dug through the entrance, but traveling east had become impossible if not by dragon wings, and supply shipment had to be cancelled. Sending aid was impractical. They were on their own.

Arya had asked Eragon what could she do to help. He smiled sadly and said "If you were a believer I would ask you to pray for better weather. In this case, just… Hope for it."

And so she did.

For her, life went by the same for the following days, until Vanir arrived from The Kingdom carrying a note. It was a request from the Earl of Palancar Valley to meet and discuss the deployment of elven healers to the area. It was a request for a meeting between leaders, not a mission to the Rider. Even so, she would fly to him as a Rider would.

"What should I answer, your majesty?" Vanir was waiting by her desk.

"Tell him I will travel to Carvahall and meet with him."

"Your majesty? You will go to him? Why not require him to come meet with you here? You are the queen after all, and he is just…"

"Roran is a friend, Vanir." She interrupted. "Tell him I will arrive in a fortnight at noon."

"With a retinue?"

"No. Only Avelina and Runalla are to accompany Fírnen and I."

Vanir's face turned to a grimace, but he didn't protest.

"Yes, your majesty."

"You may go now, Vanir." The Ambassador turned to leave, but Arya called him again. "And Vanir!"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Next time you must refrain yourself from calling someone, anyone, as just… whatever you think they are. That's all."

She waved to have him leave. Vanir was visibly embarrassed, but didn't protest. It seemed to Arya that he still had lots to learn about tolerance.

It was a bright winter day when Fírnen and Arya sighted Carvahall at a fair distance covered in snow, and if Roran had waited for too long he was polite enough not to mention after their landing. Arya and her companions were shamelessly late. She would normally keep quiet about her troubled relationship with time, but since she was in the position of a leader addressing another authority, she thought it would be the right thing to apologize.

Roran smiled gently and said he understood and even predicted she would take a little longer to get there. His smile caused the skin around his eyes to crease softly, almost exactly like Eragon's. Arya had never noticed that similarity between them before, but in that moment it was all she could see.

"Welcome back, Arya Dröttning, Fírnen. And you two must be Avelina and Runalla." Roran greeted them.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Roran Stronghammer." Avelina said graciously.

"The honor is mine, to meet the first human Rider after Eragon. You bring pride to our kind." She smiled grandly and made a little courtesy. He pointed to the building behind his back and said. "Come inside! Katrina and Ismira are anxious to see you all."

Roran's castle was impressive, and Arya admired the building every time she visited them. It wasn't luxurious in any way, but strong and gigantic like a fortress, big enough to shelter the dragons. It sat atop of a hill over Carvahall watching it all from above. Arya knew that the family would prefer to live in the farm, but Roran was needed there at any time of day, so was rare the opportunity they had of spending free time outside the city.

City. Carvahall wasn't a village anymore. The heroism of its people caused curiosity throughout the land and migration was inevitable. Eragon would never recognize his hometown anymore. But he would feel at home, however, if he arrived at his old farm, rebuilt exactly as Roran remembered. And that's why the fairth she gave to Eragon painted his family sitting in front of his old home, exactly as Eragon would remember it too.

Inside the castle, they met Katrina and their daughter Ismira. She was almost a copy of her mother, the same red curls and sparkling eyes, in the frame of a girl in her first decade of life. Katrina was about to give birth. That was the reason Roran called for a meeting. She was in good health and the pregnancy had been as expected, not troubled at all. But Roran worried. It was not only about his wife and child, but the other women of Carvahall, who had perished in child birth. Arya had sent her healers years before to aid not only the people there, but to all corners of Alagaësia, with little to no results whatsoever. Humans were still suspicious of elves, despite their alliance during the war, and it would take the return of the Riders to begin to change that image, if it would ever change.

"You don't have to worry, Katrina. We will be here for the birth of your child." Arya spoke when the woman explained that unlike her fellow citizens, she trusted the elves to bring her child to the world without complications. They were sitting around the table at the conference hall.

"You?" Katrina was surprised by the offer. "I appreciate, your majesty, but I believe you are needed more in Ellesméra, isn't it right?"

Arya smiled gently.

"Please, Katrina. Call me by my name. And no, I'm needed more when my friends require my attention."

Arya could see how touched Katrina seemed, even Roran showed small signs of emotion, with a proud look and puffed chest, that in nothing seemed arrogant.

You make them feel important. Fírnen stated.

They are.

"Thank you, Arya." Roran said, to which she only tipped her head. "But I'd like to discuss the possibility of sending the healers to us again permanently. I wish to convince the population to take your help once more. Maybe after years since the first time and seeing that Katrina is comfortable with your spells, they realize how well intended you are and accept your aid. Please, Arya, could you consider my request? The valley doesn't have much to offer, but I'm sure we can reach an agreement to favor both of our peoples." He was apprehensive.

Avelina looked at her with expectation, certainly waiting for the moment she would be introduced as an alternative, like they had discussed before.

"I have been dwelling on it and thought of a solution, it won't require any formal agreement between us, don't worry. Of course, I do not have the authority to make this decision on my own, but Eragon himself gave his approval."

"Oh? What is it?" Roran looked excited by an alternative to his dilemma.

"Avelina is the oldest human student Rider. She is a year away from graduating and at this point she is highly efficient in healing besides all else. So, my idea is to place her here in Carvahall with the possibility to tend to the population of the valley. She can also serve as a teacher in her spare time. That last part is a test Eragon wishes to perform for when Queen Nasuada accepts the reform on the magical laws."

The expression on Roran's face was relieved to say the least. One last problem, apparently.

"I don't know how to thank you, Arya."

"I hope it works for you. It's an offering from the Order of the Riders to your valiant people." She was being most sincere.

Arya grew to admire that hardened men and women, who fought each day for their existence. If they were prejudiced against her kind, it was the result of ignorance, that she hoped Avelina would succeed in placating.

That night, she slept in the farm house. Roran had offered her the main bedroom, that was exactly where his father's old room was, but she politely refused. Instead, she lay on a much more comfortable bed than the young Eragon had growing up, but at the same spot where his used to be. She looked outside at the starry sky and knew somehow that the stars she was seeing were not the same he saw at that moment from his mountain. They were apart in distance, but could as well be apart in time.

"You should have not gone alone." Lord Däthedr paced in front of her desk.

In the very instant Arya had crossed the gardens of Tialdarí Hall in the morning after her arrival from Carvahall, Däthedr intercepted her with a grave look. She motioned for him to follow her to her study where she gave an account of her time away.

"I wasn't alone." She said calmly.

"Without your retinue. You know what I mean by that." He had a controlled expression, but she noticed he was reaching for some kind of familiarity between them, but failing in the midst of his judgmental tone.

"No, I don't know."

He smiled in a condescending manner, as if he was speaking to child.

"You went as a Rider, when the occasion was for the queen. And you offered him a solution only a Rider could, instead of working on an agreement that would be favorable to our people. Did you know they have a good production of potatoes? Great quality."

"Of course, I do. We trade with them."

The demand for a separation between her two roles was making her insane. All the little remarks between an argumentation and another were just... It surprised her that her counselor was being so direct with her about it, because the rest of them were anything but direct. Couldn't they see that she was only one?

Still, he was challenging her intelligence by implying she was oblivious to their commercial alliances.

"Yes, we do, your majesty. And this meeting with the Earl of Palancar Valley could have resulted in a much more beneficial agreement than the one we currently have. Smaller prices, better product quality. If only you could separate the Rider from the queen..."

"I'm afraid I cannot separate the two, you imagine why, I'm sure." She stood up and went to look out the window, with her back to him.

"I'm afraid as well." His tone made her turn to him again. It was concerned and almost desperate.

"Däthedr?"

He threw his hands in the air and sighed heavily.

"If you cannot be only the queen when it's required of you to do so, then you are not serving your people the way you are supposed to serve."

Arya narrowed her eyes. That bluntness would have cost him his life, if her mother was still alive.

"How dare you question my motives or my behavior?" She spat the words with haughtiness.

"Your majesty, that wasn't me talking, but the council. It was their voices, not mine."

"That's absurd. I did nothing but sacrifice myself to stand here where my ancestors stood and do what they did. Conduct our people to its glory. Or do the good lords and ladies of the council forget how in only ten years our kind is again seen throughout the land as the fair and wise people they are? How freedom made us all thrive again? Ten years, Däthedr. And there's much more to come for us, if only the council stops reprimanding me." Her voice was low and menacing, reflecting the turmoil inside.

"I don't forget, of course. Neither do they. They simply wonder who's to take credit for this achievement, the queen or the Rider." He took a defensive stance — palms raised, chin down.

"I don't understand! What is the difference?"

"The queen doesn't take orders from anybody. But how about the Rider? In the end, if you can't separate one from another, then the queen isn't really the one who's ruling, is she?"

Arya couldn't believe what her ears were hearing. Was he really implying that Eragon manipulated her? It was outrageous! She was free to make her decisions. The only Rider who had such privilege, since Eragon avoided giving her direct orders, for he respected her too much to do so. She knew of her responsibilities and Eragon trusted she would take the right decisions. A simple agreement, informal, but efficient. A scheme to manipulate her in her royal duty couldn't be this far from Eragon's intentions, since he wouldn't even listen to her tellings about her day to day like if involved her pollical affairs.

"And that is a common belief in the council?" She was so angry she heard her pulse in her ears and felt her chest move up and down from her racing breathing.

"It is, your majesty. I told you how your proximity with the Shadeslayer could be dangerous."

"Why now? Why did you wait ten years to tell me?"

"I didn't, for I had nothing to tell you. Before, it was just whispers, because the fact that we were ruled by a Rider was a reason for all to take pride, not to fear."

"No. Before they thought they could manipulate me, did they not?" If he could be direct, so could she. And he didn't even know how much she had learned from humans when the subject was bluntness. "My supporters wanted to manipulate the Head Rider and the Order through me, and my opposition wished to have me lose my way when ruling our people because I would be too distracted with my duty as a Rider. Two different ways to make me fail both my roles. Am I too far from the truth?"

Däthedr widened his eyes. Arya had caught him by surprise. Probably he thought she wouldn't figure it out by herself, but she did from the start. The insistence for her to take the crown from both sides was the first sign. She refused, for her desire to dedicate herself entirely to raising the dragons and training the Riders, but when she realized that was a rotten agenda behind her nomination for the throne from both parties, she could not turn her back to it. It was her duty to protect her people first of all, but also her parents' legacy. They worked tirelessly to maintain peace, but she feared that if another one donned the mantle of regent they would cave to the demands of a few who dreamed of domination upon others. Her opposition, though not its entirety, was very keen of the idea of the elves being superior than others, and were still bitter about losing cities and territories to the humans. For Arya, they didn't represent the Älfakyn identity. They were not true elven citizens. They were a liability.

"You read the subtleness with great attention, my queen. I'm impressed."

"I see. It's true then." She faked a perfect tranquility. "You may notice I have much to think about. So, you may leave now, Däthedr, thank you."

Apparently upset for being rushed out, the noble man bent his head but didn't leave.

"Excuse me, your majesty, but I fear this subject is far from over."

Her patience levels were terribly low at that point.

"How so?"

"I believe you did not fully understand the implications of what we are discussing."

"You underestimate me. Wasn't you who just said I read the subtleness with great attention?"

He bent his head again.

"Pardon me, but I only wish you well, my queen." His soft voice when addressing her made her skin crawl. It bothered her like nothing else, the way he used affection toward her through that two little words. It was not the right way for him to speak with her, it was too familiar.

"Then say it already. What are the implications?"

"You have been urged to take your mother's place as queen by those loyal to your family and who were strong believers of your righteousness, despite what you believe, that you have been manipulated. They are… We are on your side, for everything, except one matter. "

"Say it, Däthedr."

"If your ruling is not yours anymore, then enemies will come together like it only happened a numbered of times toward a common goal. To get the dominance back to our kind."

She's read the subtleness very well. If she didn't cut ties with the Order, or at least minimize it, then all those who were on different political ends would join forces to take the power from her. In her ruling, they had already come together at least once, when choosing her as queen. But apparently, they would do it again, to take her down from the throne. How poetic.

"My ruling will always be mine, for no one controls me, not the Head Rider, nor the council. And neither do you, Lord Däthedr. And I must remind you and whoever is having thoughts of overruling me that conspiring against your queen is treason, punishable by death."

For the third time, the lord lowered his head in submission.

"I would never conspire against you, my queen."

She took a deep breath. Arya had had enough.

"And Däthedr? Quit calling me your queen, I know you want me to fall into your graces when you do that. I don't appreciate it." He had allowed bluntness into their conversation, so she would use it freely.

His eyes darkened by her reprimand. Arya wondered if he had ever felt this offended before.

"As you wish."

"Is that all?"

"No, your majesty. There is another concern brought to me by the noble houses, which is the matter of your succession."

"A lot had happened in my absence it seems! And to think I was gone for only two days." She returned to her chair and sat back. "What about my succession? I don't expect to die so soon, or to be overthrown for that matter."

"It didn't happen in your absence, I'm only informing you due to the frank tone of our conversation. Again, there are whispers, rumors. People talk, your majesty, and this time, it comes from commoners as well."

"Go on."

"It's not about the throne, but your whole house and nobility. They fear you might have an unfit man for a mate, and it would break your royal lineage."

"Unfit? Lineage?" Her fingernails dug into her palms, almost drawing blood. "Who they consider unfit? Eragon?"

He seemed surprised that she actually named him.

"As I explained, it's just whispers, but in fact, yes. The people dislike the idea of you mating with a human man. For as important as he is, he is still unfit for you."

Arya could spit fire from all the rage inside her chest. She stood up and walked slowly toward the elf, who seemed to fear her wrath.

"And who do they consider fit for me, may I ask? Is it you, Däthedr? Are you fit for me?"

She saw him swallow a lump in his throat.

"Any lord would be fit for you, my que… your majesty." He tried his charming voice, but it cracked under her scrutiny.

She spared him a cruel smile.

"Gather the council, my lord. They are in need to be addressed properly. And spread the rumors that the queen doesn't appreciate when her private matters become public."

"I must warn you…"

"Just do it. Now!"

Arya felt an urge to tell Eragon about it, and if it weren't for their agreement, she definitely would. How curious that the very behavior her critics feared the most was the one she wanted to have. When they feared Arya and Eragon's proximity, her desire was to fly back to Fell Thindarë and enclose the distance in definitive. Or to bring him into her life, to break her lineage, a thought that hadn't crossed her mind yet until that moment. They treated her like a reckless little girl, and it only served to arise the rebellious teenager inside, defying all expectations.

Instead, she had to be this composed monarch, rational and smart. Even cunning, sometimes.

The silence inside the conference chamber was deafening and it lasted for an uncomfortable amount of time. Not a single sound could be heard, not a voice, a movement, a deeper breath, nothing.

Arya considered they had suffered her silent treatment for long enough.

"I fear we have a communication problem among us, my good lords and ladies." A well trained ear would capture the sarcasm in her speech without trouble, despite her smooth voice. "You have your opinions about me, and I have the illusion to be free in my personal affairs. It's time to solve this miscommunication once and for all."

A silver haired lady opened her mouth to speak, but was shut by a movement of Arya's index finger.

"I speak now."

Arya rested her head on the scaly surface that was Fírnen's body. They were enjoying the evening on the Crags, just the two of them, away from all the troubles, since Avelina and Runalla stayed in Carvahall to fulfill their duty.

I am proud of you, my dear. He spoke fondly inside her mind.

For what?

For standing up for yourself today. You may have made new enemies, but they all will think twice before opposing you again, old and new adversaries. I believe that was exactly what they were looking for, you imposing your limits, so they could know you wouldn't falter before an adversity.

Arya let out a heavy breath.

I'm done with trying to soothe the tension among the houses, and mainly between then and me. If they want to fight they will fight, whoever is their enemy. But if they think I will accept their meddling in my personal matters, they are severely wrong. Although, I fear you are being too optimistic. They weren't only testing my resolution.

Maybe. But again… I am proud of you. His affection poured through their mind connection.

Thank you, Fírnen. She ran her hand on his scales.

Will you tell Eragon about it?

What good will it do? He will only be angry or even feel guilty. I wish to protect him from hurt.

Fírnen turned his head to look at her and give her a wink.

It's good to hear that.

For I was the one causing him pain in the past? Is that what you want to say? Her tone was playful despite the inquisitive words.

If that's what you got from what I said…

Arya laughed a little and shook her head.

I think you're right.

Her expression was serious again as she continued.

I never wished to cause him pain, but the fact that I did nevertheless pains me deeply.

Calm yourself, my dear. Those times are gone now.

Are they? I believe I'm causing him the same amount of pain he is causing me, if not greater.

She brought her knees up and held them against her chest to try to comfort herself.

Neither one of you are to blame. What you both are feeling is a deep longing, caused by the designs of your duties, not the pain of an intentional heartbreak, like it was in the past.

Pain is pain.

The dragon raised his head to the night, sniffing the sudden cold current that blew from the east.

Fair. But doesn't it feel less straining to know that you have someone waiting for you, with open arms and no grudges toward you?

Arya couldn't help to bare a sad smile for painting the image inside her head.

It does. But it still hurts.

I know, my dear.

There's still so much time to pass until it happens again.

Less each second. The good news is… time only goes forward.