Dagny: An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction.

4. The Court of Illirea

The Court of Illirea

(Arne POV)

Queen Nasuada coughed violently, her frail frame wracked by harsh shudders. One of her bevy of attendants flitted quickly to her side, but she waved the girl away irritably.

" - these actions," the queen continued hoarsely with the letter she dictated. "Are in my opinion unwise. I pray you will take my advice into account when you next find the burden of such a decision on your shoulders. My thoughts go with you on your journey north. I remain, your loving mother."

The scribe's pen scratched furiously for another moment, before he stopped and looked expectantly towards the queen's bed.

"Is it done?" She demanded, propped up by a hundred silk cushions. The scribe nodded promptly.

"Then give it here!" Queen Nasuada snapped, extending her thin hand for the pen. Her many rings slid loosely along her bony fingers. "Let me sign."

The pen and parchment were surrendered to her and she squinted at the letter. Her eyesight was failing at a dramatically increasing rate. That was to be expected, Arne was told, at her age. Time was cruel to humans.

"I can sign my own damn name!"

One attendant had been foolish enough to try to guide the monarch's hand through her signature. The girl felt the lash of the queen's tongue. Her Majesty's temper was more and more unpredictable over the past few months. The physicians ruefully informed him that it was to be expected.

Arne watched Queen Nasuada's hand shake as she tried to put her name to the letter. Her sickness sapped her strength, leaving her prone to tremors and fits of weakness. She hadn't quitted her bedchamber - truthfully, she hadn't risen from her bed - in near a month. Her once-strong body had been ravaged and she was now as skinny as any underfed street urchin. Her deeply wrinkled skin clung tightly to her fragile bones.

To Arne, these changes were superficial. He had been there at the Fall of Urubaen and he remembered the determined young woman who had assumed the throne that day. The fire in that young queen's eyes still burned in the eyes of the woman before him. Queen Nasuada's wits remained as sharp and ready as ever. She retained her grace, her noble bearing, her aura of strength and assuredness.

He often wondered if that was why Queen Nasuada preferred the company of himself and other elves more now than she had in all the years of her reign. Because she preferred being looked at as a wise and able queen, to being seen as an ailing invalid.

The letter was taken from her hands once she had signed her name.

"It will be sent to the young prince with all haste," the queen's steward promised her, as a servant took the sealed envelope and hurried to the falconry.

She nodded. "Clear the room."

She spoke so lowly, it was a moment before the order was understood. Then the attendants, servants and courtiers all filed hastily out the door, all but her steward and Arne, who remained after a sharp gesture from the queen.

Her head snapped toward him in an eerily birdlike motion. "Shur'tugal, you said the host had left Belatona?"

"They were making ready to leave when I last saw them, Your Majesty." Arne said quietly. "I would hazard that they are as far north as Dras-Leona by now."

She nodded again, her gaze distracted. "And you said Eragon has sent a Rider to my son."

"He has, Your Majesty."

"A new Rider?" The steward - Palin - asked, his concerned eyes lighting on Arne. "Untried? Perhaps, Shur'tugal, it would be better if you sent one of the Riders under your command to the prince's side."