The Inheritance Trilogy belongs to Christopher Paolini.

"You may go now, Eragon," she said, sighing sadly. Eragon seemed to mistake the sigh for a yawn, and smiled.

"Have a good rest, lady Nasuada. I do apologize for the trouble my brother caused you and the Varden. If I had known…" He was cut off by Nasuada's comforting words.

"Stop it, Eragon. None of us could have stopped Murtagh. You said he told you he was forced to serve Galbatorix. Even he could not stand against those tortures, sadly." Eragon bowed clumsily and took his leave. Nasuada smiled as he left. As dear a friend as Eragon was to her, he reminded her too much of Murtagh. She had winced at the name as she spoke to Eragon, feeling glad that it was too dark for him to see.

Nasuada had never thought that anyone's name could be more evil than Galbatorix. A name should not invoke fear. A name should simply give one something different. Yet saying the name of the son of Morzan sent pain in her heart and throughout her body.

Yet his name had always set off a reaction in her. She had heard from her father one fateful day that the son of Morzan was locked in a room, alone with books. Being curious, she decided to pay this man a visit. Nasuada had expected to see a man with a cruel glint in his eyes. She had expected him to be scowling and the room to be destroyed. She expected to find a need to use her sword. Maybe it all would have been easier if that was the case.

What she found was a boy with brown hair. His eyes were a warm brown, but his expressions were serious. He looked only a little older than Eragon and was tall. He was reading a scroll on the plush rug and everything was in perfect condition. He was handsome – not even Nasuada could deny that fact.

"Hello, daughter of Aijhad," the son of Morzan said. Nasuada was taken off-guard. First of all, she did not even say that she was the daughter of Aijhad. She wondered how the son of Morzan had made that assumption. Second, he had a pleasant voice. It was not the rough sound that an Urgal made or the gravelly tone of a dwarf. Instead, she heard nobility and pain. The son of Morzan laughed.

"You look much like your father and that jeweled dagger on your waist would not be worn by a woman of no nobility. My name is Murtagh. What is yours, may I ask, my lady?"

"I am Nasuada, daughter of Aijhad as you have guessed correctly. What do you do here in this little room?"

"Not much, my lady. You are my first visitor to this room and I have spent the rest of my time reading. Even the son of an evil overlord may have some 'noble' interests. I find these poems by Dóndar quite fascinating." Nasuada could not prevent the smile that was on her face. Murtagh smiled back at her as she felt something in her do a flip. It felt like she was sick, but she somehow knew it was a good feeling. What was this odd thing that had just occurred around this son of a monster? She had to figure it out.

"I must go now. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Murtagh." She felt her insides swirl again.

"Goodbye, my lady. Tell Eragon to visit me sometime. That boy is like a brother to me." Nasuada had left quickly and not noticed the smile on his face as she ran out of the room.

It was only now that she realized how ironic that last sentence of his was. The two of them were so similar; yet so different in their own ways that it seemed odd she had not considered the thought they may be brothers before. As she tossed and turned in her attempts to sleep and escape the memories, she could not forget the feeling his lips had felt on her hand. She knew it now. She had loved him.

A/N: Romance is not my best genre, but I felt there was not enough Murtagh/Nasuada fics out there. Tell me what you think!