It's been a while since I've written one of these. Coming on 5 years now. But I just finished this series and it's the third one in a row with an unsatisfactory love ending, so I'm going to create my own. As always, ratings are greatly appreciated and hopefully you enjoy this as much as I shall. I try my best to keep them from going OOC, but forgive me if I get carried away.

"Farica, please leave me to my thoughts tonight. These dealings with the dwarven rider are tedious and I would like a rest. Please send word to Jormundur, Orrin, Elva, and my guards that I need not be bothered until the light of morning. My safety will not be compromised." Nasuada sighed, leaning heavily on her desk littered with parchment.

After a look of unease, Farica bowed and took her leave with a polite, "Yes m'lady". The handmaid twirled gracefully to close the twin doors of Nasuada's study behind her.

Nasuada lay still for a moment before straightening herself and pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Her head was clouded, and she fought it as she had every day since – no. She wouldn't allow herself to think of it. To her, these thoughts… these memories… were just as important to keep contained as were her thoughts of the Varden when she was captured by Galbatorix and where she met- no. She wouldn't speak his name, even in her own mind.

The queen turned to gaze out onto the balcony of her study, taking in the rising moon breaching the top of a tower. The night was so quiet, so still, she almost felt as if her life had paused itself in appreciation of her deep melancholy, allowing the moment to draw out and cease. But it did not. Nasuada found the cloud of depression pressing on her consciousness once more, and decided the cold night air would do her much more good than her room of thoughts.

Nasuada emerged out on her balcony, taking special care to see if there was anyone within view of her. Satisfied she was alone, she slumped quite unladylike against the balcony's gilded wall. Her head leaned against the cold stone she leaned on and she signed in what she told herself was relief, but when the mist surrounding her thoughts did not clear she gave in to the feeling of loss.

She relented, allowing all of her painful memories to resurface, if only for this one vulnerable moment. Nasuada allowed his last words to her trickle through her consciousness, warming her heart but leaving an icy trail behind.

"You were the first ray of light in my life of darkness. Like a guiding star, if the time comes some day I'll find my way back to you."

"What about Thorn?" She had asked.

"Thorn is more like a child. He gave my life purpose. But you gave me something to hope for, a reason to be better." He had laughed to himself "But Thorn and I… I think we're matched when it comes to who is more mad. He is a reflection more than an illumination."

The memory faded from Nasuada's grasp along with the small smile that had lit up her visage moments before. She was left with an empty conscience, she felt alone and confined. Like an echoing water droplet in a large room, the thought resounded in her soul.

I miss him

It may have been minutes, or perhaps it was hours, but eventually Nasuada's heavy heart hardened again and she pulled herself up to face the next day. And tomorrow it would be the same.

Yet as she turned to the glass-paneled doors a feeling emanated in her heart. It was strange to her, and ridiculously she wondered if she was going mad or dying because suddenly she felt the cloud lifting from her mind. A warmness started to grow within her limbs at a soft leathery sound far off in the distance.

Nasuada turned at once to confront what she told herself might be an attacker, but happily she knew better. Or perhaps she was going mad. Yet off in the distance she convinced herself of a small red dot, and straining her eyes she prayed to herself that this figment was not of her own making. Tears formed in her eyes as she fixated on what most definitely was reality.

Murtagh upon Thorn's back, flying swiftly towards her. If this was a mirage or a trick, she allowed herself to revel in it until his feature were within eyesight. Only then did she solidify her appearance to that of the regal queen she needed her subjects to believe she was. She promised herself that until she knew the truth, she would show no emotion towards this apparition.

At last, Thorn alighted as gently as his overgrown body would allow on the overhang of the balcony. The roof creaked under his weight, and Murtagh jumped swiftly from his back to greet Nasuada. Seeing her expression grim, he hesitated.

"Nasuada." He breathed, wishing he had never left and that he could resume where he had left off, pulling her into his arms. But he had convinced himself to believe that she would find a way to live without him. And he had returned to confirm that before he decided his next path in life.

"Hello." She said formally, her chin raised but her eyes seeming to conflict with the rest of her body. Perhaps she was mad at him. Perhaps she had found someone else or grown to hate him. Of course she hated him, he told himself. "What have you come to discuss?" She questioned roughly.

The both of them reveled in the silence of the night, the only sound that of their beating hearts and the fish splashing in the fountain below, disturbed by the shuffling sounds of the dragon above them. Nasuada kept her regal demeanor, as she had learned to in every situation, but her heart was near to bursting. She wanted nothing more than to cry and leap into Murtagh's safe embrace. But she could not. She was a Queen and she has a certain responsibility to keep her emotions at bay. She couldn't indulge under any circumstances. Besides, how was she to believe this wasn't a magician's trick? How could she allow herself vulnerability when she and perhaps others knew that this was the only guise she would let her guard down around.

"Nasuada-" Without hesitation she spun to face this figment, and no longer able to control her temper the queen stomped with her left foot, demanding his attention.

"Who are you?" She spat.

The anger was clear in her eyes, and Murtagh was confused. Never have her emotions controlled her so much.

"I will have you know I will not be tricked by sorcery, and I've learned a few tricks of my own in these years past. Tell me who you are or die by my hand now." She reached into the folds of her dress for her poison-rimmed dagger.

Murtagh wrestled with what to say next, how to convey he was not an attacker. Not only did he understand, but he admired her suspicion. This woman had dealt with many and would fall for tricks from no one. He at last realized the only way to let her know he was truly who he appeared to be. He grasped her hands lightly and pulled them from her pocket, but she held her firm grip on the dagger's hilt.

Always a man of few words, Murtagh merely closed his eyes and extended his conscience towards hers. With a single shallow touch between the two minds, a spark passed between them at Nasuada's recognition. At once the dagger clattered to the balcony floor and she pressed herself against his chest, muttering profanities as she pulled him close to her, the tears falling freely now from her cheek.

"You left me all alone! I needed you, the entirety of Alagaesia resting in my hands days after my torture." She cried, her voice breaking at the final utterance. Yet the anger was mixed with so much care that Murtagh could feel it above all else.

"I'm sorry" was all he could manage to muffle into her hair before his throat contracted, and his own feeling of loss attempted to break free. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist and allowed her to work through her thoughts. As she did so he muttered his motivations, and whatever small comforts he felt he could without suggesting his feelings. She was, after all, never his to begin with.

At last, Nasuada's final hitched breath was released and she drew away. A few moments passed and they both found themselves leaning against the balcony railing, looking out over the city. It was Murtagh who broke the silence.

"How have you fared?" It was a loaded question, they were both aware. His question was so beyond what came from his mouth.

"Fine." She whispered, then cleared her throat and made the same statement with a more steady voice. "I'm sure you've heard, we're making a lot of changes."

"Oh yes, I've heard quite a bit but… what I'm really asking is about you. How are you?" he questioned, turning to capture her gaze.

Nasuada looked away uncomfortably, wanting to say the truth. That he had left her broken and unable to comprehend her feelings of abandonment and loneliness though she still had many around her whom she loved. She wanted to tell him how every day his absence made her question her own existence, and how each waking moment she wished she hadn't allowed him to leave.

Instead she said, "Much the same." As the moment drew on, Nasuada gave in, feeling her stubbornness give way to a wish for a release from all these emotions that had built inside of her for years now.

"You know… those many years ago when Galbatorix tortured me with false senses… he gave me one… about you. One that I don't think he expected me to enjoy."

Murtagh was caught unprepared and gazed at her warily out of the corner of his eyes. Had she gone mad? Galbatorix would have done nothing but harm her, he knew everything about her, what –and most of all why – did he give her pleasure with?

"You think me mad, don't you?" She laughed when she caught his expression. "Well… then I shall explain it to you." Nasuada felt her heart pounding, unable to control her emotions as she wished he would receive this information with happiness or at least not disgust. Rejection wasn't something Nasuada had ever experienced.

"I awoke in a castle. It was… beautiful. And you were there. Galbatorix must have thought I would be disgusted being… with my torturer. But I was happy. And you were…" She swallowed her pride and her paranoia "you were so handsome."

Murtagh's breath hitched and he stared in wonder at this confession, his heart compressing at difficult rates as he registered the honesty and the happiness that came from this woman. She didn't hate him at all. And he hadn't scared her with his farewell so many years ago. She continued.

"We were married. With two glorious children. I'd always wanted children you know. A woman of my people is worth naught but her offspring. What affected me the most was somehow… he captured this look in your eyes…" Nasuada indicated his expression by cautiously brushing away a stray lock of hair from his eyes. Her hands were shaking as she softly brushed along his lower jaw, intending to pull away but her flesh not willing to part from his.

With an answer to the question that had weighed heavily on his heart for years, Murtagh placed his hands on the sides of Nasuada's face and extended his neck to engulf her lips with his own. When she did not retaliate he pulled her body against his own and deepened the kiss. Her lips were so soft, so intoxicating he refused to let her go until neither of them had any breath left. When he did pull away Nasuada threaded her hands into his long hair and brought him back, tilting her head with the kiss. Murtagh's hands lingered around her waist, and he found he could wrap both arms entirely around her and press her tightly against himself. When they parted this time, Nasuada grasped his hands in each of her own and stared into his eyes.

In them Murtagh saw all the torment he had forced her through, and all that she had overcome. She was so much stronger than him. And she loved him despite everything that he was. He nuzzled into the small of her neck.

"I love you." He muttered into her hair.

With this admission Nasuada felt the cloud on her being cease to exist. She felt whole again. She admitted the same, with such a tone that she seemed to try and explain how obvious it was.

Again they met in a passionate kiss, but their bodies burned and there was no need to vocalize it. They yearned for each other, and neither knew how much time they had before reason or responsibility got in the way. Nasuada broke the kiss and grasped Murtagh's wrist, leading him hastily into the study and through a hidden door that led straight to her bed chambers.

Before the door had even swung shut they were pulling at each other's clothes. Nasuada was the first to be undressed, having only her dress to dispose of. Murtagh looked her over.

"You're so beautiful" he groaned throatily, appraising her ebony skin, and engulfing her neck and jawline with a ravenous series of kisses. Nasuada tried to no avail to detach him and remove his own clothing. When at last he relented, Murtagh picked her up swiftly and placed her on the soft bed, pulling at his shirt hastily. At last their conditions matched. Nasuada hungrily gazed over his toned body, muscled and scarred by years of hardships, and yet every one of them a reason why the man before her was so undeniably perfect. At last her eyes fell upon the parts of a man she had never seen before, and she could only wonder at the girth. Curiously she considered if that was normally that large before Murtagh climbed atop her and claimed her lips once more, his right hand propping him up and his left gently massaging Nasuada's modest breast. With a few last short kisses, Murtagh drew away in an attempt to find a better position.

In a moment of clarity he made himself respect her honor.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He muttered, only half caring.

Nasuada took pause at this question, knowing they were committing a sin. To do such before marriage was unheard of to most, though an acceptable practice among the people she was descended from. As queen, could she risk her name?

Murtagh spotted the hesitation in her eyes, and in a soft voice he uttered, "Would you marry me?"

Nasuada thought she would need more convincing, but as it was she nodded her head furiously and choked out, "Of course!" Murtagh let out a relieved chuckle before shifting his manhood towards her opening. "Do it." Nasuada gasped.

As Murtagh thrust forward in a decisive motion, Nasuada stifled a loud outcry. She had never had such a sensation of completeness. She felt happy and whole, and if anything had made her question her decisions up until this point, she had forgotten it. A dull pain resounded before she found herself begging Murtagh to continue. His hair fell forward over his eyes as he started short thrusting motions, building in momentum and speed.

At last, Murtagh reached a quick speed, his hair waving heavily as sweat beaded along his brow. Nasuada clawed at the bed sheets and wrapped her legs around Murtagh's waist to allow more pleasure to work its way through her body. She could feel his mind testing her own, and welcomed it in. As their consciousness intertwined as their bodies did, she felt a divine feeling of oneness where once she only felt loneliness. They were a single kindred spirit, enjoying the feeling of for once having stability, happiness, and sureness in itself. Where one fell short the other reciprocated, two halves of a single being. Murtagh growled in a deep tone as Nasuada muttered his name over and over. She drew him close to her, one hand tangled in his mane of hair and the other drawing crescent shapes of blood from his back as she pressed her nails into him. Suddenly, Murtagh altered his angle and Nasuada felt a sharp pang deep in her abdomen before a wave of euphoria swept over her and her hips bucked in a final effort as the orgasm washed over her. As her walls closed in around him, Murtagh reacted similarly, baring his teeth as a guttural groan came from him and he released his seed into his love. The two grasped each other firmly and ceased all motion until Murtagh collapsed to Nasuada's side with heaving breaths. She turned to rest her head on his chest, savoring in the closeness. She had wanted this for so long.

"I wish I had never left you." Murtagh admitted.

As if she didn't hear his statement, Nasuada whispered,"For once I hope that Galbatorix's vision comes true". Murtagh pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before the both of them fell into the oblivion of slumber.