Chapter 1, Nasuada

'Nasuada wishes your presence, Shadeslayer.'

It was not a request; it was an order. Eragon sighed as he staggered towards the tent pitched on the fringes of the Burning Plains. Behind him, vents dug deep into the earth, burning deposits of sulphur releasing toxic fumes into the air. Since the battle, survivors of both armies had done their best to evacuate.

Eragon did not. Elves themselves had an innate resistance to all poisons, whether they came as liquids or through the air. While he would sicken given enough time, it would take years of living on the Plains for it. But his mind wasn't as well equipped; every blink, and he saw the face of a man with Zar'roc imbedded in his heart, or screaming in Saphira's fire.

But most of all, he saw Thorn, wings casting deep shadows that blotted out the sun. And the warrior atop his back, the warrior with a hand-and-a-half sword, whom he had fought and lost to. Murtagh Morzansson took his heritage, from the younger brother to the elder.

The Rider still could not come to terms with it. Morzansson. Eragon Morzansson, son of the Forsworn. Oromis knew... Brom knew... even fucking Ajihad probably knew. And they kept it hidden from him, why? Because they were afraid he would betray them if he knew? Now that the truth came by the man who held a sword to his throat, it struck him all the more harder.

He had already spoken to Nasuada once after the battle, revealing to her what Murtagh revealed to him. She had listened calmly and patiently, before giving him permission to leave and drown his sorrows in a bottle of wine.

Still, this was a time when he cursed the half-elf he had become. Elves themselves were resistant to alcohol's effects; three bottles of wine, and nothing save the mildest headache. The messenger had arrived just when he began work on a fourth, intending to drink until either the Varden's entire supply was gone or he was unconscious, whichever came first.

Six Nighthawks stepped in front of him; Nasuada's personal guard, oaths sworn to give their lives for her. Upon seeing who the apparent intruder was, they took several steps backwards, offering frantic apologies. He staggered past them, pushing aside the tent flap.

Nasuada lay against a bed, the thick blanket exposing only what was above her bare shoulders. The leader of the Varden seemed weary, tired, as though every death she had seen in the past few hours had caught up with her. Just as it had with Eragon. He wasn't surprised to see two bottles of wine on the side of the bed, one of them drained, the other half empty.

Still, despite her lesser consumption of the alcohol, a gentle probe of her mind was enough to tell that she was drunk. Far more than him; she could barely think straight. Then she opened her eyes, and spoke.

'Eragon?'

'Yes, m'lady?' He tried to bow, but it felt as though his legs were giving way underneath; he staggered, falling onto one knee, before awkwardly pulling himself up. Nasuada laughed at the display.

'I... I can see him.'

'Who, m'lady?'

'A man... a magician... he cloaked himself, bent the light around him so we couldn't see him until it was too late. He gave me a knife in the ribs as my own met his heart. It... it isn't like watching it from outside the battlefield. I watched him panic, I watched the life leave his eyes...'

'You took a knife to the ribs? Is that why you're like this? Didn't anyone heal you?'

'He... killed the Nighthawk magicians... first... couldn't get patched until after the battle.'

'But I spoke to you, directly after.'

'His name was Aaron. Not the assassin... the man who healed me. Or tried to. The knife was poisoned, it took all his power to keep me standing. He says I'll recover, but it could take weeks like this.'

He took several steps forward; Nasuada tried to protest, but he ignored it. 'Where did he stab you?' Eragon asked.

He recieved no response, so Eragon pulled off the blanket. What he saw surprised him; Nasuada wore almost nothing save for a bra and a pair of undergarments. Without letting the tanner examine the woman's breasts directly, it was unlikely that a bra would be a good size, and this was most certainly not. It was small, small enough to hug her dark skin and expose the slightest hint of a nipple.

'Enjoying the sight?' Nasuada smiled.

Eragon started to mumble apologies as he looked to the wound on her side. The bandages themselves were soaked red; no wonder she was this weak, the fool healer failed in stitching the wound!

'This is going to hurt,' he told her, before gently pulling them off, one by one. She suppressed a moan of pain with each, until the wound was bare. Finally, Eragon whispered several spells to first clean the wound, remove dirt and grime from it, then to close it. The drain on his energy didn't impact him; he could feel most of it coming from an unconscious Saphira, who, he guessed, had consumed several barrels of ale.

Nasuada looked to where the wound once was, the relief evident in her expression.

'The spells I placed should neutralize the poison, m'lady,' Eragon spoke, trying to avert his eyes from her frame.

'Stop calling me 'your lady'. The dragon riders of old lived apart from kings and queens; I am not your superior, nor are you mine. The oath you swore didn't bind you to only calling me 'your lady.' My name is Nasuada.'

'A-a-apologies, m'la- Nasuada,' he continued to say, trying to leave the tent.

'Then again, if you insist on referring to me as your superior, 'm'lady' commands you to stay in the tent.'

Eragon stopped moving towards the exit; to remain was one thing, but to defy her orders was another. Most certainly a terrible career move, he thought.

Still, the meditation Oromis had forced on him did something right; though it took his effort, he found he could resist looking upon Nasuada's suggestive frame. What he couldn't suppress was an erection, the sight of her still fresh in her mind.

'Look at me, Eragon. Don't keep acting scared and nervous. Look. At. Me.'

She was drunk, that was evident; but at that, another snatch of Eragon's self control faded. She had pulled the blanket off entirely, before holding her head up with both arms, lying on her stomach with her feet directly above her rear. It took all Eragon's will to avoid tearing off the Varden leader's remaining clothing.

'My first time was nine years ago, with a man,' she began to say, hiccuping halfway through the sentence. 'I was fourteen, he was only three days my senior. The grandson of one of my father's advisors. I welcomed him into my bed out of curiosity.

'When father found out, he was furious. Nine years later, and I'm still laughing at how he reacted. He couldn't exectute the boy, or even exile him; his grandfather held too much influence for that. It was just something he had to bear with.'

She turned to Eragon. 'Eragon... is there something wrong with me? I'm drinking and laughing a few hours after I sent thousands to their deaths.'

He felt compelled to place a hand on her shoulder. 'Nasuada, there's nothing wrong with you. You have a right to be happy. To enjoy yourself.' He found his eye still devouring her curves, lingering over her moderately sized breasts, on her thick thighs, over every exposed scrap of her body. He blinked, hoping she hadn't noticed.

'But what about you, Eragon... I heard what my messenger said. Four bottles of wine, you want to kill yourself. And don't say your part elf, don't tell me that makes it acceptable. You want to punish yourself, and for what? For what your father did?'

Eragon looked to the ground. 'Yes.'

What happened next surprised them both; she slapped him. The palm of her hand met with his jaw, almost knocking him to the ground. He saw the blow coming at the last moment, and tried to throw a spell in order to lessen it, something that proved ineffective. He staggered for a moment before finding his balance.

'I don't want to hear you say that again, Eragon. If you even think its your fault, what you've done outweighs Morzan's sins a thousandfold.' She softened her voice before continuing. 'Please, Eragon, if you won't stop this behaviour for yourself, do it for me.'

He didn't know what provoked him into it, but Eragon placed a hand on Nasuada's back. He drew her in for a kiss, and was pleasantly surprised when the dark skinned beauty gave no resistance. His lips locked around hers for five, ten, fifteen seconds. At the end of it all he pulled back.

'M'lady... I'm... apologies... I should be going...'

'No,' she said, 'stay with me.'

With that she pulled him in, her tongue entering his mouth, clinging to his frame. It was at this intimacy that Eragon's erection was known to her, as a small poking sensation to her groin. Pulling away for a second, she looked down upon it and smiled.

'Well, it looks like someone down there wants to play. But first, Eragon, we don't want to be disturbed.'

Eragon understood, and focused for the briefest of moments, before uttering words under his breath. The spell took effect; to anyone outside, the tent was silent as the grave.

Now Nasuada placed both hands on the collars of Eragon's shirt, and began to pull it off. He obliged, before she set a hand to his trousers and began to push down. The leader of the Varden was pleasantly surprised to find no undergarments on him, leaving his erection open to the world.

'So, you want to play, little guy? I can't leave you out of this, can I?'

So saying, Nasuada knelt down on one knee, before placing her warm right hand on Eragon's dick. She began to rub along his six inches, setting a slow pace to it. Her left hand went for his ballsack, squeezing it ever so slightly and electing a moan out of Eragon.

'N...n...Nasuada... are you sure... you want to... do this?' Eragon asked between moans.

'I am more than sure, Eragon. There's never been anything I've wanted more.'

Eragon's response was cut out of him as her tongue tapped his cockhead. She began to lick around it, before taking his ballsack in her mouth. Her tongue then went from the sack along the back of his dick once more to its tip. With each of these movements, Eragon moaned, self control forgotten.

Now she took him in her mouth, teasing him with first a single inch before withdrawing. He went back in, this time pushing up against her face. Nasuada took him in; all six inches went down her thoat. It appeared she had done this before. Now he was deep enough for his ballsack to be pressing up against her chin.

He felt himself about to come, and tensed; Nasuada felt it, and withdrew. He reached over to her head, trying to pull her closer, but she pulled back.

'Nope, I'm not finished with you just yet. You know what, I'm ashamed of this little guy, about to go all in without giving me any pleasure in return. But then again, I'm not quite cruel enough to leave you blue balled.' She smirked and took several steps back, lying on the bed.

In a way, Nasuada was proud of herself. As far as she could tell, Eragon had gained elfish stamina along with strength and reflex, and it only took her three minutes to bring him to the verge of release. Some of the Varden prostitutes would take half an hour to get that far with a normal man.

Eragon didn't waste time, and took control. He ripped off her undergarments with a single hand, before doing the same to her bra. He took a few seconds to savour the sight of her.

'Well, my rider, tired already? I've just gotten started.'

Eragon took this as a challenge, slamming into her pussy, before pulling out almost completely. Each time he did this it came as a moan from each; a grunt from Eragon, a prayer from Nasuada. It took four minutes of this before she began to shudder, before screaming his name. Still Eragon did not stop; when he felt he was close to release, he muttered a few words to delay it. Each thrust set a fast pace for the next one to follow.

'Fucking... Eragon... what does it take to get you to come already?' she moaned between thrusts.

'A lot, m'lady,' he replied, smirking.

'Then I think I should speed it up, don't you?'

She clenched her thighs together, holding his cock in, before thrusting up and down in rhythm to his. Now Eragon didn't even bother with spells, launching his seed into her womb. He almost shouted, but kept his voice level. 'NASUADA!'

He collapsed onto the bed, his head directly between her breasts. Now Nasuada spoke.

'Eragon, come to me more often. I didn't realize how much I needed this... but thank you. Whenever you want me, just come to me. But for now, the Nighthawks will be getting suspicious. Put your clothes back on, I will visit you tonight.'

AU: Vote for future pairings. State whether they should be love, lust or rape. Additional details if you find them necessary.