Okay, the prologue's mainly an excerpt out of Eldest, but written in Eragon's point of view. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even the plot. However, I can do to the characters whatever I please… (grins maniacally)
Arya: Okay…
Eragon: Do we have to do everything she says?
Bliss: Hmmmm…should I make you two kiss now, or wait until later?
Eragon: NOW! NOW!
Arya: NOOOOOO! Eeweeweeweew…don't let him kiss me! Please, almighty ruler of the underworld! (kneels before me on her hands and knees, worshiping me)
Bliss: I suppose I can wait…
Eragon: Damn…
Arya: YES!
Prologue:
I remember that night all too well; I was foolish and naïve. That day, I had my heart torn into pieces. And yet, somewhere in the depths of my heart, I knew that it would happen. Even so, I went on.
In that secret place, I felt suddenly close to Arya, and all my passion for her sprang to the force of my mind. I was so intoxicated with the strength and vitality coursing through my veins – as well as the untangled magic that filled the forest – I ignored caution and said, "How tall the trees, how bright the stars…and how beautiful you are, O Arya Svit-kona." Under normal circumstances, I would have considered my deed the height of folly, but in that fey, madcap night, it seemed perfectly sane.
I felt her stiffen. "Eragon…"
I ignored her warning. "Arya, I'll do anything to win your hand. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. I would build a palace for you with nothing but my bare hands. I would - "
"Will you stop pursuing me? Can you promise me that?" When I hesitated, she stepped closer and said, low and gentle, "Eragon, this cannot be. You are young and I am old, and that shall never change."
"Do you feel nothing for me?"
"My feelings for you," she said, "are those of a friend and nothing more. I am grateful to you for rescuing me from Gil'ead, and I find your company pleasant. That is all…Relinquish this quest of yours – it will only bring you heartache – and find someone your own age to spend the long years with."
My eyes brimmed with tears. "How can you be so cruel?"
"I am not cruel, but kind. You and I are not meant for each other."
In desperation, he suggested, "You could give me your memories, and then I would have the same amount of experience and knowledge as you."
"It would be an abomination." Arya lifted her chin, her face grave and solemn and brushed with silver from the glimmering stars. A hint of steel entered her voice: "Hear me well, Eragon. This cannot, nor ever shall be. And until you master yourself, our friendship must cease to exist, for your emotions do nothing but distract us from our duty." She bowed to me. "Goodbye, Eragon Shadeslayer." Then she strode past and vanished into Du Weldenvarden.
Now the tears spilled down my cheeks and dropped to the moss below, where they lay unabsorbed, like pearls strewn across a blanket of emerald velvet.
That was the night I had my heart broken, and Arya never acted towards me the same again.