Hey guys, this is my first story, so please be nice on reviews, although CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is appreciated. I wrote this because this fact that Paolini had Nasuada's kidnapping from Eragon's point of view kind of pissed me off (although drunk Eragon/Arya was amazing :D).

Nasuada fell into a dreamless sleep, the first since her father's death. It was ironic that the first time she didn't have a nightmare in her waking dreams, her waking life became one.

Her eyes opened slightly when the flap into her tent swished. She kept her breathing measured, as if she were still asleep, and slipped her right hand, which lay just to the right of her pillow, beneath it to grasp the knife she kept hidden there.

Whoever had entered her tent now slipped almost soundlessly through it until he or she came to her small sleeping enclave.

And then a thunderous roar erupted through the camp, so loud it shook the ground. There was no use pretending to sleep after that, so she feigned grogginess and sat up.

The intruder still stood at the entrance to her bedchamber, most of him or her hidden by the flap. She pretended to be shocked by its presence and scrambled out of bed to stand in a defensive position, managing to knock over a heavy gold cup to the ground to alert her guards.

But before it could hit the ground, the cup froze and shot into the stranger's hand.

"E-eragon?" she asked, relief flooding into her. "What's going on? Why is the ground sha-"

He smiled all of a sudden, and his teeth almost glowed in the darkness. "Now what, exactly, would my baby brother be doing in your bedchamber at this hour of night?"

Her entire body went absolutely still as her mind processed what he had just said. It wasn't him. It couldn't possibly be that horrible, treacherous man that had ripped her heart out. Maybe it was just Roran? But no, Roran was out with his squadron. Her breathing became shallow and hurried and her hands began to sweat. She tightened her grip on the knife in her right hand and glanced down at it, as if she'd forgotten it was there.

"Don't touch me." She growled through her teeth. "I'm armed."

Murtagh laughed again and flicked his wrist. The knife was ripped from her grip and flew to the ground at his feet. "As am I, Lady Nightshade. And I'm afraid," he took a step forward, "that you're going to have to come with me."

"Why?" her voice broke on that single word.

"Galbatorix sent me."

"No," she couldn't stop herself. "Why did you choose to go?"

He froze and his smile disappeared, replaced by the scowl he had worn the first day she'd met him. "I didn't choose to do anything, Nasuada. Why did you choose to cut your arms to mince meat?"

She touched the tough scars on her arms. "I had no choice."

"You just answered your own question."

And then he grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her from the bed. Only then did she see the sword in his right hand and she screamed, trying with all her might to get away from him. But he just tightened his grip and dragged her across the floor to the entrance of her tent.

The ground beneath her was wet and sticky with what could only be blood, likely the blood of her guards. Tears ran down her cheeks at the thought and she shook her head, surprised at how attached she had come to those men.

She dug her hands into the sticky ground and flung the dirty muck into Murtagh's eyes. He roared in anger and released her arm, just for a second, and she was off running.

But what she saw through the flap made her freeze. The Varden was burning. Her precious city of tents was ablaze. And before her eyes jets of flame erupted from her right as Thorn came into view. That was all she saw, because Murtagh grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back.
"It's nice to know you still aren't beyond dirty tricks, your highness." He nearly spat. "But one more move like that and Thorn might just accidentally set your forest alight. Let's see your people eat when the wild game's run off."

"If you're going to kill me, do it now." She said simply, twisting her head an an uncomfortable angle to get a good look at him.

He looked genuinely surprised for a moment, until his usual scowl returned. "That isn't why I'm here."

It hit her then, and her stomach dropped like a lead weight at the thought. A prisoner of Galbatorix, she'd never survive.

Those thoughts sent her into a screaming fit and she tried to escape again, but he had a tight grip on her and even in her terror she knew better than to throw mud again.

Once they were on the outside she caught sight of two slightly shaky figures in the distance. She recognized Eragon at once. "Eragon!" she screamed.

Murtagh glanced at the figures and quickened his pace, fighting off the few soldiers that remained in the burning camp. Thorn landed with a thunderous crash only a few feet away and she screamed even louder, fighting his hold with all the strength she could muster.

"I don't want to have to do this, Nasuada!" he yelled over the roar of the flames. "But you leave me no choice!"

The last thing she saw was the hilt of his sword coming down on her head.

Once again, reviews are appreciated! And if anyone would like to request something, message me!

-Circe