Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. All rights go to Christopher Paolini.

He remembered when he had first met her. She was not from their world. She had actually gotten there from a place she called 'America'. He hadn't known where that was. But she had described her world for him, and he had described his for her. Though that had been unnecessary in the end.

She had told him how there was no magic in her world, or elves, dwarves, Urgals, werecats or dragons. They relied on technology to survive. They did not use swords, shields and spears to survive. Instead they used something called a gun, that could kill things instantly. They had other weapons too, but she had refused to describe them. She said she did not want what happened in her world to happen here.

She had said that though the technology helped them, it was harmful to nature. She said they had lots of pollution, and Alagaesia was much more beautiful. As far as Vanir understood, technology was like a substitute for magic. They could do many of the same things, though technology harmed the land and air. She had loved nature, and hated anyone or anything that harmed it. She had been perfect.

He remembered how he had not liked her at first. He had noticed that she was rather beautiful, but that hadn't appealed to him before.

He had thought she had a rude attitude, and too much of a positive outlook on the world. She had always been impatient to get things done. Her favorite flower was the rose. She said it symbolized love in her country. Vanir had not understood that. Why did a flower express an emotion? And the first time he heard her say that, he had laughed, for it didn't quite match up.

She had no training in self-defense, but once when some men had tried to touch her, she had knocked them out with a nearby frying pan. Everyone present had been shocked and amused. She, a young, immature teenager had found a place in everyone's hearts.

She was always quick to use her surroundings to her advantage, and had a strategic mind and a way with words. She could twist people into doing her a favor, as she called it. She was dangerous, but she always helped the less fortunate. Many times, Vanir had succumbed to her. She had been perfect.

She had many opinions on love. Many young men had broken her heart. She had not wanted to talk about it, but once she got close to Vanir, she had told him. He had been shocked. Why would someone hurt such a lovely person? He had told her life was cruel. She had argued. She was alone, hungry, and tired, yet she had argued with the only person who could have helped her. Vanir had loved that about her. She was never afraid to speak her heart.

She had said life wasn't cruel, but the people in it. Vanir had disagreed, of course. At the time, he couldn't bear the thought of such an annoying brat winning something over him. And he had lost. He was so pathetically defeated, that he had not talked to her for three months after that. She had been upset, and he resented that fact later. He wanted to give her the best.

When he apologized, she forgave him immediately. He had been surprised. He had not thought that he should be forgiven so easily. But she had. He had been alone, lost in his thoughts and duty as ambassador of the elves, and she had brought him home. She had been perfect.

She had been horrified when she was told they could not find a way to take her back to her world. She had cried, for three hours. No one was able to comfort her. Most people understood that she had just lost her family, friends, and other people she loved. But Vanir knew. He knew first hand how it felt to lose your life in one second, and curse it for the rest of your life.

But this girl had lost more, much more. She had lost her world. She had lost everything she had been familiar with. At least when his parents had died, he was old enough to care for himself, and knew how to survive. This girl, she was but a child. She refused to be called that of course. She had always been stubborn.

He had thought she might go mad from the pain. But she didn't. She survived. And though years later, he would sometimes wake up to her crying for her old life, she stayed strong. She would always miss it, of course. She talked to him about it when she was upset. He learned many small details about her friends and family from those talks by the fireplace, which he treasured. He still hated seeing her in pain. But she had gotten over it, every single time. She had been perfect.

She had already been educated. She could read and write the common script better than most men. But she had no clue about the ancient language. Vanir had taught her, and found out she could use magic. She had learned quickly, and soon was an expert magician.

Once some men saw her reading a book, and jeered at her, telling her reading was not a girl's business, that she should go get married, perhaps to them. She had been enraged. She had called them rather descriptive language, going on and on, surprising the rest of the bar. She had continued screaming when Vanir had dragged her back to their horses. She had actually slapped him trying to get away, and not finding another way to stop her ranting, he had kissed her.

She had stopped. Of course she had. Who wouldn't if their best friend for so many years kissed them? Vanir had, in truth, loved her then. Elves were a private people, but he could not resist. He had to let her know he loved her. She had not replicated his feelings. He could tell, by the look on her face when he let go of her.

He could tell, by the sharp sting of her hand on his cheek.

He could tell, when she walked to her horse, saddled him, and rode away.

But most of all, he could tell by how he did not find her, not for 10 long, lonely years.

She came back to him on a majestic deep red dragon, ironically like that of a rose. His heart had filled with glee at the knowledge that she would live as long as he. She had been perfect.

And he had been hurt. Happy though he was, his idiotic, proud mind was hurt. She had not thought to contact him, in all those years. She been training, and now she had been a Rider in full for over 3 years. Yet she had remained silent. And he had avoided her. Two years he lost. Separated from the one he loved most.

She had confronted him soon. She had turned to him, and simply said hello. As if that could change anything. As if that could revive the time they had lost. But it had revived his old feelings for her, as well as the pain he had hid for so long.

Vanir said hello back. And left. He could see the hurt in her eyes, but he could not stop. He could not allow himself to fall in love with someone who did not love him back. The moment he entered his rooms in Farthen Dur, he had started sobbing. He loved her. How could he resist? She was the reason he took his breaths. She was the reason he had survived so long. She was the reason his dreams brought him pain each night.

He forgot to shut the door. Later, he could not have loved his mistake more. Then, he was terrified. Who had seen him like this? He turned.

There she stood. His angel. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she quickly walked towards him on light feet.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she murmured to him, as she pulled him into an intimate embrace. And he forgave her. She had been perfect.

They had remained friends. Vanir still loved her. He just hid his feelings. He remembered the first time she introduced him to her dragon. Her name, not surprisingly, was Rose. Vanir did not understand. If she wanted love so much, why did she reject it? He did not ask.

Then came his run-in with the Shade, Mifada. He had killed it. He had accomplished something for the good of his people, and he would have been content, had it not been for the gaping wound Mifada left him with. He had almost died, as his love had told him in their later years. She had taken him back on Rose when she found him. He could barely recall her yelling at him and weeping, begging him to stay alive. But he remembered that she had kissed him. Sad, that their real first kiss he was barely conscious for.

Healers had saved him. He had survived, becoming one of the rare people to live after killing a Shade. And best of all, she had understood. Understood that he loved her, unconditionally, wholly, with every fiber of his being. And she loved him back. That was the best moment. The sweetest part of their lives he would remember forever after. There had been other moments in the future. But all for one reason. She had been perfect.

Not soon after the Shade, they went out for a picnic under the stars. She had found the best spot, a clearing, not far from the hall in which they were staying. It had taken his breath away when he saw it. It was beautiful. The leaves of the trees created just the right amount of shade. The middle was open to the stars.

Vanir had brought her a rose. He had laughed again when he got it, just like when he first learned she like roses. It was a deep red, and she had been delighted. She had looked at it for a while, just holding it. Vanir remembered how the moonlight lit up her hair, as though of an angel. Then she had looked up, and said what he was least expecting. Three words, with so much meaning. "I love you." He kissed her, in a frenzy of pure love. And she kissed him back. They could forget the rest of the world when they were with each other. That was how strong their love was. And for the rest of her life, he always brought her a rose when they met.

They hadn't eaten much on the picnic. Mostly they talked, and exchanged stories. She told him of her life as a Rider after she left. He told her of his life before she came into his life. She wanted to know everything. He told her of when he met the Dragon Rider Eragon. He told her of the mistakes he made, and the stupid insults he gave both the Rider and his dragon. He would not have said normally, but she had enchanted him. When she asked why he had done so, he told her he had thought they were doomed by the injured human Rider. Then he told of how Eragon had easily defeated him after he was changed. She had been curious about how that happened. She was always curious. She had been perfect.

She had not judged him for his actions. She had never judged him. She had believed he was perfect, that everyone made mistakes and deserved a second chance. And now he wondered, if he was so perfect, why had he not been able to save her? Or her dragon, Rose?

Rose had died, dragged down into the ocean by a group of Nidhwal. Vanir had been rather close to Rose. He had even ridden her several times. He would never forget the exhilarating rush he had felt. But he was not as affected as her Rider, of course. She had weeped, as half her identity passed into the void. She could do nothing about it, she was not on Rose at the time.

Vanir had not tried to comfort her, as others did. He had not tried to tell her everything was alright. He knew it was not. Such a loss could not be fixed, but perhaps patched up with time. So even though it pained him, he had let her cry on his shoulders, simply holding her. He knew it was the best support he could give her. And she thanked him for it later on. She said she grown strong for him. The only reason she didn't go mad from the loss. She had been perfect.

Years later, he had asked her to be his mate. She had accepted. His race did not marry, but hers did, so they had a private ceremony, just them and some friends. He remembered how she looked that day. She truly was an angel, dressed completely in white, with a band of white roses holding her hair. They had been her personal touch, to symbolize their love.

He had wondered why elves did not marry. The ceremony was beautiful. He had learned to appreciate humans for the work they did with no magic. Though some of their customs still seemed strange, after fifty years of being the ambassador, he knew some were meaningful and lovely.

He remembered her smile as the ceremony was completed, the passion she had loved him with that night. And he remembered the child they had had. Almost. She had died, and they both lived pain once more. She, of her dragon, Rose, and he, of when he lost her. They had never fully recovered, and he still mourned the daughter they almost had. But she had helped him forget some of that pain. She had been perfect.

And now, he stood at her grave, with his hand on the willow tree that marked it. There were flowers surrounding the tree. She had died. And left him. Alone. But not by fault. She had died by the hand of a member of the idiotic resistance that was roaming Alagaesia. She had died defending herself. His sweet angel, who could seriously injure anyone that came within a two mile radius of her with any weapon.

This resistance would pay. He would make sure of it. He would make them suffer, for every experience his angel had missed. But there would be time for that later, right now he mourned her. As though the pain would ever leave him. As though tears would not come to his eyes from every memory of her. As though he could ever see a rose without remembering her.

Using magic, he sung runes into the bark of the willow.

Lily Reynolds

My angel

Her love of roses had always been ironic. But memorable. A tear made its way down Vanir's cheek. He remembered her soft touch, her sweet scent, her beautiful eyes, every emotion and reaction he had ever seen on her face. The only person he had ever wished to like him. The only human to walk into his life and change it so drastically. The only woman he had ever loved. And she was gone. And the elf doubted he could ever get over the pain. But that was alright. She deserved to be remembered.

Because she had been so caring.

Because she had been so brave.

Because she had been an angel.

Because she had been perfect.