The Dragon Rider did not move.

Nasuada stood back, head tilted to one side and her heart in her mouth, but still, he did not respond in any way.

Arya watched, too, from the bushes, her body poised as if she meant to stride into the clearing that she watched with avid eyes, but her feet stayed rooted to the grassy floor. She thought it strange that such a young man- barely above manhood- should have such an effect on her. Still, she did not question it, instead concentrating on her current predicament.

Two women, both waiting for the words that would either save or condemn them, watched as Eragon said nothing.

After several minutes- or hours, as it seemed to her- Nasuada plucked up the courage to speak. Her voice shook: Nasuada wasted no energy in trying to conceal her anxiety. "What say you, Eragon?"

The words made Arya jump, and seemed to rouse Eragon from a deep sleep. Shaking his head slightly, the Rider frowned and focused on the woman stood before him. "I'm sorry?"

"What say you?" Nasuada repeated, a slight hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

"I…" he shook his head again, like a dog who had just emerged from deep water. "I'm sorry. I can't. It would be… wrong." Concealed amongst the trees, Arya winced: that was what she had said when she had rejected Eragon by the lake on the mountain that miserable, miserable day.

Nasuada, however, frowned. "What is wrong?"

"This." Eragon gestured between the two of them, indicating that the two of them were a single entity. Nasuada's frown deepened.

"Why?"

"Because…" Eragon sighed, choosing his words very carefully. He looked her regretfully in the eye. "Because… I am immortal, Nasuada. If we were to… marry" –Nasuada fought to disguise her delight at the word- "then, soon afterwards- thirty, forty, fifty years from then- you would die. How do you think I would feel to be left alone, with an endless life ahead of me?"

Nasuada winced. "Eragon, I-"

"And then," Eragon continued as if she had not spoken. "There is the matter of duty. Galbatorix would almost definitely use our relationship against me, and how could I do my duty then?"

"Eragon, I love you!" Nasuada pleaded, tears in her eyes. She stepped forwards and took his face in her hands. Arya almost growled at the touch. Eragon prised her hands away from his face and held them in his hands gently.

"Ah, but I do not love you."

Nasuada tore her hands away from his as if she had touched something hot. She took several steps backwards in disbelief. "You… do not… love me?"

Eragon shook his head again apologetically. Nasuada retreated another few steps, and then turned. Upon walking another few steps, Nasuada paused, and Eragon was sure she teetered on the edge of speech. Then, she strode away. Eragon watched her go regretfully.

Arya, meanwhile, had recovered from her shock and from some of her anger, and was ready to emerge from her hiding place, when Eragon turned to her. For a moment, she did not understand the expression on his pain filled face. When she did, the shock that coursed through her was enough to make her stumble backwards and clutch at a nearby Beech so that she did not fall to her knees. For it was not love that haunted the young man's eyes: not shock, nor hate at the interruption.

Instead, an unspeakable apology filled the Rider's eyes.

I'm sorry, he thought, having deemed that he could not trust himself to say the words and having gained access to the Princess' mind. It would not- it could not work. He sent her several images: of Izlanazadi, and Nasuada, and, finally, himself before he had attended the Agaeti Blodhren: young, free and careless.

Then, or so it seemed to the elf among the trees, he was gone, leaving her alone to heal the hole where her heart should be.

-x-

Eragon stumbled down the hillside path, unaware of where he was going and making no effort to stop the tears that rolled down his face. Members of the Varden stared as he passed them, but he hardly noticed.

Why did I do that?

It was the right thing to do, Little One, Saphira told him gently. His pain reverberated through his voice. You did the right thing.

But it hurts, Eragon told her, closing his eyes. Several tears seeped in between his lid and his cheek.

I know. But just because something is right does not make it easy,

Without realising it, Eragon had made his way to Nienna's tent and was standing on the threshold. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he knocked upon her tent door. The fabric billowed away from his fist, making a pathetic flapping noise. Instead, feeling rather foolish, the Rider cleared his throat loudly. Moments later, a smiling Nienna had pushed aside the fabric and stood before him. Her smile faded quickly as she took in his tears, and she held out her arms to him.

In his mind, Saphira sighed and said in a resigned tone: As you wish.

Thank you.

Eragon stepped out of the bright light of the day and into Nienna's arms. As their lips met, he imagined that the elf was not Nienna, nor Nasuada, but wished that she was, instead, Arya.

The next morning

Eragon stretched. He rubbed his eyes, ridding himself of the thin layer of early morning dust that ringed his tired eyes. He frowned as he took in the light, filtered through the tent fabric: it was not green, but blue. He stretched again, still stiff. As he did, his hand encountered something smooth, warm and soft. He frowned, and stroked it again. What could it be? It very close, and moved even closer beneath his touch. Peeling off the thin sheets that covered both him and the object, the young Rider gasped.

"Good morning," Nienna purred sleepily.

AN: Sorry. Sorry it's short, and sorry I did what I did. I know it's mean… I was all set to reward you for your lovely reviews (thirty one!!!) and look how I did it!! Sorry…

This chapter (even if they don't want it) is dedicated to Musings Of A Shaken Mind, who helped me a lot with this chapter (and to the sequel- yes, there will be a sequel), and to my one hundredth (!!!) reviewer, Aragon90. Thank you for all the lovely reviews, guys. I love you ALL!!!

Love as always,

Arya xxx