A/N: Hey guys! It's Tuesday! Or what ever day it is now that your reading this. But now it's Tuesday, update day! And I have an update ready that I worked super duper hard on, because I fell behind like three days, and I wasn't even in my house able to waste time in front of a computer, typing out meaningless stuff. Anyway, again, the story has only advanced, like, two minutes because it's a flashback. I'm not really sure if I already told this part of the story before, because I have the weird feeling I already have, but if I did, screw that, this is as good as it's gonna get. Also about the flashback, it's not really Nasuada remembering in the flashback; it's more like the entire recount, because it felt really important to include Murtagh's POV too, so I apologize for the jumping-around-ness. And I'm not really sure if Brom knew about Murtagh, so correct me if I'm wrong. Enough from me.

Chapter 15!

Training with Murtagh was proving to be overwhelmingly tedious. Nothing was happening. Though Nasuada did have a quick laugh when the magnificent red dragon swerved abruptly swerved, knocking his droning rider off balance, and, for a moment, seeing him flailing around before he caught himself.

Thorn's flight patterns were revealing themselves as nervous and erratic. Nervous, erratic and rambunctious. Nasuada had been subjected to vertigo numerous times already.

She sighed – something she had been doing a lot lately, it seemed. The clouds had finally cleared after five hours in the sky, but it did nothing to reduce the heat. Murtagh's nose was sunburn- reddened, and the glare from Thorn's scales was almost unbearable.

Yet, the red rider still seemed full of magic rules and spell usage scenarios.

"Never use absolutes; they could be the end of you."

Nasuada half wished she actually knew what an absolute was. "This would all be very helpful, if I could actually use magic," the bored young lady retorted. Every time she had asked Murtagh for a demonstration, or if she was going to have a go herself, the snappy response was, "We'll get to that."

"I'm sure you can," Murtagh insisted. "Now for your first exercise.

Finally.

"Try to break into my mind. But first, what are the three principles to wearing a magician's defenses down?"

Nasuada blinked. That had been pushed at her four hours ago, at the beginning of Murtagh's lecture.

The young red rider rolled his eyes and repeated the rules. Nasuada was sure she wouldn't be able to recall them at a later date.

"Will you not be able to block me?" she asked cynically, "I'd bet you could prevent Galbatorix from breaking you mind if you had to."

Murtagh smiled, accepting the compliment. "I'll go easy. Now go!"

After pushing a strand of hair out of her face, Nasuada concentrated with all her might, despite the still-muggy air whistling through her ears, and her temptation to look downward.

To her, if was as if Murtagh had barricaded his mind with a brick wall. Her mind was like the battering ram the Varden had used to overtake Feinster; the rider's mind was weakening with every blow.

Murtagh obviously could have redoubled his efforts, but Nasuada was doing extremely well, he thought. Extremely well. It was obvious in her composure and the way she sat rigid-backed in the saddle that was pouring all of her strength into the task, but her expression remained porcelain-perfect, and the only evidence of her struggle was a bead of sweat rolling down her nose.

Eventually, Nasuada broke Murtagh's mind.

Before she had a chance to be disappointed by the stretch of time it had taken her to accomplish her endeavor, Murtagh projected the words, "Well done," into her mind.

And they sent cold shivers down her spine.

She'd felt so close to Murtagh for that that one moment. She understood the amazing bond between dragon and rider. Eragon had been right (for once); there was no other way to describe it: Touching another's mind was like rubbing a bear facet of one's soul on theirs.

Nasuada had always been inexplicably trusting and honest towards Murtagh. Now she knew why; she and Murtagh were alike in ways she never could have even imagined. She could relate to him a different level than she could with anyone else.

"I knew you could do it!" Murtagh exclaimed, grinning. Nasuada averted her eyes from his gleeful expression.

He patted her shoulder. "Let's move on."

Nasuada just shook her head, feeling withdrawn. After a few minutes, she asked, "How is it, that you still seem the same as when I first met you in you. In your cell in Farthen Dûr, remember?"

The rider was caught off guard by the sudden turn the conversation was taking. He remembered…

The door cell door swung open, and Murtagh was startled into consciousness.

"What do you want?" he asked groggily, scowling through the semi-darkness. The only light was coming through the door, which still stood ajar, since Murtagh had put out the lamps for It was impossible to tell what time it was in the city mountain without being able to judge from noon. But the noon-time sun was having difficulty penetrating the windowless cell.

"Are you here to execute me?"

To Murtagh's intense surprise, a light laugh tinkled through the air.

"On the contrary," a feminine voice said. Feminine. Perhaps they weren't going to execute him. "The Varden is beyond relieved to have you here."

One of the lights flipped on, revealing a girl of Ajihad's complexion, about seventeen or eighteen, beautiful and alive in her youth.

"Of course the Varden is glad to have me," said Murtagh bitterly, only momentarily distracted by the girl's bearing. She was tall, graceful and the way she carried herself around the room, busily flicking lamps on, would have put even the finest lady of Galbatorix' court to shame. Murtagh had seen her; she was something to marvel, but a hog in comparison to this girl. "Now they know I can't be wreaking havoc in some other part of Alagaësia."

The young lady's smile faltered. He spoke the truth. "I am Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad," she said, evading the subject. She had no intention of making the prisoner angry, partially because her father would have her head if word ever go to him, and partially because, if he really was who all the guards said he was before the had extremely reluctantly granted her entry to the cell, she did not know what he might do to her. He was Morzan's son. Supposedly. But for whatever reason, she was almost sure that this young man had no intention of harming her. He kept a hard façade, but he was still young and sweet at heart.

"Are you really-?"

"Morzan's son?" the prisoner interrupted with a grim smile. "Ask your father; apparently we bear- er, bore- a striking resemblance."

"I've heard stories about Morzan," said Nasuada, "Brom knew he had a son. He knew about the horrible things he did to you, Murtagh. Was he really as bad a Brom said, or were Brom's memories poisoned by his hatred for Morzan?"

"He was worse when no one else was around," Murtagh admitted in a strained voice, summoning painful childhood memories. "Did Brom know about the-?"

"Slash he gave you with Zar'roc? You must have a horrendous scar from that experience. Perhaps our healer can help. May I... See it?" She spoke hesitantly.

Murtagh lifted his tunic, exposing his back. His scar was gnarled and twisted, as always. Nasuada ran her cool fingers over it, speechless.

"I can't imagine," she whispered. "And so young..." She turned away.

One of the guards banged on the door. "My lady?"

Nasuada curtsied. "You'll be safe here. I promise. It was nice meeting you, Murtagh."

She swept out of the room like a princess.

"I remember. Am I really the same?" Murtagh stared down at the far-below earth.

"It seems so to me..."

Thanks for reading! I was REALLY happy with the reviewers this week! I think I got nine. It was AWESOME. In all seriousness, I scream "YES!" every single time I see one of those emails. No joke. And it makes me so happy when someone is like 'I've been following your story since chapter one and it so awesome!' Or something like that even though you've never reviewed. Because the only way I know if you like my story is if you review, so just REVIEW, if you get nothing else out of this rambling. :)

-Seastar97