Okay, I've had a review or two that were in a way telling me Arya was cheating on Eragon. Let me tell you, that was part of the plot. It will be sort-of important to the next few chapters. N/M lemon scene ahead.

Disclaimer: meh... I don't own Inheritance. There now let's get to the interesting part.

Arya dashed through the empty black world, attempting to sense Eragon's presence. She could not find even a small trace of him. She did, however, sense Faolin. This made her feel a little sick; as she knew what she had done was something frowned upon in the elven society. Being a queen, ambassador and Dragon Rider it was definitely expected loyal to her mate. But she had not done that.

She fell to the ground on her knees, feeling nausea overwhelm her and she hung her head as far away from her knees as possible and she spewed the remains of food from her stomach. She felt someone holding her hair, grateful to find it was not Faolin or any of her family, but Brom. Wiping her mouth, she stood.

"Thank you." She said somewhat curtly, knowing Brom being here would mean he knew what had happened between her and Faolin.

Brom was turned the opposite way, looking into the darkness as if there was something there. "If you could, would you take back what you had done? Or would you keep your past lover, and leave my son behind?"

Arya shook her head. "I did not mean to do that. I did not want to, but… it was something I could not restrain. If it meant I could just see Eragon's face again… I would do anything. I would take back the indecency I have caused him; I would give up my dragon even." She knew what she said would be considered wrong in many cultures, but she was willing to give up Bhronnë. She would truly do anything to get Eragon back.

A single tear fell slowly fell from Brom's blue eye, burying itself in his stubble. "Do not say such a thing, my Arya. You will find it much more harmful than good."

Arya gasped. She felt someone grab her hand and gently squeeze it. There was no mistake that it was Eragon's. She felt a slight brush of his presence, but could not quite tell where it came from. Brom's head was held high, as he had sensed it also. "Go to him, my daughter-in-law. And repent your mistakes in this world, for they had not happened at all."

Still unsteady, Arya began to run once more into the blackness, turning her head only to see Brom dissipating into thin air.

--

Jormundur sat in the empty pavilion as the stars began to light the night. He was thinking about what he had told Nasuada, to go after Murtagh. He felt lost without her form next to his. What have I done? I sent her away to a damn traitor, that is what I have done! Yet through these feelings, he felt pity for the Dragon Rider. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the wife he had before Eragon had entered to world, feeling her hair brushing over his face as he whispered her name. "May…"

--

Murtagh gasped for breath, putting his hands on his knees. The moon was high in the sky, every star shining brightly despite his heartbroken mood. His legs collapsed under the pressure of his hands and he fell to the ground, almost completely spent. He drew upon the land for food and water and lay back in the soft grass, closing his eyes but still lay awake. Far away he could hear hoof beats, and since he was downwind of the rider he could smell her scent: sweet cinnamon, only to belong to his love.

Lost love, not love you pathetic excuse for a living being! He scolded himself. He knew that Nasuada was happy with Jormundur, so he left it this way. He took his hunting knife out and sat up, searching the ground nearby for a stone. Scowling, he sharpened the small blade with a medium-sized rock that sat in his lap. Accidentally missing the rock, he gashed his leg deeply.

Gasping for a second, he realized that the knife was now a bit too sharp. He wrenched it from his bone, cleaning the knife of his own blood. He didn't seem to pay attention to the streaming wound, finding that he would let himself bleed out if his body didn't want to stop the flow of his life as it pooled into the grass.

Feeling somewhat weak, he groped in the grass only to find a piece of bark. Dipping his knife into his wound, he coated the tip with blood and began to write a note on the paper-like material. The note was short so he was soon done writing it. Stowing away his knife, he placed Zar'roc in a shallow dip in the land and lay back again. Behind his eyelids he saw not black, but a shade of dark red. His head was pounding with the urge to live, or if it was the hoof beats he did not know.

Nasuada approached Murtagh and found his leg coated in a dark liquid. She knew by the scent it was blood, and she could see Murtagh's eyes roll back in his head behind their lids. She spoke loudly to him. "Murtagh! It is me, Nasuada! Please heal your wound; I have to talk with you."

Murtagh's lips moved, and Nasuada jumped off of her horse to listen to what he was saying. "…discuss what I saw today, I know you love him more than I... It is nice however to die in my love's presence."

If only I had learned magic! Nasuada thought there was nothing she could do for the dying man. Even if she could contact Eragon, he was too far in his world of grief to listen to her pleas. She ripped a long piece of fabric from Murtagh's breeches, wrapping it tightly around his leg and tying it in a secure knot.

She searched for his consciousness the way Du Vrangr Gata used, finding fading ruby line. Attached to it was a spike, indicating his fading connection with Thorn who he had no desire to contact. She breached the connection, screaming Thorn's name and sending him images of his dying Rider. As it turned out, Thorn was already on his way, wearily flapping his wings as his Rider died along with him.

Nasuada broke into Murtagh's fading mind just before the string disappeared so she could no longer contact him. Murtagh! What about your dragon, do you think of him as you die? Or do you just pity yourself for losing me? Longing for me to be beside you and taking your own life from the strength of it! How much of a dimwit could you be? In case you hadn't noticed, I have loved you all along!

A faint whisper reached her mind. What of Jormundur… He was too weak to form it into a question.

He and I just happened! Whenever I saw you I always fluttered on some kind of high, felt electricity between our bodies when we got close… Do not leave me and take this feeling with you. It seems you are already on your way… Goodbye, Murtagh. I will miss you.

Thinking of nothing else to help him, she knew he was beyond saving without magic. She bent, pressing her lips against his gently as raindrops began to fall. She did not feel the blood soaking into her own clothes, nor did she notice that the bleeding had finally clotted thanks to her tourniquet. All she felt was the electricity between what she thought would be her last time to be with him while he lives, the rain gently hitting her clothing and her lips against his.

This is how it should be…. Murtagh thought quietly. Thorn arrived, somewhat crashing onto the ground as he did not have the strength to land properly. He lay on his side as his great ruby eyes closed. The dragon prepared to die.

Zar'roc's name strangely undid itself on its hilt. The blade shone brightly. Nasuada broke the kiss on Murtagh to look at the blade. The light hurt her eyes, but it seemed as if it called to her, telling her what to do to save his life…

She picked up the Rider's sword, feeling its immense weight. Struggling to lift it, she dropped it onto the wound and pressed her lips to his again. A sharp pain entered Murtagh's mind. The jewel in the hilt seemed to drain of its true ruby splendor. The wound seemed to be sucking in the hue of the Rider's sword. Nasuada could feel Murtagh's presence stronger now, as if the bloodred sword was giving blood from its color. The sword's shine faded, leaving the once-ruby blade a pale red.

Suddenly Murtagh kissed her back. Joy filled her heart as she opened her mouth to his, maneuvering her tongue through his closed lips and the gap between his top and bottom row of teeth, meeting his tongue. He was surprised at the intruding of his mouth, not knowing quite what to do. Even though he was twenty-nine, he still had not kissed anyone. Soon he figured it out, however, and twisted his tongue with Nasuada's as his being filled with lust, love and the feeling of being complete.

Nasuada was on top of Murtagh without clothing before she knew it, finding he was also naked in the pouring rain. The tall grass provided cover for them as it swayed with a gentle wind. The only thing that could not be covered was their loud moans of pleasure as they increased the speed of their entourage, tongues fiercely linked and mouths open. Their lips did not touch so that the two humans could breathe as Murtagh matched Nasuada's pace by mere instinct. They slowed their pace as their movements became uncontrolled by their bodies due to the power of their bliss.

Nasuada laid next the Murtagh, panting. She had her head turned to the side, her eyes locked with the person who thought she was his soulmate. She had not bothered putting her clothing back on, content to lay in the abandoned grassland naked while the rain splattered on her and Murtagh's bodies.

Murtagh's eyes swept over his own body, then to Nasuada's. "It was your first time?"

Nasuada nodded. "As daughter of Ajihad and leader of the Varden, I was always expected to be conservative."

"I see you fulfilled your expectations. Until today." He smiled slightly; if not for the earlier incident he would have a broad one slapped on his face.

"Today I was a whore. I must apologize for that, Murtagh." She forgot why she had kissed her vassal and what point would be gotten across with it, and wanted to forget about Jormundur's lost look as she left to have her true love.

"I accept your apology." Nasuada snuggled into Murtagh's muscular body, her head on his chest.

--

Saphira breathed a small jet of flame, setting the blood in the battlefield to boiling. It evaporated into the air quickly from the heat. Bhronnë purred at his mate's sudden interest. He stood beside her, offering her to fly quietly. He was torn from his Rider's disappearance from his mind, as it made him feel alone. Saphira had told him to keep in check with his energy levels in case Arya were to regain consciousness or fall further. They stretched their velvety wings and launched themselves into the dark sky.

Eragon sat in the tent, not touching the food offered to him. Jormundur approached him, telling him he would have to but Eragon swore at him and sent him away as he removed his sword from his belt. Roran walked into the tent a half hour later, putting an arm around his cousin as he shuddered, threatening to overtake him. He was pulled into Roran's grasp as the tears started and both men stayed there. If it meant getting Eragon to detach from his mate enough to rescue the last egg then it was worth it.

I know, Murtagh and Nasuada is not the main attraction of this story. I just had so much to write about them this chapter. I appreciate reviews!