Last chapter: Nasuada took a step toward the rider, freezing both him and the elf in the bushes in shock. The woman before him looked up at him, no longer nervous, with the steel spark of determination in her eyes. "I love you, Eragon," she whispered.

And then she kissed him.

For a few moments, Eragon was completely motionless. His eyes were closed. Nasuada stepped back and watched him with worried eyes. Arya, still concealed in the bush, had turned away: she could not watch. What if he kissed her back? The elf did not think she could have stayed where she was, silent, if that was the case. No, she would sit this out hidden behind the trees.

In the clearing, Eragon slowly opened his heavy-lidded eyes and stared at the leader of the Varden. Nasuada's dark skin barely concealed her blush, but met his gaze with determined eyes. This scene was so reminiscent of the one not too long ago on the mountainside between Arya and Eragon that Eragon had to smile ruefully. Nasuada's heart leapt. He smiles, she observed the riders face carefully. That must be good. So, tentatively, she stood on her toes again and pressed her lips to his.

"No," Eragon murmured half-heartedly. Nasuada silenced him with another kiss. This time, he pulled away completely, pushing her away with gentle hands. Nasuada blinked owlishly at him. "No," he repeated.

"Why not?" Nasuada demanded childishly, taking his hand. That, too, he gently tugged from her hands.

"This is wrong."

Arya, watching anxiously from her leafy hiding place, winced: that was exactly what she had told Eragon after he had kissed her on the mountainside. The words that had torn out her heart to say…

"What is?" Nasuada frowned. She couldn't have done anything wrong… could she?

"This. Us."

"How so?" The woman demanded: now that she was being rebuked (no matter how gently) her soft, emotional voice had transformed into the businesslike, firm one she normally reserved for business meetings or discussions with Jormundur. The only sign that her heart was breaking was in her slightly wet, desperate eyes.

"Look at us, Nasuada. I am not mortal," he insisted calmly. "If I were to accept you, and we were to… marry"- Nasuada hid the light in her eyes at that word extremely well, Eragon thought- "then I would outlive you by far. It would not be kind."

"I do not care. Eragon! I love you."

"Ah, but thereon lies our problem." Eragon smiled sadly. "I do not love you."

For a moment, Nasuada almost forgot to maintain her strict, emotionless composure: Eragon winced internally as she gasped in pain and shock, and her eyes screamed out the sudden breaking of her heart. I know how you feel, he murmured. But the lapse was only for a moment, and then the mask was back. It was if it had never gone.

"You don't?"

"No."

The leader of the Varden nodded slowly. "Then I have nothing more to say to you."

Eragon and Arya watched as she turned on her heel and left- Arya, with glee, Eragon with pity and regret. "I'm sorry," Eragon called out to the empty air. "It would not work."

Arya frowned. But Nasuada is g- Arya gasped. He means me, she realised in horror. She was pinned to the ground, unable to move, as the love of his life strode out into the snow with his handsome head bowed. Then, she fell to the ground and wept.

"Nienna?" Eragon stumbled through the camp blindly, asking anyone he saw. "Have you seen Nienna?"

Most shook their heads (some small children giggled at his seemingly drunken state, but Eragon did not care). However, it was Angela who- yet again- pointed him in the right direction. Try the sparring ring, she told him in a slightly bored mental voice. Eragon did not bother to thank her as he turned on his heel and ran to the sparring ring flat out.

When he reached it, he skidded to a halt at the gat and scanned the ground in front of him. He sighed in relief when he spotted Nienna, dueling fiercely with Blodhgarm. As she spotted him, she allowed him a small smile.

Why didn't that smile do the same things to him that Arya's did?

Eragon did not understand: she was as pretty- or maybe more- than Arya, and younger, and more open and happy to have human company. She was, in many ways, better than her senior.

So why on earth couldn't he love her?

It doesn't matter, Eragon decided. I just don't want to be alone.

You are not alone, Saphira reminded him. Eragon answered with pure, unspoken gratitude, which she fiercely acknowledged. Whatever you feel you have to do, she told him- if a little warily- I will support you.

Thank you.

"Eragon?"

Nienna's voice was like music to Eragon's confused ears. He turned in search of her voice, and smiled softly as his eyes were rewarded with her beautiful- confused, but beautiful- face.

"Nienna," he smiled, moving forwards as she did so that they met in the middle. Summoning new found courage, the rider took her hands, pulling her closer to him: the brief look of surprise on Nienna's face was soon exchanged with an equally brief- and a little odd- expression of triumph, that Eragon barely caught before it was again changed to a look of warmth, and happiness. Saphira was worried by the slight look of triumph and debated it in her mind, but Eragon swatted her away. He was vaguely aware of the stares that they were attracting, but he ignored them. Nothing mattered but Arya.

Nienna, Saphira prompted him quietly. You mean to say 'Nienna'.

Yes, I did, Eragon snapped. Saphira fell silent.

And as the lips of the elf and the rider touched, Eragon had to admit that she had caught him out: nothing mattered but Arya. So as they kissed, he tried to convince himself that the woman in his arms were the one he loved. Not Nienna. Not Nasuada. Arya.

AN: I'm sorry it's so crap, but… hey. I did my best. It's my birthday, by the way. This chapter is for whoever invented Converse, because man, they are AWESOME. I got two new pairs- one with the Union Jack and the "Who" logo on, and another that are black, like Doctor Who's. AWESOME.