Brooke: So, fun fact about the day we were shooting our little scene that the readers are going to read: Rebecca came to set dressed up as Batman. I asked, "What are you doing? There's no way Keeper's going to let you wear that," and she replied-

Rebecca: I'm Batman. :D Keeper only owns what doesn't belong to Palolini.

Ellie: His name sounds like a pasta.

Meg: Now I'm hungry.

"...Will we ever end up together? No, I think not. It's never to be thought, for I am not the one." -The Nightmare Before Christmas

"Eragon, we shouldn't be here."

"Don't use that name in public, Ellie, it could spell our doom."

"Since when did you become so melodramatic?"

"Shut up." She just snorted, quite certain that 'melodramatic' was not, nor ever was in his vocabulary—even after his ascension in rank.

They had stopped in a little town called Eastcroft, er, Eastcrop, something like that. She had never been one to pay attention to details unless it was for a game. Even so, she knew that it was not smart for a fugitive to be walking through the Empire which was at top security. If they were back home, they would've been found already.

"Ellie,"

"What do you-"

"Is that Sarah?"

Her attention was perked and she followed his gaze to a strange cat that was prancing around, apparently looking for something. "What is she doing here?" She murmured. Without thinking, she headed towards the cat and managed to cause a half-sober man to fall into the mud.

"Eh, lass, watch where yer going." He grabbed her wrist, but she pushed him away. Two friends of his shoved her into the muck.

"Hey!" Eragon pulled out a dagger and took a place in front of her to defend her. "You will not harm my sister. What she did was an accident and we apologize greatly." The cat they had seen earlier jumped into Ellie's arms as she stood, a shiver running up her spine from the mud that had slipped into places it ought not be.

"Sure ye apologize, but yer sister, 'ere, 'asn't said a word."

Ellie glared at him and replied blankly, "You have my sincerest apologies, Sir, it will not happen again."

"Ye bet it won't." As the man walked past, they pushed her once more into the mud and Eragon held her, keeping her from attacking them again.

"Ellie, we can't draw so much attention."

"Do you think I want to?" She demanded. "Next time, just let me handle it, okay? The Empire doesn't want me a fourth as much as they want you."

"But I-"

"I'm done!" She exclaimed. "Let's just get to an inn and off of the streets." She marched to the nearest place and paid for their room, locking herself in the "bathroom" with Sarah.

She filled the tub, discarded her clothing and climbed in regardless of how cold the water was. "Ellie, don't be so hotheaded. You love him-"

"Oh, can it, Zimmerman!" She shouted. "It doesn't matter how I feel, he loves Arya and I'm always going to play second fiddle!"

"Okay, I understand!" Sarah said, opening the door to exit. "Just don't get your mind wrapped around a fantasy, kiddo."

She ignored Sarah and slid deeper into the ice water, content to just have the filth washed out of her body and hair. She felt every bit of dirt and mud leave her, but when she climbed out she still felt filthy. With a sigh, she wrapped a towel around her torso and accepted the bittersweet truth—this world had become a part of her. Despite everything she told herself, how she felt about her home and her new home and how she was going to be treated in this world, she knew in her heart that she could not leave.

She only wished she had the chance to say goodbye.

There was a knock on the door, "Ellie, are you alright?"

"Go away, Eragon!"

Instead, she heard the lock turn without her consent and with inhumane strength, the door was shoved open. "Eragon, what the heck?! I...Nari?"

Sure enough, the elf who had promised her to stay in Ellesemera was standing before her...in her half-naked dilemma. "Lady Ellie, I am sorry to barge in, especially like this, but-" She could not have been happier to see him and kissed him to keep him silent.

This time, Sarah did not enjoy this.

"Baldor, don't make me show you how it's done!" Brooke called to her training fiance.

"That's what she said!" Her cousin yelled from where she was helping Roran.

"You two are dorks!" Meg called from somewhere neither could see.

Brooke laughed and returned her eyes to Baldor. She sighed, content despite the strangeness of their predicament. Or, she was content before she turned and coughed into her arm. Of course she got sick the second there was peace to be had. Whatever.

Her eyes sought out Rebecca and Roran only to find that her cousin had taken a seat beside her. "Where'd you come from?!" She exclaimed with a smile.

"Stream, you watched me come over! Well, you spaced out like it. Roran was called to Nasuada. I'll get Meg to tell me what it was about later."

"Because you can get The Heartless Lady to talk."

"I'm Batman."

Even as Roran left Nasuada's presence, Meg bore a smile. Eragon was going to marry Roran and Rebecca. She felt great happiness for her friends—then frowned. After the wedding, Roran would be sent as soldier to fight Galbatorix. A cruel fate.

Bitterly, she thought, Life's cruel.

Now, more people—elves—entered Nasuada's pavilion. Oh; these must be the sorcerers assigned to protect Eragon. "I am Blodhgarm, son of Ildrid the Beautiful," The main elf, or rather, werewolf introduced.

"I am Lady Nasuada, these are my guards, the Nighthawks and this," She gestured to Meg. "Is-"

"The Heartless Lady," He said in a slightly awe-struck, slightly know-it-all manner. "Forgive me, Lady Nasuada, but we all know of her. It is an honor to be in your presence, both of you."

"Have care with your words," Meg said, merely cocking her head slightly and maintaining a blank expression. "You may have heard of me, but hearing and knowing are two very different things, would you not agree?"

He bowed respectfully and flashed a dark smile, "Then I look forward to getting to know you."

Her face lost all former expression and she remained emotionless the entire meeting, though even when Nasuada spoken to them, Blodhgarm only had eyes for her.

That night, when Meg was authorized to take leave, her saunter was intercepted by Blodhgarm. "You never did give me a name." He said, standing in her way and making her stop.

"You never earned the right."

He raised an eyebrow, "True, I suppose knowing the name of The Wandering Lady is quite a privilege. However, I am determined. Tell me how I must earn it."

She was startled, but dared not show it. She smiled and thought back to the movie the girls had seen the day they were brought to Alagaesia. "Answer this riddle. A box without hinges, key or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid."

He stood silent for a moment and she began to walk to her tent. He followed, refusing to give up. She waited patiently for five minutes before he, flabbergasted, said, "You have managed to stump an elf, I am afraid I do not know."

She smiled as she held open the flap of the tent, "I am Lady Megara, or Lady Meg as most call me, but to you, I am only Meg."

He looked at her in confusion, "I am afraid I do not understand. I did not answer the riddle let alone answer it correctly."

"Yes, you did not solve the riddle, but you've past the test—admitting defeat. You are an elf, you do not eat meat. The answer was an egg. I knew you would not be able to answer and I wanted to know how you would accept defeat."

He nodded, smiling slowly as he accepted. She made to leave, but he called her out once more. "Lady Meg?" She rolled her eyes. She should've known he would not just call her by her nickname. "I have a question."

"Yes, and I suppose I have the answer." She replied impatiently.

"The stories depict your tale differently. Sometimes, you give up your heart from heartbreak because Eragon did not share love. Others, it was because of Murtagh or Morzan and even stranger tales say it was from Galbatorix. Which one, if I may, is true?"

She laughed quietly and asked, "Which take do you believe is true?"

He opened his mouth to question her, but seemingly thought better of it. "Murtagh. I believe you loved Murtagh."

She dared not look at him. "And so it is true. For it matters not what was true, it only matters what is believed in. Belief is stronger than truth, and thus, becomes truth. Good night, Blodhgarm, sleep well."