(A/N) Welcome readers, to my first ever FanFic. Obviously this is an Inheritance Fic, set just after the Battle of the Burning Plains. I'll be sticking to the general plot of the book, but of course there will be some changes. Namely, ExA. MxN endgame maybe, if I get that far, which I hope to do. If anyone recognizes the title, let me know in a review what it's from. I'll be very impressed. I got the idea for this story from it, and though the scene that the idea for the story started from won't come for a while, you'll know it when you see it. And, I've rambled enough, probably, so atra du evarínya ono varda and enjoy.

Arya was starting to worry. The Battle of the Burning Plains had been won, and still there was no sign of Eragon or Saphira. She had, of course, attempted to contact the two of them with her mind, but she had not even been able to find their minds. Because of this, she was in Nasuada's tent, holding council with the rulers from each race.

"We give them another half hour, if they are not back by then, I want you to search for them Arya," Nasuada asked.

"Aye, I am worried for our Rider," Orik said, worry etched on his features.

"Of course my Lady, I will go searching if he does not return," Arya replied, her emotionless mask upon her face as always. Truthfully, she was worried too, Eragon had been a valuable friend in the past.

Another half hour passed, and Arya began to wonder if something terrible had happened to the Rider or his Dragon. She set out from the Varden camp, heading in the direction that she had last seen Eragon and Saphira flying.

Eventually she reached a large plateau, and as she climbed, she swore she could smell the coppery scent of blood. She dismissed it however, assuming the wind had blown it from the battlefield about a league away. Finally she reached the top, and what she saw nearly ripped her heart out.

There, laying in what Arya assumed was a pool of his own blood, Arya saw Eragon. She could see the many small cuts and scrapes that covered his body. Her eyes then caught on the large slash wound in Eragon's side, and she realized that this may be one wound the Rider would not come back from. Next to him lay Saphira, who, although in poor shape, was in a better condition than her Rider. Desperately, she reached out her conscious to the minds of Eragon and Saphira. Both were alive, but Eragon's life hung on a small thread. Saphira appeared to be just unconscious, and Arya entered her mind with but one thought on her mind, Eragon must live.

"Saphira! Saphira, please, you must awaken! Your Rider, he is dying, and I fear that I cannot save him. Please! Saphira!"

Arya felt Saphira's conscious stir, and then the Sapphire Dragoness awoke.

"What has happened, the last thing I remember great pain radiating from my Rider." Here Saphira noticed Arya, and then her Rider. "Arya, what happened?"

"I know not, but I know that if we do not get Eragon to Angela very soon, he will die, and with him the hopes of the Varden and Alagaësia."

"Do not speak of my Rider's life as though he is but a means to an end little elf. Now, put him on my back and I will fly my fastest back to the Varden and Angela. My Rider must survive."

"Of course, I will meet you back at the Varden as quick as I can," Arya said, placing the unconscious Eragon onto Saphira as gently as possible.

As soon as the straps of the saddle were tightened around Eragon, Saphira gave a mighty leap into the sky and flew at max speed towards the Varden. Arya, recognizing that Eragon was in safe hands, began to look around the plateau, looking for any sign as to what occurred during the fight with the Red Rider, whom she knew from Saphira was Murtagh, formerly thought dead when he was kidnapped from the Varden by the Twins in Farthen Dûr. Arya did not see Zar'roc anywhere nearby, and wondered if Murtagh had stolen it from Eragon after severely wounding him. There was not much to see on the plateau, other than a large pool of Eragon's blood, so Arya began the relatively short run back to the Varden.

Arriving back at the Varden, Arya searched for where Angela had set up her tent. Finding it in the far back corner of the Varden, Arya was suprised to find two of Nasuada's own guard, the Nighthawks, outside the entrance. She walked up, expecting the guards to allow her, as she was ambassador to the elves. The guards, however, had a different idea. As she approached, they barred their lances together, blocking entry to the tent.

"Arya, ambassador to the elves, I am here to see the Rider."

"I am sorry Ambassador, but we cannot allow entry to this tent, Nasuada's orders."

Knowing that if Nasuada had ordered that none may enter the witch's tent, she would not be getting past the Nighthawks, Arya resigned to return to her tent. She knew that when there was news of Eragon's condition. When dinner had passed, and Arya had heard naught from anyone, Arya went to seek out Nasuada. Reaching Nasuada's tent, Arya was announced by the ever-present six Nighthawks, and granted entry by Nasuada. She entered, immediately noticing Nasuada's state of disarray.

"Through your state, I assume you know no more than I do about the condition of our Rider."

"I do not, I know only that he was taken to Angela, and that she said she would do her best to save him. She requested that none may be allowed to enter her tent, and I granted her request, placing two of my guard to stop the entrance of any and all."

"Yes, I had discovered that when they barred entry from me."

"Tell me, Arya, do you have any idea of what occurred when Eragon went to fight the Red Rider," asked Nasuada?

"I do not, only that the Red Rider dealt him a grievous wound in the side when they met in a duel of blades atop the plateau," replied Arya, "Saphira did not give details in her haste to save her Rider."

"Of course, I am sure she was in quite a hurry to reach the Varden and Angela."

"That she was..."

Just then, Angela burst into the tent, the Nighthawks trailing her, obviously worried that she was, for some reason, attempting to harm their Lady.

"Would you tell these mad soldiers that I do not mean to harm you, Nasuada," Angela said, obviously annoyed that the Nighthawks would attempt to deny her access to the tent.

"Nanik, Angela means me no harm, you and your guard may return to your posts outside the tent."

"Of course, my lady," replied Nanik, tonight's Dwarven captain of the Nighthawks.

Angela, obviously impatient with the guards, began delivering her news as the last Urgal slipped out of the tent, "Nasuada, I have very important news regarding the fate of our dearest Rider."

"I assumed as much Angela, what is the news?"

"I have healed most of the Shadeslayer's wounds, barring the largest, of which I have cleansed and bandaged. This wound rejects all types of healing that I have attempted. This concerns me much, as the wound is grievous enough to still kill him, and as of now I am unsure of whether he will survive."

"Do you know why the wound does not heal," Arya asked, rejoining the conversation.

"If I knew why it would not heal, would I not be able to heal it, dear princess."

"I was just asking..."

"Of course, but if you people would learn to think before you speak, conversations would be much easier. I sometimes wonder if I should become more like Solembum, and speak to very few. Ah, but where would be the fun in that."

"Angela! You were imparting news of Eragon," Nasuada stated, obviously beginning to lose her patience with the witch.

"Of course, Nasuada. As I said, I have healed as many wounds as I can, but this slash on his side worries me. I will do my best to keep the Shadeslayer alive, but at this moment, I make no promises of his survival.

"Of course Angela, I thank you for your continued service to the Varden, your help is most appreciated," said Nasuada, regaining her composure.

With this statement, Angela left the tent, presumably returning to her tent to continue her work with Eragon.

"Arya, I doubt we will learn more tonight, you may return to your tent, I will contact you if news arises."

"Of course Nasuada, I will return to my tent for the night."

"Goodbye Arya, may the stars watch over you."

"And you Nasuada."

Upon reaching her tent, Arya drew a bath, wishing to remove the sights and scents of war from her body. During her bath, she began to wonder what the Varden, and she, would do if Eragon were to die from this wound. For the Varden, she realized that they would have to return to hiding, and continue to annoy the Empire with small raids until they could find hope in stealing the green egg and hatching another dragon and Rider to fight the Black King. She, however, could not imagine her life again without Eragon as a part of it. "Snap out of it Arya, you know that you could survive just fine without Eragon, you had done it for 100 years before, what does he matter in your life," she thought to herself. A little voice in the back of her head told her that she was lying to herself though, nagging that Eragon meant much more to her than she would ever consciously admit. She ignored the voice though, choosing to believe that Eragon was no more than a friend.

Finished with her bath, Arya whispered the words to dry herself with magic, and put on her sleeping clothes, a pair of white, light felt pants and an overly large shirt. Climbing into her bed, Arya attempted to fall asleep. Sleep evaded her though, and she was unsure why. Arya normally had no issues entering the dream state that elves consider sleep, though she was often plagued by nightmares when in it. Tonight, however, sleep, even a fitful one, evaded her grasp. Eragon's fate reentered her mind, and once again she denied that he was more important to her than any other, such as Nasuada. A good friend, but nothing more. Eventually, the strains of the day caught up to Arya, and her body gave in to her tiredness, and she slept.

Tonight, however, Arya was not plagued by nightmares of her torture in Gil'ead. Tonight, she was plagued by nightmares of Eragon's death. First came a nightmare in which she was present at his battle with Murtagh. She could do naught to save him after Murtagh slashed open his side with Eragon's own sword Zar'roc. She held him in her arms as the life left his eyes and his body went limp. The scene then shifted to her tent, in which she was standing with Angela, and Angela was describing how the Rider had died that night in her tent as she tried to save his life. Once again, the scene shifted to what Arya assumed was the citadel in Urû'baen. In this nightmare, she was greeted by the Black King dealing Eragon a fatal wound in his heart, right next to his heart. As in the first scene, she was unable to save him and held him in her arms as he died.

At the end of her final nightmare, Arya awoke to her own voice yelling out his name. She was drenched from cold sweats and her own thrashing.

"Told you he means something to you," the snide little voice in the back of her head said. This time, however, Arya gave more thought to what the voice said. Did Eragon mean more to her than just a good friendship?

"Of course he does," the voice again, "Did I not just prove that to you." Arya tried once more to sleep, but it evaded her as much as it had the first time. Eventually, she decided that she would not be getting anymore sleep that night. Putting on her shoes, Arya went in search of the Sapphire Dragoness, though she was unsure why she did so.

"She understands how you feel, she is as worried about her Rider as you are, and you know it," the voice spoke again. Arya ignored it, but continued her search for Saphira, unsure of whether she would be near Eragon's tent or staying close to him at Angela's tent. Guessing that Saphira would want to stay near her Rider, Arya set out for Angela's tent.

Upon her arrival, Arya was indeed greeted by the sight of the large dragon sleeping next to Angela's tent. At her near silent footsteps, Saphira's head raised.

"Ah, it is you little princess. What is it that you require," asked Saphira.

"I require naught Saphira, but I could not sleep tonight, so I went for a walk."

"Angela's tent seems rather out of the way for a late night walk, little princess."

"It was a... long walk."

"I can sense your trouble, little princess. What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong Saphira, I merely could not sleep."

"Do not lie to me elf, else I will pin you to the ground and force the answers out of you. Do not think I won't."

"Truthfully Saphira, I do not know what is troubling me. Normally I can sleep with no problems, but tonight even when I got to sleep, I was plagued by nightmares of... Never mind."

"Nightmares of what, little princess?"

"It is nothing Saphira."

"Do not make me force the answers out of you elf," Saphira said, growling deep in her chest and showing her teeth.

"I had nightmares of Eragon's death. Are you happy now, O Great Saphira," Arya said with a bit of malice in her tone.

"Oh little princess, you harbor more feelings towards my Rider than you let on, don't you?"

"Of course not, I am friends with Eragon, nothing more," Arya stated defensively.

"Oh but you do, I think you harbor more feelings than even you realize."

"Saphira ,stop with these absurdities. You know they are not true."

"On the contrary little princess, I am almost positive that they are true."

"I think I shall return to my tent, good night Saphira."

"Goodnight, little elf."

At this, Arya returned to her tent, all the while trying to discount what Saphira had said in her mind. She could not possibly love Eragon, could she. The mere thought of his death had given her terrible nightmares, and she had awoken screaming for him. But no, what she felt for the young Rider was not love, it felt nothing like that which she had felt for Fäolin. She was in love with him, and her feelings for Eragon were different, so how could it be love. Fäolin was dead though, and she was able to continue relatively unscathed, and she rarely, if ever had nightmares of his death. She had now arrived in her tent, kicking off her shoes as she walked towards her bed again. As she laid in bed, she realized her feelings for Eragon were stronger than what she ever felt for Fäolin, and maybe what she felt for him was not love. She was saddened by his death, but not immensely so. If love was the giving of one's soul to another, should she not have been devastated by Fäolin's death, not merely saddened for a very short period of her 100 year life. When her father had died, her mother had not stopped grieving for him, and likely never would. Is that not what love should be like, never forgetting the one you loved. With this thought, Arya realized that what she had considered love before was not love. She had it backwards, what she felt for Fäolin was what she thought she felt for Eragon, nothing but deep friendship.

Eragon though, Eragon, she loved him with all her soul.

"Told you so," the snide little voice remarked again. And with this realization, Arya slept for the rest of the night with not a single nightmare, of Eragon or otherwise.

(A/N) I don't know when I'll upload again, but I hope it's soon. Thanks for reading, atra du evarínya ono varda and I'll see you next time. Also, I wrote this all in one sitting and at 11 p.m. I hope the grammar is okay, but feel free to let me know if it isn't.