This is a prequel to my other fanfiction A Moment in Eternity. You don't have to have read that one to read this, but it is encouraged that you do read it. There are connections between them. If you've read it, this is about the event that Eragon mentions in that story.

This is rated M for a reason. It is still rather safe and not descriptive, but the sex is there. It is just handled with care because I couldn't bear to avoid it or fade it out/end the chapter/page break it etc.

I hope you enjoy it! I'm probably going to have to comb for random typos and grammar errors, so sorry about those! Also thank you for the insane support and feedback I got from A Moment in Eternity, for those of you who wanted more- I hope this lives up to your expectations!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or it's characters!

A Night in Eternity

Chapter I

A Night of Celebration

Eragon was walking amongst the festivities, mead in one hand while his other wiped his brow.

It was a hot and humid summer night, the clear skies above dotted with hundreds of thousands of stars. Settled at the base of the slowly thriving town that surrounded the Rider's castle on the mountain, the Riders, elves that had chosen to move to the island and visitors celebrated before the edge of the forest. Magic hummed through the air as the people danced, drank and laughed.

The dragons, both wild and partnered, roamed throughout the glade while others took flight, soaring through the night sky, torrents of coloured fire spiralling out of their jaws while the spectators below cheered.

It had been a hundred years to the day Eragon had slain Galbatorix, a day that had ended his tyranny and the freedom of the dragons who now flourished alongside their riders and wildlings. The celebration was in honour of his victory, but mostly it celebrated the rebirth of the riders.

Saphira had surrounded herself with barrels of mead while men and women danced before her; a great emerald dragon settled beside her, Fírnen had his tongue lapping inside a barrel for his jaws were too massive to fit.

Eragon took a sip from his mug as he absentmindedly searched for Fírnen's rider amongst the dancing and drinking partiers.

He found her conversing with a couple of riders and a few of the elven spell casters that had journeyed with him to this land nearly a century ago. Her voice chimed through the night air, almost lost to the music and voices of the celebration. But not to Eragon, for Arya's voice had ingrained itself into him, and his mind was always aware of her when she spoke, singling in at the sound of her voice.

They had started the party at each other's side, for she was a dragonslayer as much as he was a kingslayer, but the demands of fellow riders and dancers had pulled them apart.

Her eyes suddenly flashed towards him, smiling, as he brewed over his mead. He lowered his drink and lifted a hand to wave, smiling as well before a crowd separated them and she was lost in the party once more.

There was a flash of red and Eragon felt someone at his side.

"And what is the Leader of the Riders doing drinking alone into the night?" came the voice of Ismira, his niece, as she settled against the wall beside Eragon.

"He is contemplating life and all its mysteries that confound him. Really important thoughts," he replied as he looked down at her, her grey eyes observing him in kind.

"Such deep thoughts for a celebration. Have you not danced with anyone, nor drank with anyone?" she replied as she sipped from her ale.

"I have danced with many women this night: Alena, Rene, Serah, Gabrielle," he listed off his fingers in thought. "Some others too…but I cannot bring myself to remember. And I drink with you now."

"Aye, you do," she grinned. "Do you wish to dance around the glade uncle?"

"Of course, Ismira." was his answer as she set down his stein with hers and brought him towards the fire.

There they danced to the fervent beats of drums, haunting echoes of flutes and a fiddle. They laughed as they spun around the fire along with the other riders and people of his new home.

"Have you thought about what I asked you?" Eragon asked as he twirled her around by her hands, her smile faltered.

"I have," she replied, her eyes downcast. "Are you sure it is the best choice? I want to do it, but people will think it is only because I am related to you."

"What they think is none of your concern Ismira. You and I both know that this is not the case," Eragon replied calmly. "I asked you and Gavlin to join the order because you are one of my best riders, one of the earliest riders who have yet to do so."

"Because I was too busy in Alagaësia," she quickly amended. "I merely wondered, you have not offered Brandon a seat on the Order and he was a rider before me."

Eragon paused, reflecting on the past hundred years of her life. After her years of training, Ismira had spent decades as a warden of Alagaësia, her attachment to the kingdom too strong to bring her to leave. She had accomplished a great many things, but had slowly pulled herself from the place after the death of her parents.

He remembered her tear stained face as she cried to him, not being able to withstand it. The deaths of Roran and Katrina had torn her apart, but she could not and would not bear watching her siblings pass into the void. Not when she remained timeless.

"I know," Eragon sighed. "And Brandon needs another century to find himself, he is far too irrational and self centred for what I need of him in the order. The Order is still new, only thirty years have passed since I first created it. I need only the best on my council."

"Perhaps you are right," she laughed, as they continued the dance. "Then both I and Gavlin accept your offer, oh Grand Master of the Dragon Rider order. We will join the Order of the Riders to better serve Alagaësia and the other known lands."

"The lands will be better for it," Eragon nodded. "Have you thought about—"

"Taking on an apprentice?" she asked, smiling. "Yes I have, it is an appealing concept but not for now. Maybe one day. Until then Gavlin and I will continue to be your eyes in Alagaësia, maybe teach a few generic classes here and there."

"I understand," he accepted as the song came to a close.

And then someone hit him in the back and Eragon turned to find a smiling Murtagh holding three mugs of mead.

"Brother, stop stepping on dear Ismira's toes and drink with me! You too Ismira!" he laughed, motioning at them with the drinks.

"Please Murtagh, Uncle Eragon is not the one who kicked me in the shin earlier. And you were not even dancing with me," Ismira stated with her voice filled with laughter.

Eragon laughed, taking the offered drink as they moved away from the dancers.

"An honest mistake, I did not grow up to these village dances." Murtagh replied, a scowl gracing his features. "Give me a waltz and I'll show you the proper way to dance."

"Perhaps later," she agreed.

"And when will you start calling me Uncle, eh?" Murtagh continued while sipping away. "You act like we are not even family."

Eragon snorted.

"I have not known you for a hundred years," was her answer. "You only joined us here less than twenty years ago."

"Does that mean I'll gain the honour in another eighty years?" Murtagh asked, prodding her side.

"If you do something to gain the honour, then maybe," said Ismira with a raised brow.

Eragon cut Murtagh off, "Peace brother, you fight a losing battle."

"I've noticed," he stated as he drank back the remains for his mug. He signalled towards the bar, "Another for you as well?"

Eragon glanced at the shallow remains of hid mead and sighed. "I suppose, the night is still young."

"It certainly is, and you can never drink enough." Murtagh responded with zest. "You as well Ismira?"

"No, not yet," she replied, looking at the two of them from above her mug. "I plan on retaining my dignity tonight."

"Well enjoy that then, although I am sure many boys regret your decision" Murtagh sighed as he received the mead, ignoring the flushed Ismira. Eragon took his newly filled mug as well. "Speaking of dignity and mead, have you had enough to dance with your pretty elf queen?"

Eragon nearly choked, spluttering and coughing over his mug. "What? No, I have not! And it is none of your business who I dance with, whether Arya or not."

Ismira looked confused, her puzzled expression drilling a hole through him.

"There is nothing between us Murtagh, we are simply friends. We have been since the beginning, which is to be expected considering our roles within the war," Eragon stressed, his heart plummeting at his words.

"If you are so sure," was Murtagh's response. "Nothing is stopping you from partnering with another female rider, and I am sure a few would be happy to accept, but you do not."

"I have not the time for such things," Eragon affirmed. "Saphira and I are too busy creating a land where our race will prosper for eternity. Searching the new lands and establishing peace and—"

"Yes Eragon, clearly you are pressed for time as the leader of the riders," Murtagh continued. "Yet you have time to ogle the elven Queen."

Eragon silently fumed over his drink. He couldn't argue with his mind muddled with drink.

Ismira who had remained silent over the entire encounter spoke then, "I think what really matters is that Eragon is happy, Murtagh. He takes pride in securing the lands in peace, it should not matter if he is married or not. I do not see you seeking out the hearts of the women riders either."

Murtagh laughed, "If he's going after elves then of course marriage will not matter. Nor do I need to seek out the hearts of anyone," he then sighed dramatically. "I just look forward to the day when I have nieces and nephews that will actually call me uncle."

"Ha ha ha," was Ismira's reply, clearly not amused.

Eragon looked to his brother and asked honestly, "You really are drunk aren't you?"

"Just a bit," was his reply as he chugged back more of the sweet drink and then whispered. "And look who wanders towards us! The Queen of Elves herself!"

Eragon nearly choked on his drink again as his head snapped towards the acknowledged direct.

And there was Arya making her way towards them, her radiant form wearing a beautiful pine green summers dress that cut off around her knees. She had abandoned those who she had been conversing with.

Finally she stopped before them, a peaceful smile set upon her face while her green eyes sparkled from the fires around them.

She had smiled a lot more since the war a century ago and Eragon found the entire act bewitching despite the decades he had to become use to it.

"Greetings Arya Dröttning," Ismira greeted.

"Hello Queen Arya," was Murtagh's own greeting.

"Ismira, Murtagh," Arya returned in kind, amused. "Eragon."

He nodded, hoping with his entire being that Arya had not been privy to their previous conversation.

"How was your journey to the island, Arya?" Ismira kindly asked. "Well I hope?"

"It was," she smiled. "Fírnen finds it an easy trip now; he very much likes this land of dragons."

Ismira laughed, "So does Gavlin, he is restless if we are gone for too long. It's hard to envision anywhere else as home."

Eragon saw Arya's face drop for a split second, and was about to reign in the conversation when Murtagh interrupted.

"Finally, a good song," he proclaimed. "Ismira, I would like to keep my promise now."

"What?" she questioned, confused.

"To show you a proper dance," he responded while grabbing her hand and dragging her away. Eragon watched as Murtagh winked from behind Arya, giving him what looked like encouragement.

Good luck!

Eragon had to restrain his hands from hiding his face.

He heard and felt Arya settling beside him, leaning upon the tree as he did.

"Murtagh looks happy here," she remarked.

"Aye, he is. I think it is because he is welcomed and accepted as the rider he should have been since the beginning." Eragon replied, looking at her with a peaceful expression. "He has dealt with the monsters placed in his mind by Galbatorix, it no longer haunts him. His time spent as a wanderer in the wild helped ease his soul."

Arya smiled, "That is good to hear. I am glad that you have family around you to keep you at peace Eragon."

"You keep me at peace too, Arya. You are my greatest friend," he stated honestly. "I am glad that you agreed to join our council and visit my home."

"I am glad as well," she agreed. "Fírnen is happy to be with Saphira again. He was restless the entire week preceding the celebration."

"Saphira too, although her mind is getting progressively muddled as the night goes on," Eragon laughed. "It would do well that you make sure Fírnen does not pick up on her habits."

Arya laughed with him before returning to her own drink and looking out at the dancing people and roaring dragons. Eragon studied her like he often found himself doing. She had not changed much over the century. Her hair was longer and held back by her glowing circlet and her clothes finer, but that was all. What had changed was the way she presented herself. She was happy, and Eragon saw it most of all. She hid little from him, free with her emotions as she had not always been.

Eragon chugged the entire contents of his glass.

He would need all the liquid courage he could get.

"Arya," his voice freeing itself from him. "Dance with me?"

She looked at him and smiled. He wondered how much she had already had to drink.

She nodded and wrapped her hand around his as they made their way to the fires.

He felt giddy and hot with her before him, one hand on her lithe waist while the other hand held her own. They twirled around the fire all while keeping eye contact, and Eragon felt flushed. Her skin was like fire and perhaps they were closer together than was socially acceptable.

"How does the magic here compare to the Agaetí Blödhren or the other celebrations? The elves and riders have been chanting and singing spells the entire night. It is rather overwhelming," said Eragon, making idle chatter to distract himself.

"It is not as potent, no," she replied, thrumming the fingers that lay on his shoulder in thought. "But our entire race sings those spells; it is not fair to compare when there are not many elves here. At least, not compared to Du Weldenvarden."

"Perhaps one day this land will thrive with magic too," he smiled. "I regret not attending the previous Agaetí Blödhren, I wish to experience it in full this time. The last time I was but a child and both you and Oromis protected me from the majority of the spells."

"The riders and dragons who attended enjoyed the celebration, it has been long since the elves and dragons celebrated their blood-oath together. Your absence was missed," Arya stated, her eyes piercing him. "Perhaps you will attend the next one."

"We will see," was his vague response. There was a sad moment shared between them as Arya search his eyes. She knew that he would not return to Alagaësia for a celebration, even with it celebrating the root of his being.

Eragon felt the regret surge throughout him.

The song ended and both he and Arya left the glade as they took to the streets of the growing town. Smaller dragons sat upon the roofs, humming and thumping their tails as the buildings shuddered beneath their bulk.

Smaller parties had broken out throughout the town as people had left the centre of festivities. They both meandered through many, taking part in them and dancing with delight.

They came upon a great crowd of dwarves and elves who sang an enchanting song. The dwarves thick and baritone with their voices as the elves sang with high enchanting sopranos and tenors along to the thumping of fists and pipes. It was beautiful and Eragon found himself clapping along with the huddle of people and riders with Arya mirroring him at his side.

Another encampment held a great many men smoking from pipes and laughing with delight at most things. Eragon found himself taking an offered pipe only to cough as the smoke invaded his lunges. He spluttered at the musky invasion as the men laughed, finding it hilarious too. Even Arya laughed at him like a chiming bell, having not choked on her own pipe.

He felt more dazed than before.

Next they came upon a circle of a cheering crowd as they watched two urgal riders wrestle and charge at each other with their horns. There were many tense moments and signs of strength until the two bucked their heads, fell apart and clapped each other on the back, laughing and roaring in delight along with their moss green and amber dragons.

They then found themselves within a tavern partaking in a drinking contest. They sat along the bar chugging back numerous mugs of dwarven mead. Some of the human youths passed out sometime after the half way mark in the race of endurance. In the end only he, Arya and a kull remained, although Eragon fell off his stool near the end as he leaned back to down the glass.

The kull ended up emptying the contents of his stomach as Arya drank the remains of the last cup of mead before her. She slammed down the glass and cheered with the rest of the bar, Eragon astonished at how well she held her liquor.

"Are you sure you are okay?" he asked as they stumbled out of the tavern.

"Yes Eragon, as fine as any. Although my mind feels like a whirlwind of madness." she admitted. "Everything is warm though."

Eragon merely looked at her is amazement, "You are amazing, you know that? I cannot believe you just out-drank a kull!"

Arya laughed, "he was a young cub of a kull though. His horns were not that big."

Eragon merely guffawed at the sight of her and her explanations.

She placed her hand on his cheek, "but thank you for the compliment."

After participating in many more dances and songs they found themselves at the top of the Rider's castle and entering Eragon's private quarters while laughing and giggling about needless yet important things.

The study was lit by the blue flames flickering from the fireplace, giving the room an eerie blue glow. Arya looked around with wonder as she spun around laughing.

"Is this where you spend your time Eragon?" she asked as she looked out the through the giant window that was an entire wall. "I recognize the shelves and chair from when we converse through mirrors."

"Aye, it is," was his response. "It is also where I conduct my private meetings and teach my students, although I have none at the moment."

"It is very nice," she stated.

"Let me show you something nicer," he laughed as he took her hand and led her through a door.

Behind it was a grand cavern so tall and wide that made them seem small in comparison. The top of the cavern broke off of the mountain while the floor continued out towards the sky as something that Saphira could launch herself off of.

It was Saphira's cave and place of rest. Despite how large she had grown over the past century, she barely took up a small quarter of the space. Eragon had made it so it would hold her for the centuries to come.

It was filled with heated stones and charts and maps. Despite being in the thick of the summer season, the top of the mountain was still cold as a fresh winter day. The heated stones helped keep it habitable though. A stone staircase leading up the back wall to a door that Eragon's sleeping quarters and the rest of his tower.

Arya let out a sound of astonishment.

"I've seen this place through Fírnen's eyes, and now with mine it is truly a sight to behold." She exclaimed.

Eragon chuckled, "I keep forgetting you have never been up here. We usually take our visits through the town and castle, but never here."

She laughed in response as she walked towards the cavern's cliff edge.

Eragon shambled after her, concentrating with all his effort to remain upright. His thoughts were so muddled by drink and magic that he felt sluggish and hot everywhere.

Finally he stood beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder as he watched her look out at the scene before them.

Below them the towers and castle spiralled up towards them, the town alive with fires and party goers just beyond. The giant forest framed the civilization and then beyond that a great sea could be seen, stretching out towards the moonlit and star studded sky.

They could hear the cheers and singing from even up here.

"The world is surely a beautiful place," she whispered, gazing out at the wonder before them.

"It is, but it is also filled with beautiful people," he whispered beside her. Her eyes darted towards him and they stood like that for a long time.

Suddenly Eragon felt the need to share more, his thoughts a frenzy of excitement.

"Remember back to the war when I discovered the earth was round?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, not breaking eye contact while she crossed her arms against the cool wind.

"It seems so obvious now, like the earth has left clues that no one ever noticed. Simple things," he continued, the words all streaming out of his mouth. He had yet to share his discoveries with Arya despite their numerous encounters since she first visited the home of dragons forty years previous.

"How so?" she trilled with interest, her voice like music in his befuddled mind.

"There are two reasons I have found thus far and I am sure that there are many more," he began. "The first was an understandable miss, I have never lived near the sea," he gestured toward the scene before them. "It is still a concept to get use too, but the sight has led to many things. When a ship departs into the distance, what happens?"

"I have only seen one ship depart," she whispered and a flood of emotions flowed through them at the mention of the event. "It disappears."

"Yes, but how it disappears is the answer," he continued. "If you watch a ship sail out towards the horizon, it will appear to vanish bottom first."

Arya's eyes sparkled as she made a sound of understanding, "It does such because it is descending upon a slope, like watching one walk down a hill."

"Exactly," he murmured as he watched her realization wash over her slowly. She shook her head.

"It is so hard to think of when my mind is filled with magic and all that wine and mead," she sighed as she grasped her head with a hand. "What is the other reason?"

Eragon blanked for a moment as he racked his mind for the answer. It was something that he thought of often, but he was intoxication with Arya and everything else from the night.

"Ahhh," he sighed and then laughed. "I remember other one, it is a hard concept to explain, I will have to show you."

He lit his left hand on fire, channelling the light so it radiated light. He then raised his right hand in a fist outward and lined them up. His fist glowed blue from the light and fire that engulfed the other.

"Now, this hand," he motioned his left and fire filled hand. "Is the sun. And this other is the moon, a full moon."

Arya nodded, "The sun then also lights up the up moon and not just our days."

"Yes, they pass around us and take turns in our sky. They are like opposites and it is safe to say that we are between them," Eragon explained. "Now make a fist and place your hand between mine, in front of the light's rays."

Arya did so, her shoulder and side of her body touching his as she placed her hand between his. She gasped as her hand blocked the light from his right one and then proceeded to adjust her own hand left and right.

"It is the cycle of the moons," she whispered. She looked up to the real moon which was a crescent. "The darkness that covers the moon every night except when it is full...it is our shadow."

"Yes," he answered as he lowered his hands.

"The earth is round," she continued in awe. "Eragon, you must show this to me again when our minds are clear. I will not remember this otherwise. Promise me."

Eragon smiled as he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I promise you Arya."

She smiled and a great bout of wind howled against the mountain, loosing snow and ice from its cap. The flurry blew at them and they retreated deeper into the cavern laughing and took refuge near a heated stone.

It did nothing for Eragon, his body already on fire and his ears thudded in tune to his heart beat.

They stood there hutched over and laughing at each other in mirth and reasons Eragon knew not. Their fit of giggles made tears come to his eyes and he took the moment to stare at Arya like he had never seen her before.

Lights popped through his vision, causing her to radiate like his own personal star. Her smile and laughter chained him to her like never before. Her eyes were like the forest and her skin like the moon itself. Her hair was soft and silky as it tumbled down around her.

He was truly smitten and in love with her. Even after a century, his feelings had only grown and expanded. It was never ending.

"You've got snow in your hair," he whispered as he placed his fingers upon her, watching the snow melt as his fingers touched her hair.

She laughed lightly as she reflected his actions and dusted off his hair, "You do as well."

When she was done her hand captured Eragon's roaming hand to her cheek and held it there. She shuddered as their eyes seemed to lock and they stood there, time's passing irrelevant to the both of them.

And then it was like the world snapped and had gone mad.

Her lips were like fire against his as she rushed forward, leaving no room between them.

His arms ensnared her and held her to him, her arms doing the same. He felt confusion as they continued their mad frenzy. Arya had cared for him for many years, perhaps even a century and she was aware of his own feelings for her. There had been embraces and kissed cheeks, brows and hands, but never this. Never this passion and she had admitted nothing.

Eragon felt the reason slip from him, his clouded mind forbidding the thought. He knew it was the same for her. He heard her gasp as he bit her neck and clutched him harder still. He lost his mind and gave into the passion and instinct that he had been holding back for a century and the entire night.

They crashed against the stone wall, their noises and breathing echoing throughout the cavern, their bodies highlighted in the darkness by the moon, stars and stones of fire.

He hoisted her up against the wall as they continued, her legs circled around his waist like a vice, her dress bunched at her thighs as they madly kissed and touched each other.

The thudding in his ears became deafening as she moaned into his ear, his face buried in her hair as he kissed her neck. All he smelled was pine and the musky scent of a forest's morning dew.

Every sensation and feeling was heightened, everything was loud. Everything seemed like fire and smelled like pine, like her. He saw darkness, redness and her along with the white lights from before. He was entranced by everything about her and he could not stop.

She was not close enough.

He could not have her enough.

Nothing was enough.

And so they kept going, their bodies moving against the cavern wall until they both cried out and fell to the floor. Everything went dark and he was blind to everything and all reasoning except that she was here and with him.

And then his mind completely faded and he was lost to the world.

AN: Hope that was somewhat enjoyable. Murtagh and Ismira are fun to write (although they don't always act like that, Murtagh was pretty drunk by that point).

Most of them were OOC, but I get to blame the alcohol. I don't even know how they drank that much. And yes, they got high too. From that laughing crowd with pipes...the smoking pipes had some fun things in them! ;)

Oh! And to those of you who wanted an ending to my previous fic, there is a sequel that takes form as a comic on my devpage. Check that out via my profile. It's called The Adventures of Kevan and Merrik.

Look forward to Chapter 2!

~Eliza