Author: This is my first attempt at writing for this fandom, so yay. It's nothing long, just something short and somewhat sweet, so hopefully you enjoy it.
not enough
He goes to her one night, taking the utmost care to be as quiet as possible as he descends the stairs to the Hall of the Soothsayer. His entrance into the room is almost silent and he exhales a sigh of relief before he catches sight of her. Nasuada is almost as he had left her hours ago, but her sleeps seems to bring her no peace and his heart, what is left of it anyways, aches for her.
Quietly, so as not to disturb her, he crosses the room and holds his right hand just inches from her forehead. He hesitates to touch her, knowing it will wake her without fail, so he keeps his hand at a fair distance while he softly whispers a spell in the ancient language that is meant to lessen her pain. It is only after she relaxes on the cold stone that Murtagh allows some of his own discomfort to ease away.
He doesn't plan on waking her up, and so he takes up his normal seat against the far wall as discreetly as possible, sitting there in silence as he stares at her. She is... beautiful, despite all of her wounds and the grime, he finds her utterly enchanting in a way that surprises him. She was a frequent enough visitor of his while he was trapped in Tronjheim, but he had never suspected how deep his gratitude ran until he learned of Galbatorix's plans.
Now she is here and the injustice of it all is hitting him square in the face. This is far worse than any death and with each passing day thoughts of freeing her assault him more and more. She has to be free, and that is all that he knows.
She stirs in her sleep and he sits up a little straighter, heart clenching when a soft whimper escapes Nasuada before she settles again, and he gets up from his seat. Murtagh has stayed long enough, too long if Thorn's insistent growl means anything, and so he starts toward the door, but not before making one last stop.
Her sleep looks troubled, something that troubles him, so he leans down and brushes his lips against her sweat-soaked brow in a gentle kiss.
She stirs, but he is gone.