A/N Why do I even bother with these notes?

Chapter 4: She Spoke In Petals, Long Ago

Murtagh came upon his brother in the formal gardens belonging to the castle. He was fairly sure the only reason the gardens existed was because Morzan wouldn't allow himself to be bested by anyone, especially in the Forsworn, and that included the landscape design section. Morzan… didn't hate beauty, exactly, but it had to have some sort of practicality about it, which was why he spent little to no time here. It was also possibly the reason for the obsessive symmetry- despite this, the elegant fountains, smart pathways, neat hedges, arching trees, and spreading flowers (all adhering to a rigid colour scheme) had provided a much-needed and much-appreciated haven for the two brothers since Selena's death eleven years ago.

Eragon was in one of the more secluded spots, underneath a live oak, gently stroking the dark purple bloom of a calla lily. Murtagh could hear him muttering to himself- or perhaps not to himself, as the lily seemed to acquire a soft sheen to it. Eragon proceeded to do the same to each blossom, then stepped backwards to find the silver eyes of his brother on him. The younger only smiled in response to the other's questioning gaze, then slipped past him and back to the castle.

He grew up too fast, Murtagh thought, though perhaps that was for the better.

"What are you doing out here, Master Murtagh?" inquired an older gardener with calm brown eyes. Murtagh greeted him, and also offered up a small smile.

"Just admiring the flowers."

"Oh? And which is your favourite?"

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine," challenged Murtagh. Morzan was away in the city, and he was in a good mood.

"I do like the morning glories, particularly the white moonflowers. They remind me of a past lover."

Stolen moments at night, hidden behind a hedge wishing for the dawn to never come, 'Selene' whispered low under an arch of night-blooms, wreaths of moonvine on her head and in his drawers.

"Then again, the flowers of the laurel tree are also pretty."

Pretending they lived in a faerietale and not reality, she declaring him the winner of the competition and of her heart like in the stories, crowns of laurel on his head and in his drawers.

"And the antirrhinum, particularly in blue, were the favourites of a dead friend."

'Pitiful' she rumbled, 'not true dragons at all', petals blowing in the winds under her wings, him trying to set them on her head and she shaking them off, 'you would look better in them, little one'.

Murtagh looked down at the paving beneath his feet. "You have lost many."

"I have, though I do not like the word 'lost'. I have not cast them by the roadside; our paths have just diverged. I am sure we will meet again soon." The 'if not, I am not sure what I will do' was left unsaid but not unheard. They shared a glance. "I have answered my question, now, Master Murtagh, will you not answer yours?"

The younger's eyes raked across the gardens, skimming across the moonflowers and laurels and snapdragons, to alight on the calla lily bush.

Later that night, alone in his room, returned from a sparring session with his tutor to find a box on his bed, the dark wood smooth and polished, the silver clasps oiled. Inside, a dark purple blossom on black velvet, next to a scroll tied with black ribbon. A yearly tradition falling a few days after Eragon's birthday. The writing on the scroll says something- it is not a memory, only Murtagh had any of those, Eragon was too young- but it is beautiful nonetheless.

Calla lily, it says,

Deep as a chasm

There is no escape from the dark depths of loss

Or the ache of emptiness

But if I am free to remain

Trapped in your embrace

Soft, I think

I think and never know

(Like I will never know you

But always think of your smile)

Then why would I want liberty?

Freedom is endless possibilities

But with you there is only safety

Warmth

Love

In absence

Viewed in the cold light of the moon

I imagine where there is nothing to be had

My rogue thoughts turned to memory

Finding comfort where there is none

Deep as a chasm

In absence

Calla lily

And it is true, for a mother should be there to dry their tears and soothe their pain, but she was always gone. She tried to leave and she succeeded, succeeded in escape, and Murtagh wants to escape as well but he can't, he can't, he can't )

No, for all its beauty, shimmering where Eragon's magic had left its signature, Murtagh could never love the calla lily.

He thought back to the few walks he and Eragon had been allowed on, the path winding through the forest, revealing the jewels of nature buried deep in the Spine. His memory gaze flicked over the foxgloves, the bluebells, the lavender-

He smiled.

"The rose," he told the brown-eyed gardener. "Somethings draws me to it, I don't know what. Maybe it is its thorns."

A/N So.

Hi.

It's short, I know, I'm sorry. It was actually going to be very different, but I thought of the ending and it fit so well, and then Brom asked to be mentioned and Selena was all 'oh but he'll turn up later I might not let me in too' so

Yes

Saphira the First came too!

Did you like it? Do you mind me rambling?

…sorry.

Anyway, huge, huge, thanks to all reviewers, you make my day and I love you all and I'm so so sorry that I never update I just

Yeah

But A Call for Help My Family is nearly finished so maybe I'll get on to doing more with this? Maybe?

Probably not.

Thanks again!

Bjartislingr

(P.S extra hugs for VanyaNoldo22)