"Are you sure you're all right, Hal?"

Panting, breathless, Hal tried her best to talk. "Aside from the fact that you've thrown me on my back again, I'm peachy."

"You seem more distracted than usual," Murtagh commented, helping her to her feet. Almost immediately the earth began to spin and she stumbled, nearly falling back down until Murtagh quickly moved to catch her. "Careful now, take it easy," he said gently, lowering her back down.

"I'm fine."

"You're pushing yourself too hard again."

"I'm practicing."

He rolled his eyes but she ignored him. But she saw the black spots enter her vision and put her head between her legs. Her trousers and sleeveless top were sticking to her skin, her hair too. Murtagh's face was red and he was equally covered in sweat.

"I'm calling it," he declared. "It's too hot to continue."

Hal was frustrated, but it was hard to argue with her knees covering her ears. Murtagh sat down beside her, offering pieces of fruit and her water. They snacked in silence until Murtagh suddenly rose to his feet. "This is unbearable," he groaned.

Flummoxed by his sudden declaration, Hal watched as he stalked forward, pausing at the edge of the pool of water. Suddenly, he began pulling off his boots, setting them to the side before pulling his shirt up and over his head. Hal blinked, her eyes taking in how his scars seemed to glow against his tanned skin, the muscles on his shoulders and arms that had become more impressively defined these last few months. Then she felt her entire face burn even hotter when she realized she was staring, and she quickly turned her head to offer him privacy. But she heard him laugh. "I'm not that bold, Hal. Just hot. I can't stand this stifling heat sometimes."

She stared, turning slowly as he jumped in, his trousers very much still on. She frowned, confused, but unable to take her eyes off him. When he finally resurfaced, she had crept closer, unable to hide her smile. "What are you doing, rider?"

"It's like I said. I'm hot and wanted to cool off. Besides, you've earned a break Hal. We both have."

He backstroked away from her, grinning from ear to ear like a child. She had never seen him like this before. Light-hearted, yes. Teasing, of course. But playful? She shook her head. "Who are you and what have you done with Murtagh Morzansson?"

Murtagh looked disappointed. "I was hoping you would just cooperate with me." He looked behind her. "Thorn."

It took Hal a moment to realize what he meant, but it was already too late. "Don't—!" The damn dragon's tail shoved lightly against her back. Hal yelped in surprise as she tumbled into the water. She hated how almost immediately cool and refreshing it was.

When she came up for air, Murtagh was smiling. They both treaded water as Hal pushed the loose strands of hair from her face. "What's gotten into you?" she asked lightly.

Thorn suddenly crooned before taking off for the skies. Hal watched, squinting and with her hand to block the sun from her eyes. When she realized what Thorn was doing, her eyes went wide. "Murtagh, he wouldn't!"

But the rider, laughing, was already swimming towards Hal. He dragged her under water and they both swam away as Thorn hit the surface. Certainly not as hard as he could have, but they were propelled forward, tossing and turning in the waves. When the water calmed down, they both swam for the surface. When Hal came up, she was already laughing, trying not to choke on the water entering her mouth from the residual waves. Thorn floated on his back, relaxing.

Murtagh came up in front of her. "Bloody oversized lizard," he teased. "You're lucky there's still water in the pool!" Thorn huffed irritably, otherwise ignoring him.

Hal shook her head. "Seriously — what's gotten into you?"

Murtagh shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'm just in a good mood."

And suddenly, in that moment, that answer was good enough for Hal. They teased and splashed around for much of the afternoon, like children with nothing but time on their hands. It was the most freeing experience she had had in what felt like a lifetime, spending time with Murtagh and Thorn as friends, and nothing more. She did not think of training or Ra'zac or her past or her fears. She let herself completely relax, swapping rumors and gossip she and Murtagh had heard with stories from the village.

When they grew tired, they laid in the grass on the other side of the pool, drying out in the heat. Murtagh asked her about her upbringing, and Hal slowly opened up about her life on the island of Uden. They went back and forth like they often did in these matters. A story for a story. A question for a question. Murtagh spoke of his upbringing before and after his parents died. For perhaps the first time, they spoke as friends, unrestrained and without judgement.

There was a mutual respect, a quiet understanding and safe space that had grown between them since she was sick. But Hal knew she would be remiss if she did not think that moment of watching the sunrise together had almost sealed their fate. Something had changed in him afterwards, although it had been slow to reveal itself. He seemed…lighter. More relaxed. And as his guarded ways shifted slightly, it opened him up to companionship with the villagers that he hadn't quite had before. Of course, he had grown particularly close with Amon, Sam, Ayo, Eli, and Cado, and, by extension, their families as well. But when others saw how he was around them, it was as though they felt more inclined to talk and jest with him as well, pulled in by curiosity and the strange, new energy that resonated around him.

As for Hal? Well she knew it had been different for her for a while. Had felt herself draw nearer to him during the hours they spent leaning over her notes and studying magic together. She felt she had gotten to know him in a more intimate setting: one on one, with no other villagers around to distract them or interrupt. She had tried to constantly tell herself he was not staying, and yet she had gone and gotten herself attached to him anyway. She had never really had friends who were not only closer to her in age, but related to her hardships and joys on a similar scale. It was like a breath of fresh air, one she hadn't known she needed.

Lying on her stomach, Hal fiddled with a wilting dandelion, the yellow fading and brown in some places. Their clothes were already drying, her hair still damp but quickly regaining its natural, thick curl. She plucked at the dying petals as Murtagh lay with his hands under his head, staring up at the sky. "Hal, if I ask you something, will you promise not to laugh."

"It depends."

He looked over at her with a deadpanned expression on his face.

"I may laugh so I cannot make any promises."

"At least you're honest."

"I will be sure to remind you of that next time you say I'm too honest."

They shared a smile before his gaze turned upward again. "What kind of man would you say I am?"

She blinked. Then she blinked again. "I don't —" She shook her head. "Why?"

"Because I have felt oddly at peace these last few days. And the question came to me last night. If this peace meant I was the same man I was before. But does a man like me deserve to feel peace? To feel happy?"

Hal watched him curiously. So, she had been right in thinking he seemed more content than he had in the beginning. He looked at her, growing embarrassed. "I must sound ridiculous —"

"Of course, you don't," she countered quickly, not wanting doubt to set it just because she was slow to process her thoughts. "It's a very sane and rational question. I sometimes still ask myself that."

Murtagh rolled onto his side, facing her. His head was in his hand, his eyes watching her. Hal felt her face grow hot, and struggled to press forward, feeling an unspoken expectation in his gaze. Then again, his gaze, as of late, was enough to make her forget herself, even if for a moment. Especially ever since she had seen his true smile. "You are a hard man to describe," she admitted nervously.

"Just try. I have felt lost for a very long time and I want to get someone's perspective."

But why hers? Hal bit her lip, thinking carefully before responding.

"I don't know if I have the perfect answer, but rider — Murtagh," she corrected, her face growing hot as his name fell from her lips. His eyes were warm and safe. Patient. She felt her composure worsen and looked down. "All the times, you could have turned away, but you didn't. You didn't have to come here, didn't have to stay. And you did. Maybe you didn't want to, but you did. And I can't put into words how much that means to me. How happy it makes me that you and Thorn are here…"

She stumbled again, embarrassed. She didn't like sharing from the heart, but the way he was looking at her right now…he was a hard man to resist.

"Your burdens, your sins — whatever you want to call them — to me…to me, you have always been more than that. More than your father's son or Galbatorix's slave — those titles have meant very little to me. The Murtagh I see, the one I've gotten to know, he's a good man. You're a good man. All your life, you have been told otherwise and you have come to allow yourself to believe it. And good men can do bad things, for the right and wrong reasons. You are no exception nor the rule. But if peace is what you have found, do not argue its merits. Accept it, hold on to it, for as long as you possibly can. Because even for the saintly, tomorrow is not guaranteed to be as kind as today."

"Do you think there's hope for me then?"

His voice was shaking, and he cleared it uncomfortably. Hal gave him a kind smile. "If you have to ask, it means you care. And as long as you care, rider, there's always hope."

…

"Murtagh watch!"

"Murtagh, look at me!"

"Murtagh, can you do this?!"

"Murtagh may want to consider growing another pair of eyes," Hal snickered to herself. Murtagh snorted, trying to divide his attention between the screaming children accordingly. Layla sat between his legs, pressing flowers in a book. The other children were running and jumping into another pool Hal knew of in the woods, much closer to the village. With the ongoing heat wave, she had decided to take the children to cool off and the beach was too far to walk.

"Murtagh, grow another flower," Layla commanded.

"Excuse you," Hal said, narrowing her eyes.

Layla look up at Murtagh and smiled. "Pleeease."

He grinned, this time sprouting a pale pink lily from the ground. Layla giggled vivaciously as she plucked it from the ground. But then she paused and stared at it curiously. Then she turned to face Murtagh, climbing to her knees so that she could cup her hands around his ear and lean in, whispering, "Can I give this to Hal?"

Murtagh glanced over at her. She was absorbed in her sketches of Thorn. When Murtagh had questioned why she would need it despite the one he had made for her, she had simply said, "That was before. I have some more time to get my sketch just right, and I would like to challenge myself to draw him. I'll still keep yours, of course, if that's what you're worried about." Her tone had been teasing, knowing, and he had blushed, brushing off her last comment despite its accuracy.

"How about this?" she asked the dragon, moving her book over so that he could peer at the pages. When the red dragon shook his head, Hal made a face. "Now you're just being picky, it's damn-near perfect. Maybe if you stopped fidgeting—" Thorn huffed a gust of hot air at her and she shrieked in surprise, laughing. But she went back to her sketches, eventually turning to face Thorn so that she could get every detail right as she turned to a clean page.

Murtagh almost forgot why he had turned to watch Hal in the first place when Layla began to whine his name, impatiently waiting his response. He blushed, snapping back around before anyone noticed and so that he could give Layla his undivided attention. "Sure. But you don't need to ask me. And why are you whispering?"

Layla frowned as if he hadn't answered her question. Then she appeared thoughtful before stepping over his legs. She tapped Hal on the shoulder. Murtagh grinned as they both placed their hands to their heads.

"Captain Hal."

"Lieutenant Commander Warrior Princess Layla."

They saluted. Murtagh stared in disbelief. What was Hal teaching her?

"Look what Murtagh made."

Hal ooo'd and ahh'd accordingly, pulling the girl into her lap and quickly forgetting about her sketch. But Murtagh leaned back against the tree and sighed loudly, appearing lonely and forlorn. And Layla promptly jumped up and returned to him. Hal stared in open-mouthed shocked while Murtagh cackled with laughter.

"Layla!" Hal cried indignantly.

But the girl shrugged as she dropped back into his lap. "I always spend time with you Hal. I can't just leave Murtagh."

"Yes, you can! I thought we were like sisters."

"We are!" Layla said quickly. "Don't be mad, Hal. But I want to spend more time with Murtagh before he leaves."

Hal's laughter froze on her face and Murtagh's playful demeanor disappeared. Layla didn't seem to notice, humming as she returned to her flower arrangements. Hal met his gaze and gave him a weak smile, returning to her sketch.

Just like that, it was as though things had begun to shift. Suddenly Murtagh was constantly reminded that he was supposed to be getting ready to leave. Cado and Eli kept inviting him out for "one last round" of drinks and the children kept asking him to spend time with them. People began to ask what his plans were once he left and if he needed any supplies to take with him. He politely declined, although their offers humbled and surprised him.

His lessons with Hal became rather strained in a way. They barely talked unless it was about the material. She was excelling at almost everything he had set out to teach her, but he realized there was so much more for her to learn. Late at night, after she had gone to bed, he began making additional notes on a piece of parchment of other easy, yet effective spells she could continue to work on in his absence.

And despite the lack of threat to her life, he became more paranoid as his time on the island came to a close. He didn't want to completely abandon her. So, with a little over a week to spare before his departure, Murtagh decided on his final lesson.

"Scrying?" Halen questioned.

"Yes. It allows you to see people and places you've seen before. As long as you can picture it clearly in your mind, it will appear on any reflective surface, like water or a mirror, although mirrors are often preferred since the surface won't move." She nodded. So far, so good. "It also allows you to communicate with someone if you need to. So, for example, if you ever have a question for me, you can contact me and we can speak as if we were face-to-face."

Her eyes grew wide. "We would be able to keep in touch?"

He smiled. "Aye."

"How does it work?"

She caught on quickly, and he had her practice by scrying Thorn just outside. As they were beginning to wrap up their lesson, Hal asked, "When will you return?"

His shoulders slumped. "I don't intend to, Hal."

He could tell that hadn't been what she wanted to hear or even expected. "What?"

"To travel back and forth risks exposure. I don't want to get caught. Once we are free of the kingdom…I don't see much point in returning."

"Ah." Hal said in a rather clipped tone. "I suppose that…does make sense."

Murtagh watched the dip in her shoulders with confliction. He would be lying to himself if he said he would not miss her or the village. He had not expected any of this, and part of him was loathed to give it up. On the other hand, he was secretly pleased that she was upset. It was cruel, he knew. But he wasn't used to the feeling of someone missing him.

He watched her quietly as she returned to her notes, her face a mixture of concentration and distraction, her frustration building. Murtagh pulled one knee to his chest, propping his arm up. Before he lost his nerve, Murtagh blurted quietly, "Would you consider coming with me?"

Her quill slowed to a stop, but she did not look up. "Travel with you out east." It hadn't been a question, but still he answered.

"Yes."

She raised her head, trying to read his face as if expecting him to start laughing and say he was only kidding. But as soon as the words had left his mouth, he realized how serious he was. Hal was too…lively for life in a small village. She had an adventurous spirit that rivaled any Murtagh had ever seen before. He could show her things she hadn't even dreamed of. Surely…surely anyone would want that.

A slow smile spread across her face, but the sadness in her eyes was palpable. "We would certainly be the talk of the village. They would say we eloped."

"We could do it you know," Murtagh pressed, leaning forward with earnest to tuck her hair behind her ear. She inhaled sharply, her gaze never leaving his. "Travel across the sea. I could show you the Beor Mountains and the Hadarac desert. You could see cities and ports, filled with the finest silks and sweetest desserts. Wouldn't you like that?"

Her expression became pained. "Of course, I would," she said in a tight voice. "The offer feels almost too good to be true."

Murtagh's face fell. "But."

"But," she continued sadly, "you talk of never returning and I can't commit to that. To never seeing Denu again. Or the children or anyone else. At some point, I'd want to come back. I'd want to come home."

Murtagh should've anticipated that. He should've known better than to ask at all. But the pain in his chest at her words was very raw with dejection. "If I was wanting to return, even if the time in between was vast, does that mean you would have stayed…with me?"

The mood shifted and Murtagh struggled to understand just what exactly he was feeling in that moment. Hal was looking into her lap, biting her lip thoughtfully and fiddling mindlessly with her fingers. Impatient for a response, he reached out and grasped her hands in one of his own, keeping them still. Her scars smooth against his palm. She looked up in surprise, her brown eyes boring into his grey.

"Yes," she finally said, her voice breathless as if she couldn't believe it. "Yes, I would have stayed…gone," she corrected quickly, embarrassed, "with you. My response probably would've just been a packed bag and plea to leave now before we were caught."

He smiled, trying to ease her nerves a bit despite the ache building in his chest as he ran his thumb across the flesh on the inside of her wrist. "What kind of adventures do you think we would have?"

Her face gently lit up at the thought, and Murtagh felt his heart race at the sight. "You would know better than I," Hal exclaimed. "You're well-traveled and well read."

"But I want to hear your thoughts," he pushed. She was much more imaginative and creative.

She grinned. "Okay, so I had a few thoughts. Most of which involve me rescuing you out of some mortal peril because you're absolutely hopeless without me it would seem…"

For Murtagh, it was the longest, most bittersweet conversation he had had in ages. They joked about everything, from Hal having to ride Thorn to the ridiculous lies they would tell to keep Murtagh's identity a secret. She had been delighted to hear that he had once worn a fake beard to rescue Eragon. "Honestly the real one was frightening enough, no one would've guessed your identity." The assignment for the night remained forgotten on the table as they fetched themselves wine and crackers instead to aid in their storytelling. The more they drank, the more ludicrous their ideas became. But the laughter continued to flow along with their drinks, their tongues and inhibitions loose, and their bodies warm.

And the longer they talked, the more vividly the scenes began to take shape in his mind. None of the more ridiculous ones, but the simple ones. Hal walking through a port city for the first time. He could imagine the way her eyes would dart across the landscape, attempting to take in the bustling women moving from stall to stall, the men shouting their prices, bartering for cheaper goods. Her eyes would light up at the sight of something sweet, and he would be unable to resist her. And they would watch the ships come in, their fingers sticky as Hal would turn to him, asking where they would be off to next.

"Murtagh?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it true that you and Thorn will live forever?"

He was silent a moment, brought back into his reality. They were side-by-side, their backs against the wall and their legs sticking straight out. Her head was on his shoulder, and his head rested on hers. He knew the emboldened intimacy was because of the wine, and he was still cognizant enough to notice how Hal smelled gently of lavender and chamomile, two soothing scents. Her body was warm and soft where it pressed against his, even if it was nothing more than her knee brushing against his. He felt a faint, and yet not completely unpleasant, chill when she touched him. One that, every so often, made him "suddenly" need to readjust his posture so that he would press against her again, feeling it throughout his entire body.

"In a sense, yes," he answered. "Dragon riders have longer lives than most."

"Would that ever get lonely?"

His shoulders suddenly felt heavy with an unspoken burden. "It already is."

She quietly took his hand in hers. He felt his heart race before realizing it must've been the wine. But he drew comfort and strength in her hold, and he squeezed her hand tightly. "Would you get bored of me? If I traveled with you and got too old?"

He inhaled sharply, not having thought of this before. Of outliving Halen and the other villagers. Suddenly his future seemed even more bleak. But he looked down at her, not wanting her to see how upset her question had made him. "Never," he said truthfully. "Besides, I don't think you could be boring, regardless of age."

She laughed. "I would certainly like to think so." When she fell silent again, Murtagh knew something was weighing heavily on her mind by the way she ducked her head down further — as if she could feel his gaze and was already trying her best to avoid it. But before he could coax her into telling him what was wrong, she looked up and placed her chin on his shoulder. He looked back at her expectantly, studying the curves in her face as he did so. Her soft, round cheeks, and narrow nose that led to — he noticed with a faint blush — a mouth that curved just like the bow she used as her weapon of choice.

"Stay," she whispered. "Just stay."

He sighed, looking away from the pleading look in her eyes. "Hal, you know I can't —"

"No, I don't know," she argued, frustration in her voice. "I don't understand what urgent matter you have to attend to that makes you so eager to leave."

"I'm not eager," he clarified. "I'm not…I just, I need this, Hal. I don't want to keep looking over my shoulder. Once you pass the desert, the land is out of the kingdom's control because it is too far away. I want freedom and peace of mind to live my life as Murtagh. Not as the son of Morzan, or the slave to Galbatorix, or even Eragon's half-brother. I want to get my life back. This is not a slight against you or the Tenari," he added gently, cupping her face in his hand. "This is something I need to do. For me and for Thorn."

He could see that she understood, and although he was satisfied with that, it hurt. She closed her eyes against a slow wave of tears. He watched with rapt attention, the tears falling gently down her cheeks. No one had ever cried for him. His heart softened as Hal cleared her throat, sniffing and trying to regain her composure.

"I will not lie to you, rider," she muttered, trying to wipe her eyes, "I don't like this."

"I don't like it either," Murtagh said gently. He wiped a fresh tear from her eye. Then, before he lost his nerve — although much of it was all wine at this point — he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She hesitated for a few long seconds before she wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting against his chest and his heartbeat thumping under her ear.

This wasn't supposed to happen, he knew. And it wasn't fair to him that he should find another that would make saying goodbye so difficult. But Nasuada hadn't been quite the same. It hadn't been that he was eager to go, although the taste of freedom had a bitter tang then too. She had not argued that he stay, because they both knew he couldn't. Not after what he had put her though. And he would be marked for death by every creature of the land if he remained. She would have had to choose: him or the throne. And she had already made her choice clear.

He closed his eyes, still haunted by her torture. I cannot forgive, but I understand. They had parted under the best of terms considering the circumstances. And he had found ways to keep an eye on her, just to be sure she was okay. Safe. He hadn't done so in a while, but he had been otherwise preoccupied.

He looked down at the top of Hal's head. This was different. He didn't know how or why, but it was. But in the end, it was just one more thing he was fated to lose. And losing was all he knew how to do. But this time, he would not leave bitter or angry. For perhaps the first time, he would leave with hope and the knowledge that he could be accepted by others despite the things he had done.

He bowed his head. "I will miss you, Hal."

She did not trust herself to speak, her eyes burning at the unfairness of it all. But they held on to each other tightly, as though to preserve the moment for as long as possible.