Hal did not dream while she was unconscious. It was, perhaps, the most peaceful sleep she'd ever had. There was no awareness, no fleeting thoughts as to when she would wake. She merely existed, quiet and serene. At most, she would sometimes feel like there were others near her. A presence she could sense, but not quite see. Some felt more familiar than others, soft voices drifting through her mind like a passing breeze. She would try to reach for it, try to call out to it, but she couldn't. But she did not feel afraid. There was something safe about this isolated place. Something comforting about how she could finally rest.

It felt like no time had passed at all when she finally felt her mind reaching for consciousness. It was a struggle, a weight that kept pulling her back under. Nearby voices were becoming sharper, and she began to feel her body again for the first time since she'd fallen under. She could feel her fingers reach for a hand that wasn't there, feel hands on hers in return, gentle rags sliding down her bare arms and across her cheeks.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, she felt disoriented. Almost immediately, bits of her memory began to return and she felt herself overwhelmed with panic. The last thing she remembered was fighting Thea, echoes of soldiers clashing with Ra'zac, screams of terror filling the air around her…and an explosion that nearly drained the life from her body. Hal should be dead. That fleeting thought crossed her mind and she felt her breathing deepen, coming out in sharp bursts that began to make her chest ache and her mind fuzzy.

She tried to open her mouth to call for help, her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she felt the muscles in her body struggle to move. She felt like she had been paralyzed, her mind growing foggier as her panicked breathing worsened. Whimpering in fright, she soon heard a crash as something broke nearby and a shocked scream.

"Baldor! Albriech! Come quick, it's Miss Halen!"

Hal recognized Juliet's voice and put all her energy into her neck to turn her head just as the handmaiden came into view, leaning over Hal with wide eyes. "It's all right, Miss Halen. It's all right. You're safe. You're safe."

She heard a door open and rushed footsteps approach. She felt a sharp, frigid blast of air enter the room, highlighting just how warm and comfortable it was. Fortunately, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared when the door was shut again, but Hal still felt the chill for several minutes as the Horstsson brothers rushed to her bedside.

"Easy now, Miss Halen," Baldor said, his voice as soothing as Juliet's. "Slow your breathing. Easy…yes, perfect." Calmed by his tone, Hal did as he instructed as Albriech carefully lifted her to help her sit up. As he did, she felt unbearably dizzy and heard Albriech mutter, "She'll be weak. Juliet, can you fetch her something light to put on her stomach. That honey and milk won't hold her any longer."

"Aye."

"And the physician!" Albriech called out as an afterthought.

Footsteps scattered as Juliet disappeared from view, and Hal found herself leaning against Albriech for support, a slight tremor in her limbs as she got used to the feeling of being back in her own body. She glanced between the brothers, her eyes wide with questions she did not yet have the energy to ask.

Baldor gave her arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze "I can only imagine how confused you must be. But I do not think you should hear everything from us. Murtagh and Thorn should be back soon. He'll explain everything. Although he'll be furious that you woke up during our shift instead of his."

Her lips twitched in an effort to smile. So Murtagh and Thorn were okay? She felt comforted enough by that fact that she nodded her head, allowing Albriech to ease her back against the headboard.

For the next few hours, there was a steady stream of familiar and unfamiliar faces coming in and out of the room. Juliet soon returned with a tray of foods sure to be light on Hal's delicate stomach. Even so, the broth was hard to swallow, and her stomach felt queasy at the first few sips. She managed to finish about half, along with some honeyed tea and a few bites of the cut-up pieces of fruit before she felt she'd had enough. Then the royal physician came in to check on Hal who, for all intents and purposes, was healthy, albeit physically weak. He insisted that she be accompanied to walk the perimeter of the keep daily to work up her strength to what it had been before.

Once the physician had cleared her, Albriech and Baldor stepped out so that Juliet could help Hal bathe. Hal stared at her body, shocked by the startling weight loss in her figure. She looked starved, bones sticking out in places that made her seem like nothing more than a dead body. It was chilling, and she looked away before she began to cry. Just how long had it been? She changed into a dress that was lined on the inside to block out the cold. It fastened up to her neck and was secure around her wrists. Hal was grateful for the warmth, but admittedly the garment itched. She was fitted with a new pair of boots, and thick stockings as well to keep her feet from chafing in the leather material. It felt disconcerting, to have Juliet there attending to her without Merida. As things began to come back to her, she felt more and more distressed, almost ill.

Despite the material of her clothes and the warmth of the room, Hal couldn't stop shivering. But she insisted on starting her exercises, too startled by her appearance and fatigue to not want to get back to full strength as soon as possible. Besides, by the look of herself, she'd been in bed long enough. Baldor and Hal took a turn about the keep, Albriech trailing closely behind for, while Juliet gave the room Hal had been occupying a deep and thorough cleaning so that it would be ready by the time she returned.

As they walked, she noticed that it was unusually quiet. She could not hear the sounds of…busyness and life that should exist. There were very few soldiers present, and the ones she saw gave her startled looks and a wide yet respectful berth. Some even nodded in acknowledgement. But none, she noticed, spared a hateful glance like they once would have. At most, some may have avoided looking at her altogether, as if they could not yet discern how they felt about her still. She did not mind their indifference, however, even if it was still rather unnerving.

They were on their third trip around and Hal was beginning to feel flushed and breathless, something she had never before experienced after basic walking. She was hot under her cloak and dress, and yet her shivering was even worse. Baldor noticed and slowed to a stop, resting his hand on her back to help her keep steady as she struggled to catch her breath. She felt faint.

"Let's get her back inside," Albriech said, approaching with a concerned look. "She may have already strained herself."

"I'm fine," Hal tried to say, but her voice came out raspy and hoarse, like she had been screaming non-stop for days.

"Of course, you of all people would insists so," Baldor teased. "Mind your health, Miss Halen. It would not due to lose you now."

She wondered what he meant by that, but also knew he and his brother spoke sense. She let them lead her back to her room where Juliet quickly stripped her down to nothing. She was already a bit sweaty and Juliet cleaned her off once more before helping her into a clean nightgown and then back into bed. She had Hal drink a bit of water to soothe her throat. When she had finished all she could, Juliet set the cup down on the table by the bed.

Albriech sat inside with her while Baldor remained out front. She was too tired to speak, but Albriech kept shooting her relieved smiles when she met his gaze. She marveled at the fact that she could be so tired after sleeping for goodness knows how long, but she found herself drifting off for a bit. She became alert only when she felt a gentle presence in her mind. Eyes still half shut, she found herself smiling.

Hello, Thorn.

There was a pause, but Hal could sense the stirring of emotions in the silence before Thorn said, If I could, I would weep. I have missed your voice, young one.

And I yours. Where are you?

Murtagh and I have just entered the city limits, returning from Dras-Leona. I cannot explain it, but I somehow knew you were awake. I just knew it.

Is there anything you don't know? Hal teased.

More than I would like, but not enough to yet concern me.

A few minutes passed in silence, and the next time Thorn spoke again, all he said was, Brace yourself.

Hal chuckled, already feeling her eyes begin to burn, a nervous yet eager fluttering in her stomach. She heard footsteps approach, hesitating right outside the door. There was a quiet knock before the door came open, Murtagh tentatively poking his head in as though fearing she was asleep and he was disturbing her. But when they locked eyes, Hal burst into relieved tears, beaming at the sight of him.

He rushed forward in an instant, his eyes already red. A helmet he'd been holding under his arm he let fall carelessly to the floor as he moved to be by her side, sitting on the bed and taking her hands in his. Albriech set the helmet on the trunk and exited the room to give them privacy.

"Halen," Murtagh breathed, pressing kisses to her palm and wrist. "Oh Halen, I've missed you."

"I missed you too." She chuckled, sniffling as she took in his appearance. Perhaps it was the time that had passed, but he seemed more handsome than before. She noticed his attire, the armor and said, "This is new."

He heard the concern in her voice. "Don't worry, iet dunei. I wasn't fighting. Think of it as a uniform. Nasuada's been keeping Thorn and I busy."

She let her fingers graze his cheeks, feeling just the smallest bit of stubble. He watched her tenderly as she traced the features of his face, comforted by the familiar lines and angles. "I came back."

He nodded, biting down on his lip just as it began to tremble with emotion. "I always knew you would," he assured her. "I always knew you would."

…

Three months. That's how long it had been since Hal had slipped into her coma. It was the first thing she asked, and the shock of Murtagh's answer only made everything else more painful. Her final warning to Roran had been correct: Thea had successfully managed to eliminate magic. As far as anyone was concerned, the ancient language meant nothing.

Murtagh spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, seated on the edge of Hal's bed. Hands folded in her lap, her face was expressionless as she gazed down, listening, but not fully hearing. His words were interrupted by flashes of the attack, her memories fully coming together to form the coherent story she had only been able to recall in pieces.

When Murtagh began to detail the condition of the citizens and all they had endured afterwards, Hal's resolve crumbled, a pained sob forcing itself free from the back of her throat. She immediately covered her mouth with her hands, but Murtagh cut himself off and said, "I knew it. This is too much —"

"No," she begged, not even bothering to hide her tears. "No, please. Just tell me. I'd rather know now. Please."

His eyes looked at her desperately, eager to change her mind. But Hal did not want to run away from the ugliness.

She forced herself to meet Murtagh's gaze, maintaining contact until he finally relented with a slow nod of his head. He finished telling her about the issues they had run into regarding the decrease in shelter, the harsh winter, and shortages in things like food and medicine. Despite assistance from neighboring cities, the sudden demand had been difficult to meet, especially without magic. Many more had died before things began to stabilize. Messengers were constantly running in and out, ferrying updates from leadership. Murtagh and Thorn were often dispatched for more pressing matters and concerns, like Thea or the Black Hand (which he had been attempting to track down with little success). Things, right now, had improved, but there was a wariness that made it difficult to appreciate this small feat.

"I know it's a lot," he finished, leaning forward. "Do you have any questions?"

Honestly…she did not. The simple effort of processing all this information was overwhelming enough that her brain didn't have time to also analyze everything and come up with a feasible response. Something gnawed in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn't scratch. A glaring clue that she was missing. But she could come up with nothing. Murtagh seemed to understand this and rested his hand on her cheek, raising her eyes to meet his. The steel grey felt so gentle and warm, so loving and kind. Hal's vision blurred as she began to sob, folding in on herself.

He pulled her into his arms, allowing her to bury her face in his chest as he rocked her gently. "You were so brave, my love. So very, very brave. This was not your fault. Trust me and believe me, Halen: you did not do this."

She wanted to. She wanted so desperately to, because Murtagh would not lie to her. But deep in her heart, how could she not take responsibility? How could she not look back and wonder, if she had just done something differently, said something sooner, she could've changed the overall outcome they were left with?

"We'll stop Thea together," Murtagh assured her, filling in the silence. "Right now, just focus on getting stronger."

She didn't know what else to say except, "Okay."

Content with her response, Murtagh stood back up and began to change out of his heavier, more formal attire. Hal noticed that as he was removing his jerkin and tunic, he seemed to grimace ever-so slightly, his movements becoming cautious. Standing with his back to her, Hal stared at the puckered scar where the pipe had struck him and felt her throat tighten. He had not even hesitated to dive in front of her. She could've lost him so easily. In just a matter of seconds at that.

"Rider?"

He turned to her instantly, as if fearing something was wrong. Not wanting him to worry, Hal simply patted the spot he had been sitting prior. Without hesitation, he moved to sit back down. "Is everything all right?"

She shook her head. "You worry too much, have I ever told you that?"

Before he could respond, she raised her hand to the scar on his front, similarly red and irritated-looking. Like it hadn't quite healed properly. "It looks worse than it really is. I've been taking medicine for the pain and applying ointment almost daily. It's the best they could do but I still have pretty good use of my arm, all things considered."

She shook her head, recalling how easily he had stepped in front of her to protect her. "You idiot. Don't you ever scare me like that again."

"You're one to talk," he said teasingly.

As he said that, however, Hal exhaled slowly and called forth her magic as she would have any other time. Murtagh's eyes widened as he was filled with warmth. Hal noticed that her hands did not glow as they had when she created the shield. But this was perhaps the easiest time she'd ever using her magic without the language. Her focus was absolute, her mind concentrating on the complex system of muscle and nerves and the like. She didn't fret that her magic would go awry like she would have before either. It was Murtagh. She would let her magic claim her life before she let it hurt him ever again.

When the spell was done, she sat back a bit to observe her work. "I never needed the language," Hal reminded him, glancing up and smiling at his stunned expression. She lowered her hand, grimacing at the scar that remained. It was not as red or uneven as before, but smooth and pale. She knew that had she been at her full strength, she likely would not have left a scar at all. As it were, the simple spell alone exhausted her. "How does that feel?"

He blinked to attention, rotating his arm and lifting it, his fingers pressed to the site on his shoulder to check for anything Hal might have missed. He chuckled in awe. "It feels perfect. Thank you, iet dunei."

"Anything for you."

His expression softened and she shot him a small smile in kind. He reached up to cup her cheek, his eyes holding hers for an inconceivable amount of time. Like he still couldn't fathom that she was here and awake. Blushing furiously under his gaze, Hal made to turn her head when Murtagh finally made his move. He grabbed the other side of her face, turning her head and holding her still before he leaned forward to press his lips to hers.

Hal simply closed her eyes, relieved that this was his reaction. His touch was light, but it conveyed so much that Hal was left feeling breathless as he pulled back far too soon. He lifted his lips to plant kisses on her nose, her forehead, the top of her eyelids, both cheeks, and her chin. He moved slowly and deliberately, and Hal felt the tension slowly ebb away until she felt light and warm.

He slowly climbed into bed with her, his mouth moving across her jaw and down her neck. His touch wasn't sensual or with ulterior motive. She could sense that he simply needed this as much as she did — perhaps more. Although it felt like it had been three months as far as her body was concerned, her mind felt as though she had slept for only a few days. Murtagh, on the other hand, had been waiting patiently for so for her to wake up.

So, Hal let him continue, her body growing flushed and relaxed under his affections. As she finally drifted back into a deep slumber, she was still able to rest easy back in Murtagh's arms where she'd always felt safe.

…

Word slowly began to spread that Hal was finally awake, at least according to Juliet. It made sense, seeing as how Giles came to visit before Murtagh had a chance to tell him. "Oh, bless you, you're awake!" he had proclaimed, rushing forward to her bedside. Taking her cheeks in his hands, he kissed both sides of her face. "You brave, stupid, foolish, impossibly powerful, girl. Don't you ever scare me like that again."

Hal had no intention of repeating such a feat and assured him at least of that much. Her days were rather listless as she had to focus on getting her strength back up. If Murtagh could not go with her, Giles, Albriech, Baldor, or Juliet were quick to volunteer and help. It was rather embarrassing for Hal, who wanted to insist that she was fine, that she didn't need help. But she could not deny how much more assured she felt walking knowing someone was there to catch her should she fall or stumble (which happened more than she would care to admit).

In less than two weeks, she had recovered enough of her strength to attempt the stairs. It was a slow process, Murtagh negating every instance of Hal's impatience with the declaration that he would throw her over his shoulder and put her back in bed if he thought for a moment she would risk harming herself. Stubborn as she was to get better, Hal was extremely resistant to being bed-ridden any longer.

They met up with Thorn, Hal breaking away from Murtagh long enough to hug the dragon around his nose. He released a low hum, almost a purr, deep from the back of his throat at her embrace, wrapping his tail around her in return.

You look well enough already.

Hal snorted. You sound just like Murtagh. Both of you are full of nonsensical flattery. Since when did you two become so optimistic?

If I had to guess, I would say a little over a year ago.

Hal opened her mouth, then processed what he had said and her face brightened. "Well played, dragon." She could hear Murtagh chuckle behind her.

The snow crunched under their boots as they continued to walk. One arm looped through Murtagh's, her other hand resting on Thorn's warm scales, Hal was completely at ease. Completely safe. She only felt a moment's hesitation, the lump in her throat begging for her to keep the thoughts currently running through her mind to herself.

In a low voice, and without any prompting, she began to tell them about the siege as she experienced it. She had been rather quiet about it since waking, and Murtagh had not broached the matter once. But she could feel how it lingered around them, in the moments where they did not know how to fill the silence, his grey eyes questioning as Hal's mind drifted off on its own. She figured Baldor and Albriech had already mentioned the specifics, but she knew that there were things they did not know. They could not properly convey her panic and distress. They did not know what Thea had said to her that nearly unraveled Hal's sanity completely.

They did not know that she had killed a man.

By the time Hal finished speaking, they had stopped walking, standing in place as she stared at the ground. Her hands were shaking as she forced herself to relive those harrowing moments, but her voice managed to maintain a detached and unflinching tone. Although, she was too afraid to lift her head, knowing one look from Murtagh would undo her forced, stoic nature.

There was a moment of silence where no one said anything at first. Not until Thorn asked, Why do you refuse to meet our gaze, little one? Why do you stand with such shame in your expression?

Hal blinked quickly, unsure of how to respond. She felt her lower lip tremble and bit down on it hard to hide the tell. "I wanted…" She felt herself almost come undone and had to take a deep breath. "I wanted to be brave," she admitted. "I kept acting like I was. I told myself if I just kept moving, if I didn't stop to think of what was happening around me, I'd be fine." She felt her gaze grow distant for a moment, her mind filled with haunting images. "But all this violence, all this bloodshed…where does it end? Choices that were made for us a decade ago continue to haunt us. All of this evil because my hand twitched." She curled her fingers into fists, as if her magic might go off and go awry right then and there. "I wanted to be brave," she finished, finally looking up at Thorn. "But all I was…all I am, is scared. And it is because of that, that I am ashamed. Someone I once loved more than anything was capable of such cruelty. Only I can carry that burden. Only I can carry that shame. And it's all…so heavy."

At this, Hal had to turn away, her composure nearly lost at her words. She covered her mouth with her hand, letting a few tears fall but otherwise fighting to keep her wits about her. After a few minutes, she felt calm enough to turn back around, although her eyes still looked everywhere but at Murtagh.

"Before I say what I want to," Murtagh began, "there's something I want to show you first. Come, iet dunei."

He held out his hand, waiting patiently. Hal studied it for a moment before nodding and slipping her hand in his, comforted by the solid hold he had on her as his fingers tightened at her touch.

Before they could leave, Thorn touched her mind again. Murtagh will say what he feels later. I will tell you what I feel now. I know pretty words cannot erase the trauma you experienced. I wish I could carry such burdens for you, and I know Murtagh does too. Even if you do not like to hear it, we are more accustomed to such horrors, and it was always our wish to shield you from them as much as possible.

However, he continued, his voice growing firmer, I cannot change the past. I cannot change or alter the events you witnessed. But I can tell you I did not doubt your strength for a moment. When we realized what might be happening, the only thing that helped us keep our wits was how strong you are. You are the definition of a fighter, even if you don't see yourself as such. Not only that, but you chose to put others before yourself. That kind of courage and selflessness make me so proud of you. I cannot tell you how to feel, but just know that I would never be ashamed of someone who runs into battle to save innocent people. That is someone I would follow to the ends of the earth. And if Murtagh weren't my rider, I would hope someone like you would be. If you ever need to talk, you know you can always come to me. I love you dearly.

Hal was gripping Murtagh's hand, tears running hot down her cheeks. She nodded to show she had heard him, unable to form a coherent sentence quite yet. Thorn's touch on her cheek only made her cry harder, and they had to wait a bit so that she could catch her breath.

I love you too, she finally managed to say, incessantly wiping her face on her sleeves. Although she was sure her eyes were horribly red by now. And thank you, Thorn, for flying back to me so quickly.

Anything for you, little one.

She hated leaving Thorn so soon, but she allowed Murtagh to gently pull her away. When she realized they were headed towards the castle, she immediately became nervous. "What exactly is it that you wanted to show me, rider?"

"Just wait."

She sniffed but did not press the issue. He walked with purpose, and for the first time Hal noticed how differently he carried himself. In fact, she noticed that even some of the soldiers would actually stop to acknowledge him, and Murtagh greeted several by name.

"What, so people like you now or something?" Hal muttered, somewhat teasing and somehow shocked by the change of demeanor.

"Not everyone," he said with an unbothered smile. "But, admittedly, I've been on better terms with some of the soldiers these last few weeks. Roran did much to help with that too before he left."

Hal didn't respond, deep in thought. It had to be more than that though. His assured gait, confident expression, relaxed aura…he walked the halls now as he walked around Illium. Not quite as laid back or at ease, but still comfortable and sure of his place. Hal knew then that something had happened to do this. Something that had nothing to do with her waking up. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and Murtagh raised his brow as he caught her look. "What?"

"You've changed."

He chuckled. "I have."

She hadn't expected him to admit it so openly. "What happened?"

"I will tell you, iet dunei. But one thing at a time, aye?"

He led her down the hall, and Hal could hear a steady stream of voices growing louder. When they reached the double-doors at the end of the hallway, Murtagh pushed them open and led her inside. There was a roar of sound that the doors had been blocking out. Hal stepped into the room, a giant chamber she didn't recall seeing at all from before the siege. An overwhelming number of people were seated in cots, on the floor, strolling around the length of the room for a bit of exercise. It looked so…normal. Children giggled and ran around the room, ignoring the adults who yelled at them to slow down. Although there was a weariness to their faces, most people carried themselves with a semblance of quiet energy and perseverance.

With her hood still up and so much movement, no one looked twice at them as Murtagh led her between a row of tables, his neck craning a bit as if searching for someone. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking at when suddenly an old man called out to Murtagh, waving his hand to get the rider's attention. Murtagh brightened to see him and cut between the rows to reach the man. As they got closer, a young boy, perhaps no more than six or seven, was with him, and Hal could see that they were playing with crafts on the table.

Hal recognized the child instantly and felt her breath catch.

He didn't notice her at first. Not until Hal had moved to stand right beside him, getting down to his level and lowering the hood of her cloak. She could not help but notice that his leg was still in a splint, propped up under the table where he sat. He looked up, momentarily startled before recognition dawned in his sweet, brown eyes. "It's you!"

She had to fight the urge to embrace him, sheer joy that he was okay tearing down her resistance. But she didn't want to overstep. Taking a slow breath, she smiled. "You remember me?"

He nodded. "You were in the city. You saved me."

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. "Aye. I'm so glad to see you're well. Tell me, child, what is your name?"

"Franklin. But everyone calls me Frankie."

"Hmm, that's a good name: Frankie. My name is Halen. But everyone calls me Hal." She held out her hand and he shook it, shooting her a toothy smile.

"Hal," said Murtagh speaking suddenly, "this is Frankie's grandfather, Marv."

At this introduction, Hal realized she had been rude and quickly stood up, bowing her head respectfully. The old man seemed unbothered, chuckling. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Nonsense, nonsense. You were all Frankie and Murtagh here could talk about for weeks." He held out his hand and Hal graciously shook it, but he held on, leaning forward to say, "Thank you for looking out for my grandson. I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost him."

Hal allowed herself a small smile. "I'm just glad I could help. How are you both faring? Can I get you anything? Can I help?"

"Whoa now, didn't you just wake up, Miss? You should take it easy. We've had more rest than you."

"That's what I keep telling her," Murtagh said, shooting her a knowing smile. She met his gaze, unable to tell him just then how grateful she was. She did not know how their paths crossed, but it meant something, to know that the boy had made it.

"How have you been, my boy?" the old man asked, turning to Murtagh and gently punching his stomach enthusiastically. "I feel like we see you less and less these days. Her majesty keeping you busy, I suppose. And now you have this lovely young woman to look after too."

"Yes sir. But work has been good. I'm sure it won't be long before Hal gets sick of me fretting over her." She snorted as the man said, "Never!" They all laughed and Hal felt her muscles begin to relax a bit more. "How are you two holding up?" Murtagh asked.

"Meh. Same old. This bad weather aggravates my poor bones." Marv tapped his fist twice on his left leg, and Hal realized with a shock that he was not sitting at the table bench like she had first assumed. Instead, he was in something that looked hand-crafted, a chair big enough for him to sit in with wheels attached for mobility. "I can't complain though. Things could be worse."

"I think you're allowed to complain a little," Murtagh threw back, his voice almost teasing. Hal smiled at the exchange. Clearly Murtagh had developed a rapport with this man and his grandson, and it made her happy to know he had been able to connect with other people on his own. That perhaps he hadn't been as alone these last few months as she feared.

"Excuse me, Miss…"

Hal turned to see a young couple standing a few feet away, glancing at her nervously. The man removed his cap from his head out of respect, holding it over his heart. "You might not remember us, but we saw you talking to Marv here and wanted to come express our gratitude."

"Of course, I remember you," Hal assured them, her memory conjuring up a familiar image. They had been trapped inside their home, spared from the debris that had destroyed it, but unable to escape. Hal had heard their cries that had fallen on deaf, human ears and gathered a small group of men to help move the rocks. "I'm so glad to see you're both safe."

"Can I…can I give you a hug?" the woman asked. "I know it must seem like a strange request, but I just…if you don't mind?"

Stunned, Hal couldn't help but glance at Murtagh for a response. He just gave her a small shrug, silently letting her know it was her choice. Swallowing nervously, Hal nodded her head and the woman rushed forward, throwing her arms around Hal's neck. Hal flinched at first, realizing how long it had been someone besides Murtagh was so comfortable with her. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around the woman, finding that she needed the embrace just as much. To her surprise, the woman's hold only tightened further.

Seeing the exchange, several others shyly and eagerly stepped forward. Many Hal recognized, even briefly. Others she did not. They all wanted to thank her, shake her hand, touch some part of her as if they couldn't believe she was real and alive after so long. In fact, her three-month absence combined with her sudden reappearance seemed to only add to their fascination.

The crowd began to grow in size and intensity. She could see that not everyone was impressed or eager to approach, but she still felt the curious glances on her all the same, sizing her up. If she thought she had been in the spotlight before as Murtagh's partner, it seemed to grow tenfold now that she appeared to everyone as a seemingly powerful magic user and capable fighter. Some people tried to thrust gifts at her despite her polite insistence otherwise, especially considering how scarce resources were. Some cried as they thanked her, and Hal could not help but feel the tightness in her chest grow tenfold as these people clung to her, their relief and grief tangible.

It did not take long for Hal to start crying, sniffling and wiping at her face as more people approached her. Then the crowd started to become overwhelming, pushing forward like she was some kind of idol. She was not nearly as comfortable with that. Soon, it became difficult to stand, her vision so blurry that she had to close her eyes altogether.

"All right, all right, give her some space. Step back!"

Multiple voice were shouting, but only one familiar pair of hands touched her, guiding her gently back out of the room. Hal could barely walk, her entire body overwhelmed by the reception. Murtagh quickly took her into a spare room being used to hold supplies and equipment. Once inside, Hal dropped to her knees, gasping for breath.

Murtagh kneeled down beside her, his hand rubbing small circles on her back. "I know, my love. I know. It's so easy to get wrapped up in all the people we could not save. In the darkness, it's so very, very easy. And I know you. I know that you are not happy unless you can save everyone."

Hal began to cry harder. And yet, Murtagh did not speak any louder. And Hal did not struggle to hear him.

"It's gonna hurt, Hal. This grief, this guilt, and yes, even the shame, is going to hurt. But do not let it overshadow what you have accomplished. You saved hundreds of innocent people, Hal. I know the cost of war is high, and we should make space to grieve for the dead. But I will not let you think that is all there is to what happened. In death, there is also life. Kind, gracious, beautiful life. You had more of a hand in that than anyone else. We may not have gotten the exact outcome we wanted, but we got something. That's better than nothing at all. All those people back there don't think what you did was 'nothing.' Nor do I."

Hal's lower lip trembled as she looked at him. His smile was gentle as he pressed his forehead to hers, his hand still on her back. "I don't say it nearly as often as I should. But dammit Hal…" Almost immediately, his eyes filled with tears that he doesn't bother to hold back. "Dammit, I'm so proud of you. So very proud, my love."

And with those words, Hal fell into his arms and wept, move by his gesture, by the faces of the citizens who had openly and graciously thanked her. It was just as Murtagh said. It wasn't exactly what she would have wanted or hoped for. She could not pretend that she was suddenly unbothered by those who had not made it or the role she felt she played in their demise.

But for right now, in this moment, it was, indeed, better than nothing at all.