A/N: Hey guys. I'm good mood, thanks for asking. I feel kinda bad because I've pretty much devoted this entire week to homework and stuff. I also feel like these chapters should be a LOT longer. It took me forever to write this one, and they are getting progressively longer, but I still feel like I should writing more :(. So... I got a very good question in an email: What does "A/N" stand for? My answer to that is: You can pretty much call it whatever you want, Author's Note (which is actually correct), Additional Notice, A Notice, etc. The point is, you can call it whatever you like, as long as you READ IT! Please, please, please, please, please! AND HOPEFULLY MY CAPITAL LETTERS AND THE LENGTH OF THIS NOTICE WILL CATCH YOUR ATTENTION! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 7

"He shall not!" Nasuada exclaimed, at the same time Eragon exclaimed, "He shall!"

"Why should he be killed or even punished?" Nasuada demanded a note of outraged incredulity coloring her tone. "He saved your life? What would you say if you were in his situation? You've must have recognized your crimes, Eragon. I remember you recounting the detail of your adventure back from Helgrind with Arya. You killed an innocent soldier begging your pardon and mercy! What kind of a man would that make Murtagh if he'd committed such treachery?"

"How can you hold that against me? He was under Galbatorix' control! He would have told the king of our whereabouts, and surely our necks would be slit or worse!"

"Murtagh was under Galbatorix' control! Tell me, did that soldier deserve to die?"

"It was necessary," Eragon growled softly.

"Murtagh is on our side now," Nasuada said just as quietly, and ten times as deadly. "Would you kill an ally, your half-brother, just as you would kill a meaningless enemy? And what of his dragon? Thorn is the last free male dragon in existence. I speak for the whole of Alagaësia when I say; we cannot afford to have him driven mad." The young leader's tone took a mocking edge.

"Maybe we can't kill him, but I insist he be punished for his crimes!" Eragon said obstinately.

"What crime has he committed that you haven't?" Nasuada exclaimed on the verge of tears. "Why should you not be punished just the same, Eragon?"

"How is it crime if was committed in due cause?" Eragon roared.

"How is it any different?" insisted Nasuada. "Is a man not jailed for manslaughter, just the same as he is for murder?"

"It's not the same!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, it is not!"

"It is the same, and if Murtagh is to be penalized, you will face the same fate!" Nasuada's echoed in dungeon with unyielding finality.

"Fine! Let him reap havoc again when he betrays us to Galbatorix!"

"I will not let you hurt him." The words escaped though Nasuada's clenched teeth as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"We need to play the role of authority over him, Nasuada. How can we do so when we let him get away with unlawful misdemeanor? We won't kill him, just…" the rider sighed. "Just make sure he won't make the same mistakes again." Eragon's tone bespoke gentleness and compassion for Murtagh. His attitude had turned around in an instant. Nasuada saw him tense up for a moment, then scowl. When she met his eyes with a question gaze, he erased the emotion.

Arya spoke. "I disagree, Eragon," she met Eragon's glare with an unwavering, piercing gaze. "Murtagh is not to be punished." And that settled the matter. Eragon strode out of dungeon looking outraged.

"Are you holding something over him, Arya?" Nasuada asked, wiping her eyes. The elf just smiled. "Why did Eragon give up his position so easily? He seemed rooted against Murtagh, but then he just… gave up."

"It was you," Murtagh said in his hoarse voice.

Nasuada raised an eyebrow. "My stance wasn't moving him before." Murtagh said nothing.

"Arya, please heal Murtagh enough so that he can stand, and tell Trianna nothing of this."

Arya did so, and Nasuada said, "I will show you to your quarters." She thought frantically about where his "quarters" would be. She pulled him up and he staggered against her. "You can walk?" Murtagh nodded weakly.

When they reached the outer door of the dungeon, the bitter night air assaulted the three. Murtagh moaned. Arya and Nasuada shivered. It was dark, and most of the Varden was refined to their tent because of the weather conditions.

"There's a fire in my tent," Nasuada said through chattering teeth. "I'll take Murtagh there until other arrangements can be made." Arya nodded and turned in the direction of her tent.

Murtagh clung desperately to Nasuada the whole way to her tent, like she was a dream he was afraid was vaporize if he unclenched his fist. The young maiden felt awkward having a grown man stick to her like static cling. Finally, they reached her tent.

"You'll be staying her until I make other plans, Murtagh." He looked incredibly weary, like he was about to collapse. Nasuada glanced around the tent for a place for him to sleep. The floor was the only available space. But I can't let him sleep on the floor, She thought; it would be selfish and inhospitable. So she led him to her canopy bed. She would sleep on the floor in front of the fire. Just for tonight.

Murtagh fell asleep within a few minutes, and Lady Nightstalker drew a chair up to her fire and sat, warming her hands, assessing her situation while absently observing the play of light on her dark knuckles. I was discombobulating to have Murtagh, a friend, then an enemy, and now a friend again, sleeping in her own bed.

He's sworn he is no longer loyal to Galbatorix, but that does not mean he will not turn against the Varden of his own accord. She hated to be suspicious of Murtagh; it hurt her pride to admit, but at one point she had actually fancied the traitor. Maybe not a traitor. Just lost, confused, and unfairly manipulated. A mixture of unruly emotions began churning in Lady Nasuada's gut. Unsettled, she dragged her chair back to her desk and began working on her reports. It was still early in the evening; the time of year was deceiving, and after the day's events, all she wanted was to go to sleep. Despite this, she dragged through her reports, one by one for about two hours.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"Murtagh!" Nasuada screeched. "You half startled me out of my wits. Well, I figured that, due to your condition, you should have the bed," she reddened at his concern. "I'll make do on the floor."

"No," Murtagh insisted, surveying the room for the first time, "I've been sleepin' on the ground for as long as I care to recall. And I don't think sleeping on this rug would be much of punishment." He smiled wanly. He was right; the rug was one of the finest items Nasuada had brought with her from the Varden.

"I'll sleep on the floor. Or rather, you'll sleep on the bed, if the wording makes any difference. That settles the matter. You must be famished. I'll have whatever you want sent right away."

As Murtagh relayed his list of wants to a servant Nasuada had sent for, she took his moment of distraction to study his appearance. He seemed aged beyond his years, and his features had lost the boyish roundness they had retained last she saw him. She was surprised his perfect, silky raven hair, which laid flat on his head, although she was certain it hadn't been combed in months, didn't have any grey streaks. And his eyes were his dominant trait, inherited from his father, Morzan. They were bright blue, and cold as ice. But she could still see kindness and carefully contained misery, reverence in them. Something she was sure Morzan's never showed.

If you like, review! Please! I you don't like, review! Please! And I'm begging, I'm on my hands and knees, read these notes, too! I try to make them in bold to catch your attention. And I feel kind of retarded, demanding reviews like this, too, but I need ideas, inspiration! And on that happy, non-pitiful note, I think the next chapter is going to Murtagh's POV! Yay!

Ta ta/Chao/Peace out, dudes.

-Seastar