CHAPTER TWENTY: You Just Have To Survive

"I wanted you to know,

I love the way you laugh

I want to hold you high

And steal your pain away."

- Broken, Seether

Murtagh felt soft fingers rhythmically running through his hair as he came to his senses. For a few moments, he was content to lie there with his eyes closed. It felt soothing as his hair was brushed back from his face. When he opened his eyes, he was not in the least surprised to see Ashen sitting over him with a slight smile on her face. He was, however, astonished to see the cast around her right arm.

"You look so innocent when you're asleep," she stated blatantly.

Murtagh sat up, pulling the blankets back to see the bandages wrapped around his torso. His chest was bare as he wore no shirt. He reached across and gently gripped Ashen's wrist, pulling her to him.

"Who did this to you?" There was a hint of menace in his voice, although he was currently in no position to go and fight anyone.

"Mordecai." Ashen felt there was no point procrastinating. "His sword was poisoned. I had a fever for days."

Murtagh was suddenly aware that he must have been out for some time.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Ashen shrugged. "Five days. We're moving north for Uru'baen soon."

Murtagh sat up straighter, but a concerned look flashed across Ashen's face and she flattened her palms against his chest, attempting to push him back down. Murtagh couldn't help but smirk as her cheeks flamed red.

"Are you trying to molest me while I'm injured?"

Ashen sighed heavily, ignoring his joking around. "Murtagh, you should be lying down. Those ribs are still broken, you know."

Murtagh wasn't listening. He'd been injured plenty before and he would be damned if he would let the Shade's work keep him abed. He struggled to sit up and Ashen sat back, a wry look about her face as she realised that there was no stopping Murtagh from doing as he pleased.

"I was so worried about you," Ashen admitted, examining her fingernails, "The healers didn't know how long it would take for you to recover."

She looked across at Murtagh, who was still trying to sit up straight, wincing at the pain that it brought. Her eyes hardened and she shook her head.

"Just stop! You are hurt."

Murtagh shrugged. "Since when has that stopped me?"

Ashen scowled and clambered over the bed to him, attempting to forcibly push him back down. Then, somehow her lips were pressed to his and she was kissing him fiercely. Murtagh groaned – although Ashen wasn't sure if this was in pleasure or the pain in his ribs. She shivered, his breath hot on her neck.

"You're so stupid," Ashen whispered, her voice hoarse as Murtagh trailed kisses down her neck, "So stupid…" Except it was hard to concentrate with his hand sliding under her shirt, tracing over the bare skin of her stomach. It sent a thrill of delight running up her spine, although she knew that they shouldn't be doing this.

"Am I interrupting something?" A cold voice asked.

Eragon and Tristan stood at the entrance to the tent. Murtagh quickly withdrew his hand and Ashen slid away from him. It might have been alright it was just Eragon…but with Tristan there, she couldn't even look at him.

"That kind of behaviour is out of line," Eragon scolded, almost as if he was the older brother and not Murtagh, "You should both know better. That is unacceptable in a medical tent."

Murtagh laughed and raked his hair out of his eyes.

"Why do you care so much, Eragon? Are you jealous?"

Ashen turned and shot him a warning glance, but he ignored it. Finally, all the bitterness Murtagh felt for his brother came spilling out. It had always been Eragon who had got the better lot in life.

"Is it because I've finally got something you want?" Murtagh mocked, his grey eyes flashing dangerously, "Do you wish that it was you kissing her instead? You always got everything, little brother. Now you want the woman I love as well?"

Eragon reached for Brisingr, his eyes gleaming with fury. Tristan shot him a glance and he relaxed, although only slightly.

"You know very well that I am not interested in Ashen in that way," Eragon replied icily, "I think you should be resting. You have a lot of healing to do before we get to Uru'baen."

He turned on his heel and marched from the tent. Murtagh reluctantly lay back with a frustrated sigh. He did not look pleased. Tristan still stood there, his stern gaze resting on Ashen.

"I must speak with you outside."

His tone was curt. Ashen bit her lip and looked at Murtagh, but he was deliberately avoiding her gaze. She could just tell that she was in trouble. When she ducked under the tent flap, Tristan was already pacing outside. His eyes were angry as he turned to glower at Ashen.

"Just what do you think you are playing at?" he demanded of her. "I never thought you were the kind to demonstrate such immaturity, Ashen."

Ashen frowned. "We were just kissing."

"Just kissing?" spat Tristan, whirling around to face her, "I saw where his hands were, Ashen."

Her eyes narrowed. "He loves me, Tristan."

Her older brother shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Is that what he told you? I know you think he's handsome, Ashen. But that man is bad news. I think we both know what he wants from you. He was all over you."

Ashen's cheeks grew hot and she knew she must be turning red. So far, she and Murtagh had done nothing but kiss. He had never suggested going any further.

"You're wrong."

"I won't sit by and watch this happen!" exclaimed Tristan, his hands clenching into fists. "I will not watch you become a whore for Morzan's son." Ashen flinched as though she'd been slapped. "I am your older brother, Ashen, and I forbid this."

Sullen tears streamed down her cheeks. She never would have thought it before, but Murtagh was one of the best things that had happened to her. At first she hadn't understood the demons he faced. Gradually he'd opened up and she had learned to trust him. He loved her because she saw past the fact that he was Morzan's son, because she accepted him for who he was.

"I don't expect you to understand love," Ashen hissed at her brother.

A nerve twitched in Tristan's forehead.

"This is not love," he snapped at her, "This is your infatuation with a young man who will only hurt you. You've become such a silly girl, taken in by Murtagh's wiles. He only wants one thing from you and once he's got it, he will push you aside."

Ashen was seething. "You just don't understand him, Tristan. When are you going to stop seeing him as evil? You are only two years older than me and you can't tell me that you understand love. I've seen the way you stare at Delia when you think no one is watching you. It's pathetic."

She made to stalk past him, but Tristan grabbed her by the arm and whirled her around.

"You are not to associate with him in a romantic manner, Ashen. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Ashen smiled sourly. "What if I told you I was going to make love to him in my tent tonight?" She was lying, but she just wanted to see the expression on Tristan's face. He was shocked, before he realised she was mocking him and he pushed her away.

"I mean it, Ashen. Stay away from him."

Ashen snickered. "You think you can control me. You just want me to fall in love with Eragon, don't you? Sorry it can't work out all according to your plans, Tristan. I'm sorry you are so blind that you cannot see Murtagh has changed."

Ten days had passed since they had captured Dras-Leona. As with Belatona and Feinster, a small group had been left behind to ensure that things continued to run smoothly. Every day brought them closer to Uru'baen and everyone was filled with dread. The end of the war was nearing – yet no one could tell what the result would be.

Tristan and Ashen still weren't talking, and everyone had warily noted the tension between the two siblings. Right now, the newest Rider just wanted a break from all of it. He knew what would be expected of him and the others once they reached Uru'baen. Eragon had told him about the Eldunari.

What are we going to do, Fafnir? Tristan thought desperately, pressing his face into his dragon's emerald green scales. I could lose everything. I've lost Colton and I feel as though I'm losing Ashen as well.

You're not trying very hard to see things from her point of view, Fafnir pointed out, She feels very strongly about Murtagh.

Yes, but he's Morzan's son and he's betrayed us once before. What if Galbatorix sent him here as a spy? He could be our undoing! Besides, Morzan just used women. I would not be surprised if Murtagh was the same.

Fafnir sounded exasperated. Tristan, don't you think he's got that sort of attitude enough? His whole life, Murtagh has been seen as if he was Morzan…when he clearly isn't. You can forbid Ashen from seeing him all you want, but you know she will defy you.

"Tristan?"

He turned around to see Delia walking towards him and Fafnir. Aziza stood behind her, observing them with dispassionate purple eyes. Tristan's heart somersaulted as the elf Rider came up to him and he immediately chastised himself…except he couldn't help what he felt.

"You have not been speaking with Ashen lately," Delia pointed out, "Is something the matter?"

Tristan didn't know if he wanted to go through all of this again – but he did. He told Delia everything. He told her his suspicions about Murtagh, how Ashen refused to see reason. The elf was quiet for some time, contemplating what he had said.

"Did you ever think perhaps Ashen is right?" she replied quietly.

Tristan's eyes widened. "What?"

Delia sighed heavily. "I do not know Murtagh well, but I can see that despite his bitterness, he is a good man. He does not mean your sister or anyone else of the Varden any harm. The only reason he continues to dislike you so is because you and Eragon are constantly treating him with contempt and comparing him to the man he hates most. A son does not choose his father."

She speaks sense, Fafnir admitted. You and Eragon really need to cut Murtagh some slack.

Tristan cleared his throat, averting his eyes. He felt embarrassed for asking, but he wanted to know before they reached Uru'baen. No one could tell what would happen once they were there.

"What…what of your feelings, Delia?"

Delia stiffened and Tristan braced himself, preparing to be chastised – but when she turned to face him, her purple eyes were glittering with tears. He was shocked; he didn't think he had ever seen an elf cry before.

"I…don't know." She looked miserable as she glanced back at Aziza. "You and Vanir are both dear friends to me. I don't think I've been so uncertain in my life…I just…"

Words failed Delia for once and then she was crying on Tristan's shoulder. For an elf, she was still so young. She was confused about her feelings concerning her young human apprentice and her childhood friend. Tristan was just as conflicted at that moment. With the woman he loved sobbing into his shoulder, he felt like he had won and lost at the same time.

"I thought Tristan told you to stay away from me," Murtagh stated bluntly as Ashen entered the medical tent. The healer who had been keeping an eye on him looked from Murtagh to Ashen while a sly smile on her face and muttered some excuse to leave. Ashen shrugged as she came over to sit down on the end of the bed.

"I don't always listen to my brother."

Murtagh examined her closely. Ever since they had left Uru'baen, she had been getting better. She was not as thin as she had been and he was glad of this. She was starting to heal and get over all that she had endured. Ashen glanced curiously at the bandages encircling Murtagh's torso.

"Can…can I see?"

Murtagh frowned. "It's not a pretty sight."

Ashen raised her eyebrows. "You think I've never seen battle wounds before?"

Murtagh reluctantly started removing the bandages, unwinding them until they fell away, exposing the mess of bruises that was his torso. Ashen sucked in her breath and leaned forward, placing her hands on Murtagh's wounds. He hissed in pain and she leant back.

"Sorry. It looks like it must hurt." She gnawed at her lip, before lowering her voice to a whisper. "Are you afraid, Murtagh?"

He knew she was talking about Uru'baen. To be honest, he was terrified – although he struggled to admit that even to himself. He had no wish to face Galbatorix's wrath, but he knew that was exactly what he had to do.

"Yes." He leaned closer to her, reaching out and tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I just want you to know, Ashen. Just in case I do not survive Uru'baen…"

She turned away. "Don't…"

"I love you. I have ever since we first met, when you did not care that I was Morzan's son."

Ashen blinked. She knew that Murtagh loved her…but since he had been a prisoner of the Varden? Instinctively, she placed a hand on the mess of bruises that made up Murtagh's torso.

"Waise heill."

Murtagh wanted to stop her, but it was too late. By the time she had finished, he was feeling a little better. The bruises were still there, but they were less prominent. Ashen sighed heavily and Murtagh knew the effort had exhausted her. That was when he realised that, despite her tough demeanour, she was very vulnerable.

"Whatever you do, stay away from Zander," he warned her, "Just promise me that."

Ashen looked at her fingernails. "I can't do that, Murtagh."

He leaned forward and gripped her arms. Ashen looked up and saw the desperation in his grey eyes. He was afraid of what the magician might do to her.

"Please, Ashen."

She closed her eyes in defeat. "I promise."