Following Murtagh's exact instructions, Hal cut through alleyways and side streets before finding the door on the far side of the city. The space was rather quiet and narrow, nestled away from much of the noise of the city itself. She was glad the nearby stables had room for Shadow — there was no way a horse that size would fit comfortably, and there was no ideal place to tie her up. She pressed her ear to the wooden door. She could hear faint rustling on the inside, so she knew someone was likely home.

She knocked twice. Paused. Knocked three times rapidly. Paused. Then knocked once.

It was only a matter of moments, but the door flew open in front of her. Before her stood a gentleman perhaps a head shorter than Hal, but still muscled. He had red hair, which she stared at delightfully, wanting to run her fingers through it. She did not, however, do that. His beard was the same color, and his eyes were surprised, suspicious sapphires. He looked to be perhaps a few years older than she and Murtagh, judging by the faint wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes and mouth. Yet he was still shockingly handsome, in a rather brutish sort of way. And he was clearly expecting to see someone else on the other side of his door.

"Who are you?"

"A friend of a friend," Hal told him. "And I've come on his behalf to request a favor."

"I have no friends. I owe no favors. Never contact me again!"

He moved to slam the door shut but Hal quickly stuck her foot in, wincing as it bore the brunt of his overzealous actions. He jerked back in surprise and Hal used it to allow herself in so that she was at least off the street.

"Your name is Giles Brighamson, is it not?" Hal asked. She kept her voice even-toned, even sweet, so he would think her unsuspecting. "Please, just hear me out."

"Get out of my house!"

Hal, however, held her ground. "I can't do that until you agree to at least listen to what I have to say. Please. You were once someone Murtagh considered a friend. He calls on you now to remember him as he was then."

"I want nothing to do with him! Do you hear me! Tell him, or whoever you are working for, that I have paid my debts for my ties with Galbatorix. I have nothing. Nothing! I'm lucky Nasuada saw fit to let me keep what meager earnings I could so that I could start anew. But I am done."

"You thought enough of him to shelter him from Galbatorix when he fled the king's wrath when he was naught but eighteen-years-old," Hal pressed. "You knew him when he was boy, you knew his mentor, Tornac. And you are perhaps one of the few people alive who know that Murtagh did not serve the king of his own fruition." She was talking quickly, nervously, but she realized she must've been reaching him. His expression was one of sorrow and regret. He still seemed nervous, but he was not shouting anymore. Hal pressed forward. "I know it is unfair, that I am here without warning, barging into your home unexpectedly. But I beg of you, please hear me out. Neither I nor Murtagh would do this unless it was a matter of most importance."

"How do I know this is not some sort of trick? Are you hear to test my loyalty to the queen?"

"I have no ties to the current government or the queen. This is not a trick. And if you will allow me, I can produce for you a letter bearing Murtagh's signature. He says you would recognize it and know that every word I am about to tell you will hold true."

Giles stared at her with hard, weary eyes. "Why have you come to me?"

"Because there is a grave threat descending upon the kingdom. And we have information that must be delivered to the queen immediately, but there are certain…steps that must be taken before that can happen. Precautions, to ensure my and Murtagh's safety in the capital."

"What kind of threat?"

"If I may get your word that what I am about to tell you will not leave this room and that we can expect your help, then I will explain everything."

"And if I decline?"

"That is well within your right to do so. I'm not here to raise threats, only to ask for aid. But please, at least hear me out before you say anything."

Giles eyes her wearily. "Are you armed?"

"Only with a dagger in my boot. As I'm sure you can imagine, a city like Ilirea is no place for a woman to be wandering around on her own unarmed."

"You came alone, then? Murtagh is not with you?"

"No, he is not."

Giles considered this. He eyed Hal for a moment then sighed. "You have that same damn expression he used to wear. You are stubborn, aren't you?"

"I regret to inform you that I can be worse than Murtagh."

Giles lips twitched at that. "Somehow, I am not surprised." They were silent a moment. "I know I will regret this, but fine. I will listen to what you have to say and decide for myself what's worth what."

Hal breathed with silent relief at her small victory as he led her further into his home. It was rather simple, but still nice, with a carefully maintained entryway where he offered Hal to hang her cloak. She politely declined, still chilled enough that she did not wish to part with it. His sitting quarters were polished, but surprisingly unused. There was no indention in the cushions of his seats to indicate that anyone had been using them. In fact, the room looked almost too clean. Too neat. Certainly, it wasn't as much as she expected, but Murtagh had more or less hinted that many who had served Galbatorix (willing or not) had lost much with his downfall.

"I don't get many visitors," Giles said, as if reading her mind. "Would you like some tea?"

"If you don't mind. I am rather famished and cold."

Hal's eyes never left the man as he scurried about in his kitchen. She still did not trust him, and even Murtagh admitted that after all this time, it would be unwise for them to assume they would have his blind support. But Hal did not see him slip anything into her food or drink, and he was not, according to Murtagh, a magic user. She listened to their surroundings as well but detected nothing out of the ordinary.

When the light meal was ready, Giles gestured for Hal to sit down. She did, and he reached for a biscuit before dunking it in his tea and taking a bite.

"All right, what is it that is so important that Murtagh would send a woman to my door after all these years?"

"You are familiar with the laws of the land, correct? Murtagh said you served on Galbatorix's Court of Requests and helped oversee the passing of certain cases into common law."

He frowned. "Aye."

Hal nodded. "And, from our understanding, you were one of the few given the title of Master of Requests — the youngest in the court and perhaps in the history of Alagaësia to receive the honor of being a judge, of sorts."

"It does not matter. I was stripped of such titles when Nasuada became queen."

"Actually, you were stripped of your title as lord, which you received from your father. Isn't that right?"

"I'm sure it was implied —"

"You and I both know that there can be no implications when it comes to law. Was it written or not?"

Giles leaned back in his seat, eyeing Hal wearily once more at her earnest line of questioning. "What is this about? What do you want?"

"I'm seeking to file a petition for pardon on behalf of Murtagh and Thorn."

He stared at her incredulously, then shook his head. "Then I have some bad news for you, my dear. If the queen herself does not file the pardon, and if Murtagh himself does not make the request by turning himself in, then it can only be done through family. Meaning it would have to be a…a parent, or a sibling, or a —"

"Spouse," Hal finished. Giles stared at her, and she held his gaze.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he feared speaking too loudly and startling her. "You're mad."

Hal smiled wryly. "You know, Murtagh once told me the exact same thing."

"Is this a trick? This is, isn't it? You're setting me up?"

"Mr. Giles, I assure you, this is not a trick. Here." She slipped her hand into the interior pocket of her cape and produced the letter from Murtagh, folded neatly since they had no wax and seal to close it properly. "Read it yourself."

He snatched the papers from her hands, his own trembling as he unfolded the letter. Hal had not the faintest idea what it said. Murtagh had written it on his own and she took that to mean he did not want her to read it. Whether it be personal or threatening, she didn't know. Perhaps a combination of the two, a desperate plea to an old friend, reminding him of a shared past, combined with the frightening knowledge of what existed outside the realms of even their worst nightmares.

Thea.

Giles' blue eyes flickered to Hal every so often, and she gave him a soft smile before his eyes returned to the letter. Murtagh had said the man had spent countless hours poring over legal documents, and his eyes still flew left to right with great speed between the two pages. First his brows were furrowed in confusion, then rage, then confusion again, before understanding and, surprisingly, resignation and pity finally took hold. Hal was sure he had read the letters multiple times before finally looking up.

"That damn fool," Giles muttered, seemingly to himself, as he did not look at Hal for some time.

Unsure of what she should say or do next, Hal asked, "Do you have any family, Mr. Giles?"

Something in his eyes flashed and he lowered his head. "No. No, I never married. And my parents died when I was young."

"Oh. I'm so sorry." She meant it.

He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly as if realizing she was being sincere.

"Murtagh was almost like a younger brother to me, in a way," Giles said of his own fruition. "He didn't really have friends — he didn't trust many people. He couldn't afford to. But I was surprised when he took to me when we were boys. I had been close with Tornac, although I never devoted myself to his teachings as seriously as Murtagh did. He was much more skilled with a sword than I ever was. I fancied myself a scholar, Murtagh was more of the fighter. Although he was brilliant as well, the bastard."

For some reason, that made Hal smile. She realized she was hearing about Murtagh from someone else's perspective. And she could hear the affection in Giles' voice, whether it was intended or not.

"When he first appeared on the doorstep of my old estate, he looked…lost. Not quite afraid, not quite angry. Just lost. He had run away from the only home he had ever known, even if it was not the home he had wanted. He had lost his mentor, the closest man he ever had to a father, and friend. But by the time he left, there was a bit of fire in him. He was going to hunt down the Ra'zac and find this apparent new dragon rider. I thought him mad but…if it gave him a newfound purpose, who was I to argue. In fact, I was relieved. He was too smart, too good to fall under Galbatorix's thumb. I was glad he was getting out. I was glad he had escaped and could find his place in the world.

"The next and last time I saw him, it was after he had been corrupted by Galbatorix. It was his unveiling to the courts, like he was a show pony for that tyrant to strut around." Giles spat the words out as if they were bitter on his tongue. But then his expression turned morose. "I couldn't believe my eyes. My initial elation at seeing that he was alive was cut short by the emptiness in his eyes. That was a broken man if I'd ever seen one."

Giles took a slow breath, settling himself deeper into his chair. Hal listened with rapt attention, feeling a slow pressure build in her chest at his words and at the pain in his voice. "I always wondered what happened to him when he left my home. What happened when he served Galbatorix? I tried to reach out to him but to no avail. And I wondered if I could have done more. If I should have done more for him. But he was so stubborn. Always insisted on doing everything himself. When I saw him that day, I realized that I had lost a friend. But I wondered if I had any right to call him that for what little I did for him."

Giles wiped his face self-consciously. Hal remained still and silent, letting the man say what he needed to.

Giles unfolded the letter, skimming it once more. "I take it you are Halen."

Hal blinked in surprise, only then realizing she had not even formally introduced herself if he had to ask. "He mentions me in his letter?"

Giles didn't quite meet her gaze. "Something like that, yes."

She flushed then, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and embarrassed. Giles studied her carefully, as if perhaps trying to piece together what Murtagh may have written with what he saw before him. Oh, Hal hoped he didn't say anything foolish.

"Tell me something, Miss Halen: what kind of man would you say Murtagh is now?"

Without thinking, Hal found herself chuckling at the question. Giles' brows rose in surprise and she quickly waved her hand. "No, I apologize, I don't mean any offense. It's just…many months ago, when Murtagh and I were just starting to become friends, he asked me that exact question."

Giles didn't respond, and Hal found herself drifting off to that day. She tightened the fingers on her hand, feeling the scars from where the Ra'zac had broken them stretch at the movement, like they always did. "I was so surprised. At that point in time, the Murtagh I knew was not so different from yours: broody, arrogant, introverted, and testy." They both shared a smile at Murtagh's expense. "But he was different that day. He was happy, unburdened in a way I had never seen before. And when he asked me that question, what kind of man I thought he was, I felt nervous to respond. I didn't know if there was a right or wrong answer. But, my short answer, was that I believed him to be a good man. Even though he had done bad things, I believed in my heart — and still do — that he was a good man."

"And now?"

She just shook her head and smiled. "I will never love another the way I love Murtagh. He's changing, slowly but surely. He's finding his footing, his place in the world as his own man, just as you once hoped he would. I want to be there for every moment. Because I know he's worth it. Because I know, when given the opportunity to do so, he will fight for it. And I think you do too."

But Giles didn't look happy or seem to be in agreement. He just looked like he was lost in the past, and Hal didn't know if she had said the right or wrong thing. "I don't know what to think right now, except that perhaps you are both mad."

They both sat in an uncomfortable silence, realizing that each was holding on to an idea of Murtagh that did not quite fit how the other knew him to be. By the time Hal had met him, even though he had much of the same traits as Giles had spoken of, he had been weary and defeated too. He had been alone for so long with just Thorn to keep him from perhaps truly losing his mind. Yet for Giles, he had known a man who had not yet convinced himself that he was worthless. Even if Murtagh had been arrogant or selfish, his esteem had not taken the blow as it had after he had been forced to torture Nasuada. Hal knew that had been a turning point for him. One he was still convinced he could not come back from.

Hal tightened her grip on the material of her cloak and sighed. "To be honest, I am pushing for this more than Murtagh," she admitted. Giles watched her with a bit of intrigue in his gaze, listening carefully. "If you were to ask him, he would say he does not deserve it. Or that he's doing it for me. From the moment I met him, he has fought against my belief that he is good. He even felt guilty for wanting to be with me. Even though I have made the choice to choose him, to love him despite his past, he wavers. I admit that one day I fear he will pull away from me altogether, convinced that he is the last person who can make me truly happy despite my words and actions suggesting otherwise."

Hal bit her quivering lower lip to hide her emotions, sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders. "Murtagh sent me here, probably on the hopes that you would tell me no. Perhaps that's what his letter says." She shook her head, snorting with derision at the thought. "But that, Mr. Giles, is exactly why you need to say yes." The man raised his head, even more engaged than before. Hal pressed forward, encouraged by the action. "Murtagh has come to expect the worse. He likely believes this union will trap me and I that will come to resent him. He believes that there is no kindness in the world left for him. And I need to show him there is.

"I love Murtagh. While I may not have wanted to rush into a marriage, and while I may not have wanted one for the sake of his pardon, it does not change my feelings towards him. He needs this. He needs to know that there are people who know him as he is and will still stand by his side and fight for him. I am willing to make that commitment for the rest of my life because, married or not, I do not see my future without him in it. I believe that he deserves to live his life as a free man. But I need this too. I need him. So please, help us."

For a moment, Giles' expression was still unreadable, although his eyes had softened considerably with Hal's more personal plea for his assistance. However, his eyes darkened and his face fell into his hands as he shook it. Then, he gave her a sad smile, one that made her heart freeze with concern. She suddenly had a bad feeling. "I had hoped that, perhaps, I was wrong in my assumption. But I see now that you truly do not yet realize why he sent you to me."

"I'm sorry?"

Before Giles could respond, a bell began to chime in the distance. Hal's head jerked in surprise at the noise, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What is that?"

Giles sighed, rising slowly to his feet. "It is a warning bell. It means that an enemy has been spotted near the city."

Hal's eyes widened. Thea? But how? No, that didn't make sense. Thea couldn't possibly be here. "An enemy? But who could possibly be —"

And her entire world began to tilt, and Hal actually thought she might collapse from dizziness. And then, without warning, she leaped from her chair and raced out the door, begging the gods that Murtagh and Thorn were right where she had left them.

…

Murtagh had realized since Teirm, perhaps maybe even before, that it would come to this. But the shock of it all was harder to bear than he had expected. Because of course, Hal had no idea what he was about to do. And he had no intention of telling her. He just hoped she would understand. And when the time was right, he would explain. But Hal had stood on her own two feet just to help him get here.

Now, Murtagh would have to finish this journey on his own.

Saying goodbye to Hal had been the hardest part though. Convincing her to go into Ilirea alone was not as much of an issue as he expected. He hated to do it, but voicing his concerns about the added security, and the likelihood of him getting through the front gate, was enough to make her nervous enough to agree to let him stay behind. He had felt rotten for it, using her fear for his safety against her like that. He would add it to his list of apologies for later.

He had actually wept when she was gone. He had kissed her until she was breathless, and then he kissed her again, whispering how much he loved her, even though he had no intention of that moment being the last time he saw her. Then, when she and Shadow weren't even figures in the distance, he had fallen to his knees in despair. It was only thanks to Thorn that he was able to wrap his head around why he was doing this. But this was the only way. He had to face his demons head on.

He only hoped that his letter to Giles was enough to convince the man to stall Hal, to keep her there and then to look out for her afterwards. He knew it was unfair, asking so much of someone he had not spoken to in so long, but what choice did Murtagh have? Besides, Giles would like Hal; Murtagh was confident that his friend would take to her quickly enough to help.

Are you sure you're okay with this, Thorn? Murtagh asked. We can still get out of this.

The obstacles that face us are nothing compared to the opportunities. I agree with you, that this is the right thing to do. And I am beyond proud to stand by you in this decision.

Murtagh smiled, frightened tears in his eyes. For he could not deny that he was frightened. Terrified, actually. He could not hide behind his magic, or his name, his father, or the king. He must bare his soul, and hope that, eventually, he could be received just like the Tenari had received him.

Then let us begin, my friend.

And Murtagh had climbed on Thorn's back before the great dragon lifted his wings. He had left all of their possessions behind except for Zar'roc. He knew they would be more suspicious if he came unarmed. Better they take the weapon from him now then assume he had it hidden to strike down an unassuming soldier later.

It hadn't taken them long to reach the entrance to the city, and confusion and surprise at seeing a dragon was immediately masked by the screams of panic when they realized the color of Thorn's hide. Murtagh couldn't help it. He flinched at the sound, of what his presence had been reduced to. Panicked screams. It made him sick.

But he dismounted from Thorn just outside the gates, his hands raised high in the air. This was the part that worried him most. How quickly would the guards draw their weapons and use them? Thorn had landed far enough out that they were out of range from arrows and spears, but what about magic users? What about when they drew closer. He could hear the soldiers shouting commands, the warning bell tolling viciously. Thorn carefully folded in his wings and lowered his head to look submissive and smaller, which didn't do much. But it was all he could do, considering.

"Don't move!"

"Keep your hands raised!"

The first group of guards had rushed forward, and Murtagh did exactly as they asked. He grunted when they kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to kneel. His jaw tightened, then he let it go as he thought of Hal, of how they had spent the last few nights under the stars, as he had dared to dream of his hope for his own future.

Murtagh took a deep breath, forcing the calm he felt every moment he was with Hal into his chest now. I'm coming, Hal, he thought to himself. Just wait for me, iet dunei. Please.

…

Murtagh walked stoically towards the castle, holding his chin up as the people of the city observed him in brutal mistrust. Some hurled slurs, and even fruit at he and Thorn. But he forced himself not to react, to not even flinch out of the way as a tomato hit his shoulder. His hands and feet were shackled with chains bound by magic to keep him from using any of his own. Thorn was similarly constrained, with chains around his neck and wings, and an iron muzzle around his mouth. What felt like the entire castle army escorted them, spears and arrows carefully narrowed in on them, the soldiers weary for any sudden movements.

Murtagh hated that they went through such extremes, but it was to be expected. He hardly cared about the looks of fear and hatred, although after spending so much time with the Tenari, it unnerved him more than it usually would have. But all he could think of was Hal. He knew she would never forgive him for this, but he hoped she could understand.

The walk to the castle felt long and slow. His body was weighed down by the chains, his shoulders burdened by the hatred pouring out towards him from every angle. It felt like insects, crawling up his skin. It already felt like they had lost. There was no way he and Thorn could earn their pardon. And maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe it was the only fair price to pay for the damage he had wrought. The thought made his throat tight with despair, a familiar dark cloud encroaching on his mind.

No.

He would not give in. Not while Hal still believed in him and in their future. And if he believed in anything or anyone, it was Hal and Thorn. So long as their faith stayed true, so would his. So, he would endure this, for them.

As they neared the castle, movement from up ahead caught his eye, and he turned his head, eyes widening in surprise as he spotted Hal in the crowd. And his heart ached for her in the worst possible way at the sight of her there. She looked bewildered, like she could not comprehend what she was seeing. She was shaking her head, eyes boring into his, as though begging for some kind of explanation. He did not want anyone to see him staring at her, lest he give her away. But he offered her a sad smile and a shake of his head just as something heavy and sharp collided with his forehead, barely missing his eye.

"I hope you hang by your neck, traitor!" a voice called out, and a cheer went up through the crowd.

Thorn began to growl, then quickly stopped himself as Murtagh stumbled to a halt, the rock that had struck him falling at his feet. Hal lunged forward so suddenly, her teeth bared, that Murtagh genuinely feared she would attack and expose herself. But arms grabbed her out of nowhere and reigned her back. Murtagh was relieved to recognize Giles behind her, talking to her in hushed tones.

Murtagh looked away, unable to bear her expressions, the look of confusion and betrayal, her fear for his and Thorn's safety. His injury throbbed painfully as blood dripped into his eye. But he didn't dare move to wipe it away. As he began to disappear behind the high castle walls, he risked a single moment to take one final look back at Hal, her expression grief-stricken as she shook her head at him, as though begging him not to do this.

I love you, he wanted to tell her. I'm sorry, he wanted to add. But he did not dare. Instead, he turned his head and walked away.