Murtagh had never had less motivation to leave his bed than he did right now. Hal was curled up against him, her head tucked under his chin, her fingers intertwined with his. It felt like a dream, a small bit of heaven after what had felt like an unending nightmare. She had fallen asleep a few odd hours ago, in the middle of chastising him. Her voice had been getting heavy with exhaustion, her words slurring together. Finally, he had pulled her into his arms and reminded her that he wasn't going anywhere. She could continue to berate him in the morning.

Her breathing was light and even, and he could feel her smooth heartbeat against his own. She had fallen asleep in her dress, but she hadn't seemed uncomfortable. Too tired to even think about taking it off. She hadn't even seemed bothered by how small his bed was — more reason to tuck herself against him. Murtagh tried to keep his own movements steady, not wanting anything to disturb Hal and wake her.

So of course, that meant someone knocked heavily and suddenly on the door. Murtagh hissed in distaste and Hal moaned. "Rider?" she murmured as Murtagh carefully and regretfully extracted himself from the comforts of her embrace. He kissed her temple and said, "Go back to sleep, Hal. It's nothing."

But he could sense that she was waking up, wary and cautious as he pulled on a tunic before answering the door. On the other side of it were two women he had never seen before. One had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a youthful face. She was probably only a few years older than he, but with a petite figure that put her several inches under him and Hal. Next to her was an older woman whose eyes narrowed in on him immediately with dislike. Her lips were pressed together in a fine line, her dark eyes clearly unhappy. Between them was a silver cart of food that looked nothing like the meals he had been forcing down for the last month, and he suddenly cared little for whether or not these women liked him so long as they were delivering proper sustenance.

"Murtagh Morzansson," stated the older woman.

It wasn't a question, as she clearly knew who he was. Still he answered, "Aye."

"My name is Merida. This is Juliet. We have been assigned by her majesty as you and Miss Halen's handmaidens. We could not find Miss Halen in her assigned accommodations —"

Murtagh hesitated, trying to quickly prepare some kind of lie or stall. Hal, however, did not seem to care as her arms slipped themselves appeared from behind him. "I'm right here," she said unabashedly. Murtagh knew by her expression that it was intentional.

"Ah," was all Merida said.

"That's wonderful!" Juliet said, her tone overly cheerful and forced, but at least she was trying. "We wouldn't want your food to get cold. Here, we brought a fresh breakfast up from the kitchens."

Hal's eyes widened and her stomach growled lowly. She flinched, embarrassed, stepping the side. Merida and Juliet worked quietly and quickly, setting out poached eggs, sausages, biscuits with butter and jam, bacon, a kettle and teacups, and more. It all looked so silly, in his cramped little room. But that only meant that the smell filled the space quickly, and his mouth was watering soon after.

"This looks amazing," Hal breathed as the two women stepped back. "Thank you."

The handmaidens barely smiled, but thankfully Hal didn't notice, too busy poking a fork at the smoked salmon and truffle. Juliet noticed and her eyes brightened a bit as she tried to hide a giggle, and Murtagh forced himself to relax. He could not stress himself out worrying about whether or not Hal was liked. He just needed to make sure she was safe. But it was hard to watch stranger's eye her with such trepidation. Without him, he knew they would have adored her.

"Before we go, her majesty has also asked that you and Miss Halen join her and the other members of your pardoning council for supper tonight at seven sharp. Juliet and I will return promptly at five to help you both get ready. Until then, you are welcome to roam the castle grounds as you see fit. Her majesty has already informed her guards of this and has given them strict orders that you are not to be disturbed."

Merida recited her declaration without missing a beat. Murtagh nodded. "Thank you for letting me know." When no further announcement immediately followed, he said, "Well, if that's everything, you both are dismissed."

Hal watched the exchange with curiosity but said nothing until the door was firmly shut behind them. "I think my being in your bed nearly gave the older one a heart attack."

"Probably." He sat down beside Hal on the bed, already tired, but now aware of how hungry he was. "Did you sleep all right."

She set her chin on his shoulder and looked up at him with a soft smile. "I did. You could say it's the best sleep I've had in a month."

Murtagh didn't bother hiding how pleased he was at her comment. "Even though you are mad at me?"

"Yes, even though I am mad at you. I'd much rather be cross with you by my side than somewhere where I cannot gauge if you are safe or well. Now eat. Your stomach is composing ballads and it's grating."

…

They waited until Giles was dismissed before all agreeing to take a stroll outside to visit Thorn. They walked slowly, Hal having threaded her arms through Giles', as he was still a bit sore even though his injuries had been fully healed. But his pace was more due to exhaustion rather than injury. The same reason Murtagh had wanted Hal to get as much sleep as she could, especially since she refused to let anyone heal the bruise around her eye. "Let them see it," she had told him, her tone hard with no room for argument. "Lest they think I'll forget what has happened here."

The day was nice, albeit there was a sharp wind in the air. But it was cloudless and sunny, and there was something reassuring about the weather in the wake of all the uncertainties before them. When they neared the large overhang that doubled as a place for the dragon's, they all froze when they saw that Arya was there, seemingly talking with Thorn and a green dragon. Thorn looked up and saw them, then jerked his head as if urging them to come closer.

"I hope you don't mind, Murtagh Morzanson," Arya said with a small smile. "I came here to check on Fírnen —" she gestured to the green dragon — "but could not help but properly introduce myself to Thorn. I did not want our past encounters to muddy any potential alliances. He speaks so highly of you, and of Miss Halen. He makes for wonderful conversation."

"Thank you," Murtagh said nervously. He had never actually spoken to the elf before, not even after Eragon had saved her. It seemed like such a distant part of his life, rescuing her from Gil'ead and racing across the Hadarac ahead of the troops. How differently his life could have turned out if he had trusted his gut instead of his heart and left Eragon while he still could. Then again, if he had done that…

Hal had slipped out of Giles' hold to run and wrap her arms around as much of Thorn's nose as she could reach. The dragon nudged her affectionately, his low hum felt under their feet. He could tell by the way she closed her eyes that she was talking with Thorn privately. Murtagh turned away, although he was aching to know what they were discussing.

"She seems better," Arya commented softly, her eyes on Hal.

"She is strong," Murtagh replied, "even though I unintentionally asked her to carry a heavy burden by embarking on this path."

Arya studied him for a moment. "You know, when I first received Nasuada's letter informing me that you had turned yourself in, I was rather confused. Nearly six years you've been away. And not only have you suddenly appeared, but you have come quietly, seeking pardon."

Murtagh listened with bated breath. He did not know what to expect from her or this conversation. Giles had stepped away to offer them privacy, and Hal was waving him over so that he could meet Thorn. But Murtagh was aware of how all three of his comrades occasionally looked over at him, as though to make sure he was okay, tense and ready to interfere should they sense his distress. And that made him smile. Such love and support remained remarkable to him.

Arya had followed his gaze, her expression kind. Murtagh did not know her well, but he would be remiss if he did not think that she was different from how he had expected her to be. His only real dealing with elves had been Invidia and Blödhgarm, whose personalities could not be more different. But there had always been something aloof and distant about them, especially at first. He supposed he should expect much of that from Arya as well.

"You have changed, Morzanson," Arya commented.

"And you can tell that from a two-minute conversation?"

Her smile widened some. "You must not have realized how defensively you used to stand in company you did not trust. I remember watching you when Ajihad allowed you to fight in the battle at Farthen Dûr. How you kept mostly to yourself, unless Eragon was around, of course. You were stiff and guarded. Then, later on the battlefields, you had this look about you. This…anger. Even Eragon thought you were beyond saving."

Murtagh felt his throat constrict. "I thought I was too."

"I admit, you were the last person I expected to help us defeat Galbatorix. But without you, we would have suffered a devastating defeat. Despite your many transgressions, I have not forgotten that. Nor how you once fought on our side, and saved my life at risk of your own."

He felt himself sway on his feet, feeling a prickling sensation that he refused to acknowledge. Not when he had no reason to trust or believe. "Why are you telling me this?"

Arya looked at Fírnen, running her hand down his emerald scales. The dragon nudged her affectionately. "I believe that the man I thought I knew would never have risked himself or his dragon for a pardon. That act alone shows maturity and growth beyond what I believed you capable of. Sometimes, I forget how full of surprises humans are." She stepped back, then added, "I will continue to watch you carefully, Morzanson, for I do not yet trust you. But for now, consider me an ally in your attempt to earn your pardon. I wish you the best of luck."

Stunned, Murtagh could only nod his head as she walked away, Fírnen at her side. He felt a mix of confusion, doubt, and gratitude all at once. He had no inclination to trust her word, but he could not see why she should lie to him. And he had a feeling that whatever conversation she'd been having with Thorn must have also heavily influenced this little speech.

"Everything all right?" Giles asked as Murtagh walked over to join his friends, scratching the back of his head as he still tried to process the conversation.

"I think so. Arya basically said that she's on my side as far as the pardon is concerned."

"Can we trust the word of an elf? I've heard they can be sneaky."

"We may not have much of a choice," Murtagh admitted, going over to Thorn, who hummed again in delight at seeing him. "But it does not hurt us to believe her. Once my hearing commences, we shall know the truth soon enough."

Giles stood there for a moment, then he broke into a rather nauseating grin that made Murtagh roll his eyes. "What, Giles?"

"Nothing," the man said, the lie obvious. "I'm just still trying to figure out what happened to the Murtagh Morzanson I thought I knew. This imposter is scaring me a bit."

Murtagh felt his cheeks redden, but he could not help but feel pleased at the remark. If Giles could see such a noticeable difference — and Arya, who knew Murtagh even less than Giles did — then maybe he really was changing for the better. Not that he ever doubted Hal. But hearing it confirmed from additional sources was reaffirming. Especially when those sources had seen him at his worst.

Giles eventually announced that he was to meet with Nasuada's contact in order to give them the list of things to bring back for him and Hal from Giles' home. Murtagh jumped up, adding, "Just a moment. I'll walk with you, Giles."

Only when they were far out of earshot of Hal and Thorn did Murtagh stop and turn to face his friend. Giles stopped as well, and before he lost his nerve, Murtagh blurted, "I owe you an apology as well, Giles. A thousand apologies, actually. I brought you into this mess with no warning, and after all this time…it was an unfair ask. I'm so sorry that you got hurt because of me."

Giles was nodding slowly. "Yes, it was unfortunate. But if I wanted no part in it, Morzansson, I wouldn't be standing here."

Murtagh raised his head in surprise.

Giles shook his head. "You should've heard the way she advocated for you," Giles said, gesturing back to Hal. "That woman would move mountains for you. I hope you understand and appreciate the depths of her affections. It is a rare and beautiful gift."

"I know," Murtagh said quickly. "I do, I know. And I know I could never apologize enough for what I've done—"

"It's not about what you say, you idiot. It's about what you do, how you do it, and why you do it." After a brief pause, Giles said in a softer voice, "When she first came to me, I told her I wished there had been more I could've done to spare you the cruel fate you suffered. I wished I had reached out more when I saw that you had fallen victim to Galbatorix."

"Doing so could've gotten you killed. Why do you think I rejected your letters?"

"Speaking on your behalf could've gotten Hal killed," Giles countered. "Yet, as frightened as she was — and believe me, Murtagh, she was terrified — she stepped forward anyway. Because that is what it means to care for someone. To put their needs above your own. Despite your asinine behavior, you are someone I care about. Always have been. You deserve this pardon. You deserve the peace and security that this pardon will provide you with. Things that have been wrongly withheld from you long before you were forced to swear fealty to Galbatorix."

Murtagh's expression was soft with appreciation. "Thank you, Giles."

"Oh-ho, make no mistake. I will hold this over your head until my last breath. You practically owe me your first born."

"I will be sure to let Hal know so she doesn't get too attached to the child," Murtagh deadpanned. Giles reared back in surprise, then shot him a taunting grin. "What?" Murtagh asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You and Halen have talked about having children?"

Murtagh frowned, then his face grew unbearably hot when he realized what his previous comment had implied. "No, wait, that's not what I meant. I was just making a joke."

"But you see yourself and Hal having a family?"

Murtagh's face was horrifically red as he tried to think of something to say. "I've…we've never discussed the matter."

Giles saw how uncomfortable Murtagh was growing and held his hands up. "Relax, I was just innocently curious. I didn't mean to put you on the spot, I swear. I just got caught up in excitement of you having found someone who is just…someone you seem destined to be with. I'm happy for you, is what I'm trying to say. And whatever makes you happy, I will support."

Murtagh nodded, feeling some of the tension leaving his chest, although his cheeks remained warm. "Thank you, Giles."

By the time Murtagh wandered back over to Hal, his face, he was certain, had returned to its natural hue, flushed now only from the cool air. She watched him as he approached. "Thorn tells me your magic has been suppressed?" she said by way of greeting.

"Aye, but I'm hoping it'll wear off soon." Seeing the concern and doubt on her face, he quickly added, "These kinds of drugs don't often last long, and I don't think they've been adding it to my food since yesterday's breakfast, which I skipped. I feel more clear-headed every hour. Since I'm able to talk with Thorn again, I'm sure it's only a matter of time now."

She took a deep breath through her nose, the exhaled smoothly through her mouth. "All right then, if you're sure."

"Something on your mind?"

She snorted, her gaze elsewhere as she crossed her arms. "What isn't on my mind, Murtagh? I feel like my head will not keep silent. I cannot make sense of my own thoughts and yet for some reason my brain conspires to continue thinking." She was quiet a moment and Murtagh waited anxiously.

"I was really scared yesterday. Terrified, actually, of what might have happened to us. I thought coming here was our only option…I feared trying to stop Thea with the country still seeing you as its enemy would mean fighting a war on more than one front. Yet it feels like that is what we are up against regardless. My head is a constant barrage of thoughts and questions, and I do not have the capacity or patience to add to that the wounded cries of the court when Thea could strike at any moment. And I feel so stupid saying this but…maybe it's best if we leave. Sneak away in the middle of the night and regroup. Find another plan of attack like you wanted —"

Murtagh reached up to take Hal's face in his hands and she fell silent, looking increasingly stressed. Her cheeks were cold to the touch, and he imagined his hands were as well. But she didn't flinch or move away. "Is that what you want, Hal? Because if you tell me right now that you don't feel like we can go through with this, I will whisk you away from here faster than you could call me 'rider.'"

Tearful laughter bubbled up from her throat, but Murtagh kept his face stoic so that she did not doubt him. She bit down on her lip, blinking quickly and shaking her head. "I don't want to run away," she admitted, sounding frustrated with herself. "I don't want these people thinking they chased me out after less than a day. But I worry about how long this pardon will take. I know you warned me and yet I did not listen, and now I do not trust Nasuada or her people to be proper allies to us in the fight against Thea.

"But dammit, I want this pardon for you, Murtagh. I feel like I am taking the cowards way out —"

"You are doing no such thing," he assured her. "What you are speaking is nothing more than pure logic. In terms of priorities — stopping Thea and protecting each other — the logical choice after what we have witnessed would be to leave and regroup as you said. Yes, allying ourselves with Nasuada would benefit us, but it's not a guarantee. It is a call we have to make: stay and wait and hope for the best, or leave and wait and hope for the best."

"I regret telling you that we could not continue to sit on our asses in the Spine," Hal muttered with a pitiful pout that made him smile. "I do not remember the last time I felt so tired. I know in my gut that we haven't even come close to realizing how much worse this can get." She shook her head again. "I don't know. I guess I'm just trying to find my peace of mind now while I can. And right now, you and Thorn are my peace of mind. I cannot bear to watch what you have both endured here so far. It does not sit well with me, rider. It doesn't sit well with me at all."

Murtagh could help himself, and he could tell that Thorn was thinking the same thing based on the wave of heartfelt emotion felt across their connection. His lips stretched into a smile, warmth blossoming in his chest despite the cold.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. "I do not know what is to come. But I do know that I am so grateful to have you here. The last time I walked these grounds…Hal, he is someone I hardly recognize anymore. He would have never had the strength or courage to do what I have done. He would have never taken a chance that could just as easily result in failure as it could success. He was too set in his ways. Too frightened. But you changed that. You changed me. No matter what happens here, you have nothing to be sorry for, and nothing to be regretful of. I won't let you."

She seemed uncomfortable at the thought. "You won't let me, huh?"

He shook his head.

Hal released a slow breath and smiled. "Fine. If you say so."

"I mean it Hal: I'm glad you're here. We both are." He kissed her forehead before pulling her into his body, both for comfort and for warmth. They stayed with Thorn up until the last possible moment. She caught them up on her ventures with Giles, and Murtagh could not help but laugh at how terribly well their personalities had clashed and come together.

As they were heading back in, Hal looped her arm through his. Without looking his way, she said, "I must ask, although I hope it is not rude of me to do so —"

"You know you can always ask me anything," he reminded her. "You have earned that much."

Her grateful smile earned her one in return. "If I may then, how are you faring since returning to this place? I know Morzan's estate was hard on you, but you were so young when you left. You lived your life in these walls. You experienced so much more here. It must be…jarring to be back."

He blinked, rather surprised and touched by her question. Murtagh glanced around them a moment, letting his mind fall back to all the years past. It wasn't just the memories of this place that unnerved him. It was the feelings. His own arrogance and selfishness, his hatred and violence. And yet, there were fond memories: sword fighting with Tornac, pranking Giles, or the first time he had allowed himself to experience the full effect of his newly-formed bond with Thorn. Jarring was certainly an apt descriptor to use to encompass how he was feeling.

"It is hard to face the reality of what I have done," he admitted in a low voice. "Being within these walls again reminds me of all of that. I can barely look Nasuada in the eyes when I see her I —"

He cut himself off, his emotions momentarily getting the best of him. That vile shame and guilt of his crimes towards her. "It's not as if I was not bothered by my actions before. But it is one thing to be ashamed of them away from the place where they were committed. It is another to listen and see for myself the damage I caused. Nasuada, Orik, even Morgan and his nephew. And they are just a few of hundreds. Thousands even. I had thought I was close to forgiving myself for what I had done. But how can I do that if the people I hurt don't forgive me? What will I do then?"

Hal considered his question carefully. "It's hard for me to say. Obviously, it's not our place to tell others whether or not you deserve to be forgiven. Sometimes, I think the best we can do is demonstrate that we are truly apologetic, that we are willing to do the work required of us to change and be better than we were before. Some may forgive. Others may just understand. Some may not do either. But so long as you feel like you have done all you can, then there's nothing more. At least in my opinion."

His grip on her tightened in sudden panic, although he did his best to keep his expression and voice neutral. "And if I fail?"

"Failure is part of life, rider. So long as you are doing all that you can to do what is right, you will never see me anywhere else than by your side. You will always have me."

Murtagh thanked her with a sweet kiss.

As they walked into his room, they were greeted by a freshly pressed suit laid out for him on the bed. Curious, Hal ran her hands over the silk tunic, the pale buttons carefully stitched so that they almost seemed to blend with the material of the shirt itself. The pants were made of a dark fabric that was soft underneath her hands. What was most impressive was the double-breasted vest, with a notched lapel made of a crimson that matched Thorn completely. The buttons were made of gold, and there was a swirling pattern imprinted into the fabric itself.

Murtagh sighed. "They must mean business then for dinner. Come. If they've provided me with attire, I'm sure they have laid out something for you as well."

Sure enough, when they entered Hal's room, they found an elegant gown waiting for her. Hal breathed, shocked that such a thing could be meant for her. It was a v-neck, one that would not stoop too low on her chest. Still, was a bold choice for a neckline all the same. Hal did not mind it because in the heat of Illium, the women were less pressed about revealing skin. But it had not taken her long to notice that the mainland was very different, so she was surprised to see it as an option. Perhaps the fashion of the court was different from its citizens. The sleeves were made to appear light and loose around her arms, the material a bit sheer for aesthetics, before gathering around her wrists with a high cuff. It would be fitted around her waist and hips, the rest of the skirt flowing from there towards the floor. Her dress was a soft yellow, almost gold, that she knew would serve to make her complexion stand out while also serving as a delicate contrast to the red in Murtagh's.

As if they had been waiting, there was a knock at the door. Before Hal or Murtagh could move or answer, it flung open to reveal the handmaidens, Merida and Juliet, from before. They appeared no less apprehensive than they had that morning, but there was a new level of resolve in their gazes as they fixated on Hal and Murtagh.

"Good afternoon to you both," Merida said, taking charge once more as she bowed her head, Juliet following her lead. "I take it you both had a restful day."

"Yes, thank you," Murtagh answered. "I take it you are here to help Halen get ready for tonight."

"You would be correct. Now, if you do not mind, I will come by later to assist you as well."

"Of course. I'll get out of your way. Hal, I'll come back to walk over with you."

Hal blinked in surprise, realizing how subtle Merida's command had been. It was neither rude nor condescending, but simply a firm request. Before she could speak, Murtagh leaned over and kissed her cheek before seeing himself out. When the door closed behind him, the two handmaidens surged forward. "Goodness, we are behind schedule," Merida muttered. "Juliet, go get a bath started, will you. Let's get to work."

The next couple of hours were a flurry of activity and pampering. Hal felt rather helpless, but was fascinated enough by the process to not protest the handmaidens, who quickly began to move as if on instinct. After her initial hesitation due to not wanting to reveal her scars, she finally submitted and allowed the two women to strip her down. If Merida or Juliet had anything to say about them, they kept their thoughts graciously to themselves. They didn't even bat an eye. The first bath was to rid Hal of the first layer of dirt and smell on her skin. The second allowed for a slightly longer soak, as the women scrubbed at her skin and filed down her softened nails. Hal snorted with laughter at the feel of the pumice on her heels, and she could've sworn she saw Merida crack a smile. They washed her hair and Hal, who hadn't had anyone wash her hair since her mother when she was a child, fell into a trance as they massaged her scalp.

She was allowed privacy for a longer soak afterwards, letting the sweet, floral-smelling oils imbue her skin. But she was not allowed to remain in for too long, lest she begin to overly prune and wrinkle, according to Merida. Hal insisted on patting herself dry, dressing in a silk robe they had provided her before stepping out.

"You are quite beautiful," Juliet, the younger woman, told Hal with a shy smile. "I can see why the Master is quite taken with you."

"You can just call him Murtagh," Hal said, blushing furiously, stunned by the sudden compliment. "But thank you."

Juliet smiled. She had moved Hal over to the vanity where she set to work brushing and combing Hal's curls, which were still a bit damp. Juliet didn't seem to mind, humming quietly to herself as she worked. She pulled strands of the hair into braids on either side of Hal's head, twisting them down as far as she could go. Then she began to criss-cross the braids in the back, pinning them carefully as she gathered the rest of Hal's hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. It seemed like a tedious process, but Juliet's fingers worked quickly. She pulled a few strands loose around Hal's ears and temple to frame her face.

"You two won't have to do this for me every day, will you?" Hal asked. "Not that I don't appreciate it," she added quickly, afraid of causing offense. "I just imagine that you both have more important things you could be doing."

"No Miss, this is our duty. We serve whomever the queen tells us to. It's no trouble at all."

But Hal noticed how pinched Juliet's voice had gotten, and she imaged no one had been clamoring for the position of serving her and Murtagh, whom Merida had gone off to assist moments before.

"Alright, let's get you in the dress and see how it fits. This way, Miss."

In front of the full-length mirror, Juliet graciously turned her back while Hal stepped out of her robe and into a silk chemise. Then Juliet helped her step into the dress, pulling it up gently so as to make sure it did not accidentally tear or stretch, especially over her thighs and hips. When her arms were through the airy sleeves, the handmaiden quickly began to fix up the buttons in the back. As the dress became fitted to her form, Hal felt a pleasant thrill race through her.

"My goodness," Hal breathed, disbelieving as she turned every which way, examining herself from different angles. She couldn't tell if it was the dress or the hair. For she looked no different, really. Yet there was a glow about her that seemed new. Her skin looked smooth and, as she had predicted, luminescent thanks to the gold in the dress. Her hair somehow softened her cheekbones, widening her eyes. "Thank you," Hal breathed, unable to look away from the mirror. It felt nice, to be this taken in with herself. Back home, she was often running around, after children, after food, then there were her training sessions, working in the fields…except for special occasions, she never gave her appearance much thought. No one did, really. Not when the day-to-day work was so demanding. She knew it wasn't a constant, so she wanted to appreciate it as much as she could now.

When Merida walked in, she clapped her hands at Hal's appearance. "Absolutely stunning, Miss. Absolutely stunning."

"You two did all the work, I can hardly take the credit."

"Here," Merida said, producing a pair of shoes with low heels. "Put these on. Hurry now. Master Murtagh is outside waiting for you now."

Despite having never worn heels, these were low and comfortable enough that Hal found them relatively easy to walk in. But she did a few turns around the room to make sure. Hal felt almost eager for Murtagh to see her. The dress was the finest she had ever worn, as were the shoes. It was so out of character for her, it was almost laughable. The hem was the perfect length — Hal didn't even have to worry about lifting it as she walked. And the skirt moved as she did, but with a refined grace all its own. She had to refrain from twirling in it.

There was a knock at the door, and Murtagh poked his head in to check on her. She could not help but smile before his reaction had even registered. He looked like he was about to say something when his eyes landed on her, widening in initial surprise before slowly drifting down her body in a pleasant and teasing sort of way. He straightened up, his gaze never leaving her. Hal bit her lip nervously, feeling a kindling in her stomach at the look.

When he drew in close, she felt his hands on her neck, cupping her as he tilted her head back, his thumbs brushing against her jaw. His eyes shone in the evening light, his cheeks flushed as he shook his head. "Heavens, Hal," he whispered. "You make a man forget how to breathe."

"My, aren't we poetic," she teased. "You don't look so bad yourself, Shur'tugal."

An understatement, really. Like her, Murtagh looked like he had been scrubbed of at least a layer of skin — Merida was lethal with those brushes — and his hair had finally been trimmed, his ends evened out and back to hanging just below his jawline. His waistcoat fit him even better than Hal had expected it to, and the most lascivious of thoughts raced through her mind. He looked like a man of the court, and he looked just as comfortable as he did in anything else Hal had seen him in. And it was that natural ease and confidence he carried that made her lose her head a little.

She pretended to be flattening one of the lapels just for an excuse to touch him. But something in his gaze shifted, his expression falling a bit. "Merida, Juliet," he said, "can you give us a moment please?"

The handmaidens bowed and left, unbothered by the sudden dismissal. When the door was closed, Hal faced Murtagh with concern. "Is everything all right?"

He nodded, then hesitated. "I think so. I just…" He moved, sinking down into one of the plush chairs by the empty fireplace. "I think I might actually be nervous. And not the good kind of nervous."

Hal walked over to him and sat down on the arm. "There's a good kind of nervous?"

"Aye. Like how I felt when I wanted to tell you that I loved you."

Hal smacked her lips, but didn't bother hiding her pleased smile. "All right then, and what's the bad kind of nervous?"

"The kind where you must sit down and share a meal with the people you once swore on your name to try and kill, and beg for their forgiveness so as to not forfeit your freedom, which they hold in their hand." He took an uneven breath. "I just needed a moment alone with you. I just wanted to gather my wits."

Hal moved to cross one leg over the other, leaning against the backrest as she took Murtagh's hand in hers. She knew that there was not much she could say to ease his nerves. He had a right to feel unsettled at what awaited them. But she did not want to leave him with nothing.

"I can't remember if I've said this yet," Hal said in a low voice, "but rider, I need you to know that no matter what happens, I am so bloody proud of you. And even if we don't get the response we want today, I will keep fighting for this."

He smiled down at her. "You have told me, and I know. Thank you, Hal. And thank you for staying by my side. There is no one else I'd trust."

"Well, that's obvious, rider, you are rather hopeless without me." He chuckled at that. "The worst they can say is no. But even then, I do not think Nasuada would carry out any major punishment. Despite the unease I feel, that does bring me some comfort."

"Aye, agreed. Although, I have a feeling that I will be propositioned in some way, and my response will determine whether or not I am pardoned."

"You think they want to offer you some kind of deal?"

"I think they expect me to take it."

Something in his tone gave her pause before she realized what it was. "You know what they want."

He glanced back once more to make sure the door was closed. Despite their privacy, he still leaned towards her, lowering his voice. Hal leaned down to meet him. A shadow had crossed his face, his expression troubled. "I expect that they will ask me to swear fealty to Nasuada. Eragon had to do it, but he is gone now. Arya is not under Nasuada's rule, she is merely an ally. And if any dragons have hatched in the last few years, they would not be close to ready to be presented as ambassadors."

Hal sat up, stunned, although his words made sense. "Eragon hardly had any training before they put the fate of the country in his hands. Why would they suddenly want this new batch of riders to have extraneous years of training?"

"For the same reason they have magic users on a registry: they need the people to believe they are in control. After Galbatorix, if the citizens suspect for even a moment that another dragon rider or magic user is using dark means to gain power, there will be anarchy. I do not think it would take much to exploit that weakness in the kingdom. Nasuada is smart, she knows this. The people will likely assume that I am here to do just that if they cannot quickly demonstrate that I am under the control of the crown."

Hal shivered at the thought. "But why would they need you as the face of the riders then? Doesn't that seem a little…"

She couldn't finish the statement, feeling guilty at the thought. Murtagh grinned at her, showing no hard feelings at all as he finished it for her. "Counterintuitive, considering I'm the only face of Galbatorix's reign left to despise?"

"More or less," Hal said with a wry smile.

"I agree. I'm sure they would try to play it up as though they were able to force me into submission. I would be a glorified show pony."

"Then we say no," Hal said quickly, rising to her feet to stand before him and set her hands firmly on her hips. Giles had used the same phrase — 'show pony' — to describe how Galbatorix treated Murtagh. She was loathed for him to experience a repeat of such a thing. "No, absolutely not."

"I may not have a choice, iet dunei."

"We always have a choice, rider," Hal argued back. "Your choice is not to submit yourself to another crown. And if they dangle your pardon, your freedom, over your head and make you jump for it, then they are no better than Galbatorix!"

They were both quiet a moment, each surprised by her outburst. Murtagh rose to his feet, his expression showing that he was not upset. Hal sighed, running her hands over his lapels again, smoothing the already-smooth material. "You are allowed to be a little selfish. Just because you are trying to right a wrong, does not mean you have to submit yourself to something you don't want. If your heart cannot be in this five, thirty, or a hundred years from now, then perhaps it is not the right choice, or the right time. But all I will say is this: you owe them nothing, Murtagh. You must earn their trust, it's true. But they must also earn your loyalty. Do not give it away for nothing."

He raised his hand to her face, his fingers taking the loose pieces of hair and tugging on them gently. "You always know just what to say to bring me peace. You always have."

"Always? Really?"

"I may not have always wanted to hear it," he added with a grin, and Hal chuckled. "But even then, you somehow knew."

She gave him one last encouraging smile before turning towards her bedroom doors. "Chin up, Dragon Rider. And show them who Murtagh Morzansson really is."