Hidden away in a dark corner, Murtagh savored his victory by lifting the fresh-baked pastry to his mouth, only to have it snatched out of his hands at the last moment. Simultaneously, he received a sharp rap to the back of the head, and he swore loudly as he turned to glare at the intruder, although he already knew who it was.

"What do you want?" he snapped, glaring at the old man, Tornac, with blatant disregard and dislike. "And give that back!" He leapt for the pastry, but the man, nearly six feet, easily towered over Murtagh, who barely reached the man's hip.

"Stealing from the kitchens again, I see." And then, to Murtagh's horror, the man took a heaping bite out of what was to be his special treat.

"That was mine, what did you do that for?!"

"Because I'm bigger than you and, therefore, I can."

It was obvious the man thought it was funny, but tears of unfairness sprung in Murtagh's eyes, his face turning a splotchy red as he fought the urge to cry. His father had never liked it when he cried. But even though his father was dead, there was still that initial instinct to abide by the rules Morzan had commanded he follow. Don't cry. Don't speak unless spoken to. Yes sirs and no sirs. Murtagh was still learning to rebel, having slowly realized that no one seemed to care what he did anymore. No one paid him any attention. No one thought enough to ask where Murtagh was now that he had outgrown the wet nurses and nannies.

No one, that is, except for Tornac.

The man was chewing thoughtfully, observing Murtagh's attempts not to cry with feigned disinterest. His fist shaking at his sides, Murtagh muttered, "Just leave me alone. Everyone else does."

Tornac swallowed, shaking the pastry at Murtagh. "That right there is your problem," he chastised. "You're completely unsupervised."

"Why do you care? You don't even know me."

"I know all that I need to. I know you are the son of Morzan. I know you are an orphan. I know you are a thief—"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am—"

Tornac shoved the half-eaten pastry in Murtagh's open mouth and the boy choked in surprise just as Tornac grabbed him by his ear and began dragging him out of his hiding spot and out into the open. "You need to be disciplined before you get yourself into trouble you can't get out of," he hissed, low enough that Murtagh didn't even hear him over his grunting and muffled swears as he tried to dig his feet into the floor, hands trying to loosen Tornac's grip on his ear.

Having chewed through some of the food in his mouth before realizing he could just spit it out, Murtagh finally found his voice and yelled, "Let me go! Let me go, you crazy old man. Help, I'm being kidnapped!"

Tornac rapped his fist on the top of Murtagh's head and dug into it with enough pressure that Murtagh fell quiet, flinching at the discomfort. Then the man gripped Murtagh's arm so that he wouldn't flee as he knelt down in front of him, brown eyes hard. "Listen here, you little brat," he snapped, and Murtagh fell quiet at the harsh tone, "I'm not about to let you run around here like some street rat with no common sense. You have access to the finest library in the land, the best teachers, and the best swordsman. Clearly you have nothing but time on your hands, so I'm going to make sure it's time well-spent. If you have a problem with it, I don't care. But you better get used to this face kid, because you're about to see a lot more of it."

…

Nasuada's formal decision came down early the next morning: Murtagh's terms had been accepted. In addition to swearing fealty to Nasuada, he would face the whipping post first thing the following morning. But first, his mind would be searched this afternoon.

That seems like rather short notice, Thorn commented, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

I'm sure they need me to be able to report to duty as soon as possible. Murtagh read over the memo once again. A scribe had neatly scrawled out the conditions of his pardon as he had requested them; even the details of Hal's protection under the crown were explicitly laid out underneath. There were a few other pieces, touching upon his expected fealty, but he knew that would be a conversation for later.

Despite Thorn's obvious unease, Murtagh felt a tremor of excitement move through him. Finally. He was that much closer to realizing his goal. And he had to fight to suppress the smile that threatened to overtake him.

Have you shown this to Hal yet?

Not yet. I wanted to speak with you first. I know tomorrow will be…difficult for you. I want us to have our time to talk about what this means for us, as a dragon and rider, moving forward.

Thorn was quiet, contemplative. Murtagh waited patiently for him to speak. I won't pretend that I am happy with the circumstances. After everything we have endured, I feel like I am releasing you back into harm's way. And I do not like that you are bearing these punishments on your own.

There is no way anyone would force you to endure them. If anyone is culpable in this, it is me. It is only right that I bear the brunt of the sentencing.

No one may force me to endure them, but you and I both know that that means very little. I know you will cut our connection, but that does not mean I will not know. Not even Hal could understand it. Before you could shield yourself from me, I felt the torture Galbatorix put you through. I felt those branded irons and beatings like they were my own. You may shield me from this tomorrow — and I thank you for trying to spare me — but I will already have the memories of your suffering seared into my mind. Knowing you will be reliving that in full will not help.

Thorn's words were sobering, and Murtagh stared around the small room that would be his for one more night. I know it is splitting hairs…but this time is different. I can feel it in my bones. Our future is changing, Thorn. Every time I walk these halls, I am reminded of how far I've come since I was last here. It's empowering. Before, I was still unsure of myself. Now, actually standing in the place where I once assumed to be beyond saving…I choose to hope.

Despite the fact that Thorn was still very much wary of tomorrow, Murtagh could feel how the dragon radiated happiness through their bond. I cannot begin to describe how much it warms me to hear you say those words. You have indeed come a long way, and I am so proud to call you my rider. I, too, choose to hope. And I am very hopeful indeed.

Tucking the summons into his interior jacket pocket, Murtagh departed to meet with Hal. Although the handmaidens had said nothing after catching him and Hal together previously — and they did not seem to have told anyone else either — he was too paranoid to risk a second night in a row. Hal's reputation was shattered already, he did not want to add fuel to the fire needlessly by letting others speculate on her honor. But he had missed the feel of her by his side, and he was not too proud to admit it.

He knocked on her door and announced himself before a muffled, "It's open," granted him access. Hal was in the middle of a yawn when he stepped into the room, sitting at one of the armchairs by the fire. In front of her was a fresh tray of food and tea, and she was pouring herself a cup as he walked towards her. As he drew close, it only took him a second to take in her heavy lids and red eyes and ask, "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. Too much on my mind. Wound up wandering the castle instead."

"Why didn't you come get me? I would've walked with you."

He sat down in the other chair. Hal moved to serve him but he made a face at her and held out his hand. Shaking her head, she passed him the teapot, which he carefully took by the handle. "I knew you would be asleep and I didn't want to disturb you. And no, no one bothered me. I was left alone."

"Well, that's something at least."

Hal sighed, leaning back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap as she crossed one leg over the other. Murtagh watched her, rather liking her in the nightgown and robe, in front of a fire. He was so accustomed to seeing her as he did on Illium, but he hadn't really had a moment to appreciate how seamlessly she melded into his settings of his former life. Already he couldn't imagine walking Morzan's estate or this castle without her by his side. Nor did he want to.

"Let's have it then," she declared, pulling him out of his reverie. "What's the verdict? I know you received a memo this morning. Juliet already told me it was delivered."

His smile was wane, because he knew Hal would be as excited as Thorn on the matter. "The conditions of my pardon commence starting today, with my mind being searched, and will continue tomorrow with the sixty lashes. I will be given a few days rest afterwards and they have changed their conditions to allow me to be somewhat healed. But, assuming there are no complications, I should have my freedom, and Thorn's, within the week."

Her expression, which had been hidden in shadow when he first began to speak, grew softer by the time he was done. She studied him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Dammit, rider, I'm so happy for you."

"I know it is not the way you would have wanted it. But I am okay with this. Truly."

"I know you are. I just didn't want to see you get hurt. There are many things I cannot protect you from. And while I understand that this is more for penance and not for pardons, I had still hoped this could be one of them. But if I can't protect you, I will always support you." He smiled, and they both began to dig into their meal.

"What do you plan to do about Thea?" Hal asked after several minutes. "If they do intend to search your mind tonight…"

"I know," Murtagh responded with a grimace. "I haven't quite figured that part out yet."

"What concerns you?"

"Not being able to anticipate their reactions. Well, besides Orrin, who's made his quite clear. But their skepticism last night does worry me. I don't want to mess this up —"

"If they decline our warning, that's on them, not you," Hal said abruptly, pouring herself another cup of tea. Murtagh watched on with a faint smile, her ongoing haughty demeanor as of late surprisingly relaxing. "We'll just have to make do without. Although…" she hesitated, her expression darkening as she looked over at him. "Could they rescind your pardon? Do you think they would if they honestly believe this to be a trick? Maybe we should amend your conditions —"

"I don't want to make any other changes," he interjected gently. "I like the conditions as they are."

"Then perhaps we should consider scrying Invidia and Blödhgarm as witnesses. Or even Eragon. They can all attest to every piece of evidence we give them."

Murtagh nodded. "I can't find any reason not to, but I admit I am still hesitant to do so."

"Because you do not easily trust. And we must ultimately expose our necks and hope the crown does not see fit to slit our throats."

"Aptly put, iet dunei."

She chuckled at his response. "All I'm saying is that you are accustomed to being careful. Unfortunately, I do not think this is the time to hesitate. Doing so may work against us in the interim. We already know we will withhold my abilities and…what was done to me. Although…if I may ask you to keep one more thing to yourself?"

"Anything," he said without question.

"I don't wish for them to know about Thea's relation to me. That we come from the same village, I can handle. But if they find out she's my…"

"I understand," Murtagh stated softly, and her gaze flickered to him, her smile tight with appreciation.

"Thank you."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't do anything you were not comfortable with, or anything that would jeopardize your safety. I feel confident that even if Arya were to search my mind, I could keep such information from her."

"That's a bold claim, Shur'tugal," Hal said with a wry smile.

"Do you doubt me?" he threw back challengingly.

Her eyes danced in delight, some of the tension leaving her face. Both of their smiles widened. "Never," she assured him, her voice gentle. "I would be a fool to do so."

"Some might say that is an equally bold claim."

"Yes. Some might."

Chuckling, Murtagh leaned forward to help himself to a biscuit and jam. Hal did the same. "I could get used to having our meals served like this."

"You wouldn't miss cooking?"

"I mean, not all the time. But it was one of the things I thought about back at the estate. Although, I doubt we will ever have a full-size staff, I could still entertain the notion of having someone else hunt and prep and cook and clean three times a day, seven days a week. Imagine: I could fill that time reading or sketching. Naps…I miss naps. But I wouldn't want to give it up entirely. I would still help from time to time. The idea is nice, that's all. Especially since I don't know how to make this wonderful jam. I've put honey on bread before, but this is utterly delightful."

"You really wouldn't mind it? Staying in the manor?"

Hal shook her head. "No, I wouldn't. Although I would hate to leave Illium completely. Maybe we could split our time: spend spring and summer in the Spine, and when it's cold, we return to Illium. Assuming Thorn doesn't mind making the trek, of course. Besides, once you swear fealty to the queen, I'm sure she'll want you close at hand. The Spine is more manageable than coming from the island, and I'd rather be someplace that we can make our own and actually feel welcome."

He could barely contain his grin as he listened. "You've thought a lot about this."

She froze then, and he could tell by the way her eyes briefly widened that she was embarrassed. "Oh. I mean…I didn't mean to assume any of this. I just thought perhaps —"

"No, Hal, it's all right." He let his smile widen. "I don't mind it. I don't mind it at all. Tell me something else. Tell me everything about what you dream of, so that I may have something to hold on to as well."

Her entire demeanor brightened at his request. "Everything?"

Hal spent the next few minutes talking to him in soothing, low tones of things she would do if they were to properly refurbish the estate. For Murtagh, it was his only source of comfort. She must've sensed it, in that way that only she could, how frayed he felt, because she carried on, seemingly without pause. Some wishes were realistic, like when she talked of wanting to use the greenhouse as a means of trying to grow plants and herbs during the winter, to see if they could thrive out of the harsher elements, or to see if she could grow things native to Illium in the Spine. And Murtagh had watched at how her eyes would light up with excitement at the thought of her studies.

Other wishes felt a little more…forced.

"A painting?" he repeated, to make sure he had heard correctly. "Of us."

"Perhaps. One to replace that depressing image of your parents. I do intend to burn it, just so you're aware. If we are to use that bedroom, I will not have Morzan's beady eyes looking down on me with contempt."

"You would never sit still long enough for a painting."

"I could, if I wanted to."

"You would not want to. You would probably insult the artist and tell him you could do a better job."

"I probably could," she muttered, and Murtagh burst out laughing, only for it to be cut short by a hard and heavy knock on the door. Hal's lively expression turned immediately cold as Murtagh rose to his feet. The doors were thrown open without any sort of formal announcement.

Soldiers filed in, only four. But they were still armed and menacing, glaring at what must've looked like a rather cozy set-up for Murtagh with utter disdain. The soldiers stood in a row, their backs straight and their shoulders squared with attention. Behind them was Arya, whose appearance was much more at ease, although she had a serious gaze about her. Lest anyone think it was safe to let their guard down.

"Good afternoon, Murtagh. Halen." They both acknowledged her quietly. "Murtagh, I'm here to escort you where you'll be searched. In case you haven't already figured it out, I will be the one performing today's task."

He chuckled dryly. "I had a hunch." He looked over at Hal, and she quickly tried to hide her nervousness by plastering on a forced smile. Murtagh leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I'll be back soon."

"Actually," Arya said quickly, "we would like to ask Halen to accompany us as well."

Murtagh immediately became defensive. "Why?"

"Because yesterday you said that there was a Shade running around, as well as Ra'zac, and you are both key witnesses. We would like to question Halen as well on what you know."

"We know the same thing," Murtagh retorted. "You don't need us both."

"Murtagh, it's all right," Hal said gently, the back of her hand brushing against his. "I'll go."

"This wasn't part of the agreement," Murtagh seethed, eyes narrowed at Arya.

To his surprise, she agreed with a curt nod of her head. "Nonetheless, your queen has issued an order."

He ground his teeth together. This was a power move. It wreaked of that bastard, Orrin.

"Fine," he spat.

The handmaidens were called and everyone stepped out to give Hal a moment to change. When she was ready, she stood beside Murtagh in the hallway and took his hand. Arya led them with two guards behind her, Hal and Murtagh, and then the final two guards bringing up the rear. Murtagh and Hal both kept their eyes forward, led down a series of spiral stairs that spat them out somewhere near the back of the castle, which was more private. Only select nobles of importance would be here, and it's likely that this would be where Arya, Orik, Orrin, and Roran were staying. The front was often busier, with the castle staff running about, vendors bringing supplies and shipments for the kitchens, fabric and cloths for the monarch's personal tailor, and more. Here though, it was steadily quiet, with only high-ranking staff and officials, and select guards allowed to roam so freely, like the head steward or Nasuada's lady-in-waiting. In fact, her private apartment would likely be on the top floor by the keep, with the best view of the kingdom in the entire castle. Hal was clearly engrossed by the elaborate detail, which seemed even more refined in this space where there were less eyes to appreciate it.

When they finally reached their destination, they were standing in front of a non-descript door. One of the guards stepped forward and knocked loudly, opening the door to announce Arya, Murtagh, and Hal respectively. They filed inside, and the guards closed the door behind them, remaining outside.

Nasuada was seated in an elaborate chair made of a deep green plush and trimmings that appeared to be gold. There was no desk or table in front of her, but the chair was still situated on a platform to show status. While not quite a throne room, it wasn't quite a study either. There were no bookshelves, and the windows were less elaborate than the ones in the other room she had spoken to them in. The chandelier above their heads was well-lit to make up for the lack of natural light. On either side of Nasuada sat the rest of the council, and Arya took the only other empty chair right beside her. Which left Murtagh and Hal to stand. He tried not to hiss in distaste. This would not be a short discussion, even under the best circumstances.

"Murtagh, Halen, thank you for joining us," Nasuada began after they rose from their respectful bows. "In accordance with the memo you should have received this morning, we are here to conduct the first part of your conditions that must be carried out with approval of the council, in order for you, Murtagh, to earn your pardon. I trust you found everything detailed as discussed. Do you have any concerns or conflicts to raise?"

Besides forcing Hal to endure this droll? "No, your majesty."

"Good. Then we will begin, effective immediately. First, you will begin by telling us the names of the two credible witnesses you referred to yesterday."

All right then. If that's how they wanted to do this. "Blödhgarm, son of Ildrid the Beautiful, and Invidia, daughter of Gael."

Arya sat up at attention. Before she could speak, Orik frowned and said, "What exactly are you trying to accuse the elves of here?"

He heard Hal make a low sound and he knew without having to see her face that she was already annoyed. "We accuse no one of anything."

"Then how is it that two of my best, who were last seen sailing away with Eragon nearly six years ago, wandered up on an island in the opposite direction?" Arya asked, sounding less suspicious and more confused and surprised.

"In fact, how did you wind up on Illium, Morzansson?" Orik asked.

"I'd be happy to start from the beginning, if you will let me speak," Murtagh stated, keeping his voice plain. "But if that is to be the case, I would like to request two more chairs for Halen and myself. We're going to be here a while."

…

By the time they were returned to Hal's room, Giles was half asleep, sitting on the floor with his head back against the door. With a tired chuckle, Hal bent over and nudged him gently in the shoulder. "Wake up, Giles."

Snorting, he flinched with surprise, staring at them both stupidly before he finally seemed to remember where he was. "About damn time!" he roared loudly, suddenly getting to his feet. "Where have you two been? I've been sitting here for hours."

"We were only just released," Murtagh explained, reaching for the door handle.

"They questioned you both this entire time?"

"Aye."

Inside, a fire was going, and Hal dropped down in one of the chairs. Murtagh gestured for Giles to take the other. His back was too stiff from the contraptions they had brought forth for him and Hal to sit in, and he desperately needed to stand for a bit longer.

"So…" Giles hedged nervously, eyeing on how weary and unhappy both appeared. "Did it not go well."

"It went perfect," Hal explained. "After a while, anyway. They were not keen to hear what we had to say at first."

"Did they think you were lying?"

"More like they hoped we were," Murtagh corrected, throwing his arm up against the mantlepiece. "But the proof we had was sound."

"Well then why do you both looked like someone you love just died?"

Murtagh saw the way Hal flinched, and so did Giles. His expression shifted to horror in realization. "Ah, dammit. I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn."

"No, it's all right, you didn't know."

"I take it then, that the real reason you're here, is because something bad happened?"

Hal looked at Murtagh, her brown eyes searching his. He could read her expression clear as day. He nodded, showing that he understood. "I think it's only right that we tell you the whole truth as well Giles. You deserve to know, after all you've done for us."

He looked ready to protest, but he saw Hal smiling softly at him and clammed up. "All right then," he said. "I'm all ears."

Telling the story once had been hard, especially with the council members picking apart every detail, raking over their memories with sharpened picks. Certain pieces were creatively omitted. They left out Hal's torture by the Ra'zac completely, not wanting to give any reason for the others to question why they would have been focused on her to begin with. But overall, they bared themselves and the reality of their situation, and their plea for help and resources. Then, Murtagh had had to relive it when Arya searched his mind. And she was especially difficult and precise. He knew that if he made one slipup in shielding certain memories from her, everything would unravel. He had to remain calm and focused, which was hard to do when he was watching again and again the attack on both the Xano and Tenari villages.

But with Giles, the truth came easier. Perhaps it was because they had already said everything once. More than likely, it was because Giles was a kind and sympathetic ear, who stood and moved to hug them both when they were done.

When they pulled apart, Hal laughed nervously, tears splashing unexpectedly down her cheeks. He was glad they at least had not searched her mind again, although she had been rather severely scolded for hiding such details. Yet, even as Orik and Orrin both demanded she be searched again, they were surprised when it was Roran who insisted otherwise. It did not take much to spot how distressed and worn Hal was by that point, and Murtagh was grateful, if not still indignant she'd had to relive such things at all. Especially in front of strangers.

"Have you two eaten?" Giles asked, glancing between them both with concerned, blue eyes. They shook their head, and Murtagh realized then just how famished he was as his stomach growled at the thought of food. "I thought not. Get some rest. I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourselves. Meanwhile, I'll try to locate some leftovers in the dining hall for you."

"Thank you, Giles."

"Yes, thank you."

When they were alone, there was a heavy silence that filled the room. Murtagh stepped closer to Hal and wrapped his arms around her. She fell into him, holding on tightly as she buried her face in his chest.

"Let's never do that again," Hal mumbled.

He snorted, kissing the top of her head. "Agreed."

He could hear the pause in her voice, hear the way she tensed briefly in his embrace before speaking. Whatever she was about to say, she was expecting an argument. "I'll go with you tomorrow as well."

"No, absolutely not."

She reared back, and he let his arms fall to his side as she stared up at him, incredulous. "Why not?"

"Hal…" But he couldn't finish what he wanted to say.

"I don't want you alone," she continued, keeping her voice steady.

"And I don't want you to see me like that," he rebutted, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his outright rejection. In this, he would not budge.

Her nostrils flared with momentary anger. He was right. Hal had been preparing for pushback. But after a few seconds in which she just stared at him, her shoulders dropped along with her expression. "I was prepared for your 'no.' I admit though, that I thought your main reasoning would be because of what happened to me."

Murtagh stepped closer, placing his hand at the top of her neck and letting his fingers feel for the first scar just below. Hal stiffened, then shivered at his touch. "That is part of it, yes. However, you are strong, and I don't want to insinuate otherwise. No, I would not want you to endure anything further that will open painful memories for you. But truthfully, I just…I just think it's for the best. So much of my ugliness has been exposed to you first-hand these last few days. Please. Let me protect you this one time. And I promise, I'll never ask you to leave my side again unless it's for your own safety."

"You promise?"

"I promise." And he repeated himself in the ancient language, which was somewhat comforting. Seeing that she was content, Murtagh then said, "If I may ask of you instead: would you remain with Thorn? I do not want the two of you alone waiting, and I know tomorrow for him will be especially difficult."

Hal looked even more pressed, but only because she had not thought of that herself. "Of course, I will. Of course."

"Thank you, iet dunei."

Before she could respond, he swooped down and kissed her. One, out of gratefulness. He didn't think a lifetime with Hal would be enough to thank her, but he had a plan to try. Two, because his nerves were still frayed from today and were frazzled in anticipation of tomorrow. Even if it was just for a moment, Hal eased those feelings. Like feeling weightless and untethered before she pulled him back down to where he could feel the comfort of the ground under his feet.

Suddenly, the bedroom door was thrown open and Giles strolled in proclaiming, "All right, I found — oh."

Hal and Murtagh, who had taken a moment of realization to jump apart, were blushing and hot with embarrassment as Giles eyed them teasingly. "All that's to say," he said slowly, dragging the words out, "I have food."

"Thank you, Giles," Hal said, shooting Murtagh a shy smile before taking a step towards the cart. But Murtagh didn't like being interrupted, and he hardly cared since it was Giles. He reached out and quickly snatched her wrist before she got too far, pulling her back in to finish what they had started before being interrupted. It was only a few more seconds, but it was enough to properly satiate him before he finally pulled away.

Hal seemed even more flustered, trying and failing to hide her smile as she and Murtagh wandered over to where Giles stood waiting for them, grinning broadly at Murtagh. They ate in slightly better spirits, content with the warm tea and full bellies after a long day. When the distant bell chimed the hour and they realized how late it had gotten, the mood turned heavy once more.

"I should go get some sleep," Murtagh finally said, rising to his feet after they had finished stacking their dishes back on the cart.

"Aye," Giles agreed. "I'll meet your first thing."

Murtagh shot him a grateful smile. Then he kissed Hal on the cheek before heading back to his room.

You should try to get some sleep as well, Thorn, Murtagh said, feeling the dragon touch his mind as he climbed into bed.

I'll be tired eventually. But I can feel how anxious you are. I will stay with you until sleep as well.

Murtagh knew better than to argue. Admittedly, he was also grateful for the company. It feels surreal, he said after a while. This time tomorrow, you and I will be free.

Thorn could feel the real reason for Murtagh's excitement and reciprocated in kind. I'm so happy for you, my rider. So very happy. I know the road has not been easy, and I know the future is still not certain. But you have become someone those who love you can be proud of. I know I am.

Murtagh felt his chest swell with pride. Not just because of Thorn's words. But because finally — finally — Murtagh knew without having to be told. Thorn, Hal, Giles, the Tenari back home…it felt good to hear such positive things from them and to feel in his chest that they were genuine. To not have to question the how or why. To simply accept their love that he had spent so long telling himself he did not deserve felt like something worth celebrating. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, he would have more than just his pardon to look forward to.

Perhaps finally, things were starting to look up.

…

Murtagh's hands were shaking so terribly, that he could not even do the buttons on his tunic, and he gave up on the effort entirely. Collapsing on his bed, he felt something — maybe vomit — climbing up his throat. In less than thirty minutes, he would have to stand before the people he once considered his enemies and endure this final punishment. Despite how ready and prepared he'd thought he'd been yesterday, he got almost no sleep. Because suddenly he began to wonder: what if this wasn't enough? What if this didn't end the way he hoped it would? Did he really deserve to be pardoned? His humiliation, his shame, threatened to overwhelm him in a way it had not for a while. And he couldn't quite figure out what had changed between last night and this morning.

He dug his fingers into his trousers, the same black pair he had been supposed to where the first time before they had realized there was a mob at the gate. Despite the momentum of the vision he'd had for himself that carried him this far, he suddenly felt the shock of running full speed into a stone wall. And it left him breathless and smarting. How could he face Hal again if he did not earn this pardon? What would happen to Thorn if he never knew the true freedom that had been denied to him from birth? What if all of this trapped Hal in a life she did not want for herself and she came to resent him? There was so much, he realized, riding on this hope of approval that, now that he was so close, the failure felt more imminent.

Coming here had been a mistake, he was realizing. Maybe, Hal was wrong about him. Thorn was wrong about him. He was not amazing or brave. He was unlucky. And surely, this moment right here, would be when his luck ran out on him once again.

"Luck? Bah. Only fools and idiots rely on luck. And I did not raise you to be either."

Murtagh couldn't bear to raise his head, his eyes fixated firmly on the floor. "What would you know?" he hissed, hearing how petulant he sounded. "You're dead."

Tornac clocked Murtagh on the top of the head. "Lucky for you I am, all the damn trouble you've caused. I'd have put my boot so far up your ass you wouldn't be able to ride that damn dragon of yours for weeks."

Murtagh felt a creeping, helpless dread consuming him, aware that this conversation was a complete fabrication. Yet, the only person he wanted to talk to more than Hal was Tornac, and some small part of him took comfort in this projection of the first person who ever looked at him as just Murtagh, and nothing more. "I can't do this, Tornac," he whispered, his eyes burning with a sense of dread at the admission. The same fear he had felt at the manor was returning. The same weakness.

The old man stopped pacing and whirled around, his expression full of disbelief and outrage. "I know I didn't raise you to be so cowardly, Morzansson. In all the years I've known you, I've never met a more stupidly stubborn boy than you. How many times did I knock you on your ass in training?"

When Murtagh didn't immediately respond, Tornac smacked him in the back of the head again. "Hundreds," Murtagh hissed, feel a kindle of familiar irritation.

"Thousands," Tornac corrected snobbishly. "And tell me, what did you say was your sole motivation for getting back up again?"

Murtagh clutched his hands together tightly as though in prayer. Licking his lips, he admitted, "So that I could pay you back by one day knocking you flat on yours." He felt his lips twitch at the memory.

"And did you?"

Murtagh finally dared to raise his head, meeting Tornac's steely and expectant gaze. "No."

"Of course, you didn't," Tornac said, his face breaking into a cocky smile that made Murtagh's chest ache. "You never could've bested me, boy."

He sniffed. "If you were still here today, I probably could have."

Tornac's expression softened and he dared chuckle. "Of that, I have no doubt." He moved to sit down beside Murtagh on the bed, but the cot didn't sink because there was no weight to be felt. Still, Murtagh could have sworn he could feel his old master's shoulder brushing against his.

"You have faced worse and overcome," Tornac reminded him. "If today does not end in the outcome you want, find another way."

"I need this pardon," Muragh said through gritted teeth. "There is something I need to do, and I cannot do it until I am free."

"You can do it," Tornac corrected. "You just choose not to. Why is that?"

"Maybe it's for the best. Maybe I am rushing into this. Maybe…maybe, I want this more than she does."

"I know that not even you are that stupid to believe that."

"Perhaps I am," Murtagh countered bitterly. Then he shook his head. "Everything I've done, I've done so that I could have this moment. It has to be this way," he told himself for the umpteenth time. But for the first time, not even he believed it anymore.

"You're telling me that if you are told no, you will not pursue what it is you want most because of that? You will let this derail your one wish for the sake of your pride? Because if that is the only reason, then perhaps you are not as ready as you think you are."

Murtagh felt his throat clench, words escaping him as the reality sunk into his gut. He ran his fingers through his hair and Tornac sighed beside him. The old man leaned forward, his demeanor full of remorse that rolled off of him and onto Murtagh. And Murtagh felt his eyes burn at the unfairness of it all. "I wish you could be here with me," Murtagh admitted. "I have felt so lost without you."

He looked over at his old master, the eyes just as he remembered them. The man let his shoulders droop as he reached over to grip Murtagh's. "I have never left you, my boy. And you are not lost. You are afraid. Do not give up this fight just yet. You didn't with me. Even if you did not beat me as you wished to, you still grew stronger, resilient, determined, and brave. I would not have you any other way."

Murtagh's eyes burned, his heart full of both grief and love. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Tornac vanished as quickly as he had appeared as Hal stuck her head in. Her eyes betrayed nothing at Murtagh's half-dressed state, and she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. They didn't speak as she approached him, and he realized that she was also wearing the dress she had worn when she arrived at the castle. And she looked regal and beautiful, the material moving as she did, the deep green lovely against her skin. Her hair piled high in a neat and elegant bun.

"I thought I might come see you before I go meet Thorn," she explained, standing before him and reaching down to do the buttons on his tunic. Smoothing down the material of the shirt, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Murtagh just shook his head. "A little ill, to be honest."

"Is it the lashes that worry you?"

"No. Well, yes. It's not as though I'm looking forward to them." He rubbed his palms on his pantleg. "It's being surrounded by all these civilians and soldiers who despise me. It's the fear that they will change their mind and revoke my pardon. It's the idea that this may have all been for nothing."

"Even if this doesn't go the way we want, it was not for nothing," Hal argued gently. She sat down beside him, leaning forward to push his hair back from his face, her fingers gently tucking the strands behind his ears. "We told them about Thea and the Ra'zac. You have shown them that you are a changed man, and that that change is ever-growing. We have shown them that even in the face of adversity, we will not be bullied. Those things are not nothing, rider. This day, these last few days — weeks even — have marked a new beginning that will determine the rest of your life as your own man. Not as the son of Morzan or Galbatorix's slave. But as Murtagh. You have so much to be proud of. So be proud. And if that is hard, then at least choose to hope."

He didn't respond immediately. She moved off the bed but, instead of standing, she kneeled down before him, reaching for his boots. Biting down shyly on her lip, she lifted his left foot into the appropriate boot, fastening it before doing the other. Seconds past like minutes, as Murtagh watched her with a flutter in his stomach. When she was done, he rushed forward and grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into a hasty kiss. It wasn't long or deep, but his nerves grew smaller, less overwhelming. He pulled back, letting his nose brush over hers. He wanted to hold on to this moment, memorize the tiniest of details, while they were alone.

But the moment was not meant to last.

Hal flinched and turned her head towards the door, her expression falling with disdain. He knew then that someone approached. Moments later there was a jarring knock on his door and a deep voice called his name before the door was thrown open. Hal and Murtagh climbed to their feet as a group of soldiers filed in. Giles, at least, was with them, looking thoroughly annoyed and concerned already. Roran was leading the soldiers. Like Arya when she fetched them yesterday, Roran's expression was neutral, almost kind. Murtagh realized then that the man didn't seem nearly as invested in this as the others, having hardly said two words the entire time.

His legs felt like lead as he took a step forward. He nodded to Giles, grateful that he would have at least one familiar face in the crowd today. Giles nodded back and Murtagh looked then to Hal, who watched him with a sad smile.

"I choose to hope," he told her.

Her smile widened, nodding her head. "I choose to hope too, Murtagh." She leaned forward, holding his cheek as she kissed him, uncaring of the soldiers or Roran watching. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He walked towards the soldiers, feeling a little bit braver. They stood in two rows, and Murtagh was to walk in the center, with Roran leading. He felt like a prisoner; the only thing missing were the irons. Roran studied him for a moment. Then, to Murtagh's surprise, the man said, "I respect what you're doing here, Morzansson. It's the right thing."

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he just said, "I'm ready."

As they began their walk, however, Murtagh felt a nagging tug in the back of his head. When he looked up ahead, leaning against the wall and staring at him, was Tornac. His old master wore that brazen look of superiority that Murtagh hated. Because it meant that Tornac was challenging him. In this instance, he was daring Murtagh to do the one thing he was holding back from doing. The one thing he had told himself that he needed this pardon in order to accomplish.

"Hurry up," a soldier barked, his face shifting into irritation at being kept waiting. Murtagh realized then that he had stopped moving, everyone watching as if expecting trouble. He turned back around to look at Hal, her eyes wide with concern. Before he could lose his nerve, Murtagh turned on his heel and stalked back towards her, ignoring the soldiers who protested, quietly grateful when Roran silenced them.

"Halen."

She raised her brows nervously. "Murtagh."

He couldn't help but smile, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. He opened his eyes to find her studying him, her smile hesitant. "I could not have gotten this far if not for you," he told her, his voice low with tenderness. "I have been telling myself, from the moment we have left the estate, that I needed this pardon in order to achieve a goal I believed more important than anything else happening in my life right now."

Hal nodded to show that she was listening. "Of course. But Murtagh—"

"Please, just let me say this," he said quickly, knowing that he picked the absolute worst time to do so. She looked like she wanted to argue, glancing at the impatient soldiers behind him. But she nodded and he took a deep breath. "I told myself I needed to be stronger, in order to stand by your side. I admit that I believed that this pardon would be that first step. That if I were free, truly and properly free, then it would lift the guilt and the shame that haunts me. And there was something that I desperately wanted to ask you once I earned my pardon. Because I thought it would be better that way for both of us. A way to start anew, and with hope, just as you said.

"However, I realize that what I want to ask you is more important than my pardon. Because I realize that, with or without it, you will still be here. By my side. Always." She smiled and nodded. "If I keep telling myself that I must have this pardon in order to have you, then I am doing you a great disservice."

"Okay," Hal said slowly, happy with what he was saying, even if she still did not quite understand.

One of the soldiers snapped, "I'm not going to ask you again, Morzansson. Hurry up!" But as he stepped forward, Roran held out his hand and stopped him.

"Murtagh whatever it is you need to tell me, maybe it should wait until later —" Hal began.

"Halen, will you marry me?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the world around him, except for Hal, fell away. It was quiet, peacefully so, despite the stillness that had settled between them as Hal's shock took a moment to register and then wear off.

She stared at him a moment, dumbfounded as his words slowly began to process. Her eyes began to turn red from unshed tears that she was fighting to keep at bay. She swallowed thickly, staring at him as though he had grown a second head. "I don't understand."

Murtagh smiled, a warmth and joy radiating off of him. Because he could see in her eyes everything he already needed to know. He pulled her in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Marry me, Hal."

Her sob was sharp and heavy as she began to cry, her lower lip trembling. "I'm so confused," she whispered. "I thought…I thought, because of the pardon, that you didn't want to."

He shook his head. "I do want to marry you, Halen. Properly. Not out of obligation or desperation. These last few months, it has been so clear to me, so very clear. And I cannot wait any longer to ask you. You are my greatest love, Halen. I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you. If you will have me?"

She inhaled a choking sob, having been holding her breath the entire time he had been talking, as though she would miss something otherwise. She began nodding, struggling to catch her breath as she said, "Yes. Yes, of course, I will have you. All of you." Her face broke out in a smile brighter than any he had beheld before. She seemed to radiate a light all her own as she looked up at him. "Yes, Murtagh, I will marry you."

He wrapped his arms around her head and kissed her hard, which she returned, her tears wetting his cheeks. It felt like sealing her answer in a promise, and a weight lifted from his chest as her words instilled a new life in him. Like coming back from the dead.

He pulled away from her, but Hal struggled to let go of him, still crying. Teasingly, he brushed her tears from her cheeks and said, "You are so sensitive, little kitten."

She laughed, as he walked towards the soldiers, pulling her along until the last possible moment. He turned and looked at her, how she smiled at him with such affection and joy. He seared that face into his mind. She had said yes! Despite the fact that he was still, by all accounts, a criminal, she had still said yes. She would have him as he was, and that was enough to lift the pain that had been causing him so much distress for so long.

He regretfully began to pull away, wanting nothing more than to yank her back in for another kiss. The warmth of her hand began to fade from his, her fingers brushing along his until they were completely separated. She began to laugh with joy, crying even harder as he stepped away. Roran was grinning, but his face became a mask when he caught Murtagh's gaze. The other soldiers looked disgusted, and Murtagh was so thrilled that he genuinely didn't even care.

As he continued back down the hall, soldiers marching instep around him, he spotted Tornac leaning against the wall, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. But he nodded his head at his student, grinning proudly before disappearing as Murtagh turned to face his fate head-on.