"He's awake and ready to see you now," said the healer, giving Hal a warm smile and nod of her head.

"Thank you."

The woman moved aside, holding the door open for Hal. The infirmary, she realized, was very different from the private room they had given Murtagh after his whipping. Perhaps because of the security risk involved while he was recovering. This room was much larger, with multiple beds that were all empty except for one.

"Young man, you have a visitor," said the healer, announcing Hal.

The soldier from yesterday looked up from his tray of breakfast, eyes widening at the sight of Hal, who nervously stepped forward. Now that she wasn't fighting for her life, she could properly see that he couldn't be that much older than her and Murtagh. He had dark brown hair and eyes that were gentle as he took her in with the same apprehension.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," Hal began, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. "I wanted to come and thank you properly for saving me yesterday."

He swallowed the food in his mouth, self-consciously wiping his face on his napkin before speaking. "You didn't have to come all the way here just for that. But all the same, you're welcome."

"Of course I had to come. You're in the infirmary because you were trying to help me." Unless, Hal suddenly realized, he was regretting having done so. She imagined that no one but Murtagh would've exactly mourned her passing. Perhaps the man was even worried that others might now retaliate against him.

Hal didn't know, but that thought made her eyes burn. Perhaps she had overstepped, coming to offer gratitude. She doubted her words meant much of anything to anyone here. She forced a smile on her face. "Well, that's all I came here to say. Do take care."

She turned, eager to make a hasty retreat, mortified by how poorly she had read the situation. But he called out, "Wait!" just as Hal had to jump back, suppressing a scream of surprise when the door was thrown open in front of her, narrowly missing colliding with her face.

"Get up, you lazy piece of — oh no!" The young man on the other side caught Hal, who was clutching her chest and realized what he had done, his blue eyes widening in shock. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I was coming to bother my brother, I had no idea he had a visitor."

"Nice going, Albriech. Real smooth."

"Shut it, Baldor."

"No, it's all right, you missed me," Hal said quickly, the scare having at least manage to get rid of her urge to cry. "I was actually just leaving. I just came to thank…uh…."

"Baldor," offered Baldor.

"Yes, Baldor," Hal repeated. "I was just thanking him for yesterday. I don't mean to be a bother."

"I'd heard rumors that you had been involved," said the brother, crossing his arms over his chest. Hal realized that he stood around the same height as Murtagh, with broad should and thick arms. She glanced at Baldor and noticed a similar physique. Were both brothers soldiers then? They certainly seemed to be, even out of uniform. "Are you all right?"

"I am, thank you for asking."

"Good, I'm glad." His smile seemed sincere, and Hal found herself smiling back.

"As am I," Baldor added, and Hal turned to look at him, rather surprised. He stared back as if he had known exactly what she had been thinking before. His expression softened and he gave her a kind smile that reached his eyes. "The way some of our comrades have been treating you has been reprehensible. I know it doesn't make up for things, but I am sorry that you've had to endure such behavior."

The blonde-haired man was nodding along with almost every word, and Hal felt a small weight being lifted. "Thank you. That truly means a lot."

Just then, the door behind them opened again, and this time it was Roran who stepped in. He seemed surprised to see Hal, but he gave her a bright smile. "Halen, good morning. I just left her majesty's morning briefing and Murtagh mentioned you might be here."

"Aye. I just came to thank Baldor for yesterday. And I had the pleasure of meeting his brother…Albriech…?" — he nodded, affirmative — "Albriech, as well."

"Excellent. And I'm glad to see you're on your feet."

"Thank you."

Roran's expression slipped then and he clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze becoming more serious. "I spoke to Murtagh privately earlier, but I want to speak to you as well: it may not mean much coming from me, as I have the lowest titles of nobility amongst Nasuada and her allies, but I do not condone the actions that were taken yesterday, even if I understand the urgency behind them. I speak from personal experience, and maybe that is why it's hard for me sometimes to think as the rest of our leadership does. But I have a family I'd do anything to protect, and I once thought I had lost that. So Murtagh's fears yesterday…I've been there. And until you're with that person again, it's an unending nightmare of whether or not they're okay. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, and I'm sorry you and Murtagh had to endure that."

It took Hal a moment to realize she was quietly crying, and she quickly moved to wipe her face. "Thank you for saying that. It does mean a lot to hear. To be reminded that there is kindness to be found here."

His face seemed to sadden at her words, but she could tell he understood just why she said it. "I won't hold you up. I'm sure, Roran, you had a reason for being here anyway. I'll be seeing you, I'm sure."

She bowed her head respectfully and hurried out the door before someone else walked in. Despite having first been upset that perhaps Baldor had regretted saving her life, now she felt paranoid that instead they all just pitied her. The poor, naïve girl who hadn't known what she was getting herself into by latching on to one of the most hated men in the country.

Hal hated it. Because, in some way, they would be right. And for that, Hal hated herself.

In a fit of panic, feeling the pressure rising in her chest, Hal hesitated in the middle of the hallway. Scrambling at the limited options available to her, she took a chance and threw open the closest door. What little luck she did have these days was on her side now, because it was nothing more than a storage room, dark and empty.

The second she knew she was alone and out of the way of prying eyes, Hal slid to the ground and burst into tears. No part of her blamed Murtagh or even his past. He had even warned her, and it's not like he had been untruthful with how he had been received before. There was no misconception to be had as to what she should've expected. It wasn't even the worst thing to happen to her in the past year.

And yet…

The emotional strain she'd been feeling these last few weeks had finally been severed yesterday. Everything was just too much. She wanted to curl up in her bed at home. Or even be sitting around the table with Murtagh and Denu, laughing about everything and nothing. She wanted Denu's smile and his wit, to tease him one last time. She wanted to go hunting with Amon, Cado, Eli, Sam, and Ayo. She wanted to see the little ones, watch how they grew before her eyes. She missed her village, her home, where the people had been as warm as the sun itself. She had never, never, had to question the abundance of kindness she had received from the moment she washed up on their shores.

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

But it was more than just the physical comforts of home she craved. She wanted it how it used to be. Before she knew her sister was a Shade. Before Denu's death and the attack on the Tenari. Before it all. She had thought she could be strong enough for Murtagh, suppress her feelings to get him through this pardon and everything that might follow. Instead, she was unraveling in a supply room closet.

Suddenly, there was a faint knock on the door, and Hal clamped her hand over her mouth even though she knew it was too late. "Is that you, Halen?"

She recognized Roran's voice, and felt her face burn even hotter. Although, at the moment, there wasn't really anyone she wanted to see her like this, not even Murtagh.

"Halen, I'm coming in."

"Wait —"

Roran swung the door open, and she berated herself for not locking it, only having a second to move away or risk falling backwards since she had propped herself up on the door to begin with. Hal stared down at her lap, trying to hide her face as Roran squatted down to her level.

"I'm sorry, Halen. I realize that while my words earlier came from a place of sincerity, they probably also felt a bit 'too little too late' all things considering. My feelings on the matter don't change what you've endured. What Murtagh has endured. And in some ways, I've been complicit because I haven't voiced my concerns on the matter until now."

"It wasn't what you said, honest." Hal wiped at her cheeks. "It's just been really overwhelming, these last few months. Yesterday just sort of…pushed me over the edge, if you will."

Roran sat down completely. "That nasty Shade business, right?" Hal just nodded. "And Ra'zac as well?" She nodded once more. He made a low sound of distaste and said, "I was really hoping we'd seen the last of them. I know how foul they are. I hate that you had to go through that."

She felt her eyes start to burn again as she stared down at her scarred hands. Thought of Celia, and the countless others. What was she doing? Crying like a child because people she had no attachment to were being mean? She was here only because people she did care about had been terrorized and killed. Their entire plan was to use Nasuada for her resources — why should Hal be upset for getting used in return? So long as it all served a greater purpose, Hal shouldn't complain. Besides, she'd rather endure being hated by the people of Ilirea than anything else up she'd had to put up with up until the point.

Hal shook her head. "You don't have to do this." She closed her hands into fists, her scars stretching in a reminder of what worse pain looked like. She looked at Roran. "I'll be fine, honest. Like I said, I'm still a bit overwhelmed is all."

"What is it that you think I'm doing exactly?" he asked, his confusion genuine.

"Pretending to care. Looking out for me. I assure you, I'm fine. I don't want to hold you from your other duties."

"Is that what you think I'm doing? Pretending to care?"

She could hear in his tone that she had inadvertently insulted him, and quickly tried to backtrack in order to explain herself. "I only meant…" But she fell quiet, unable to think up a lie quick enough that would cover her own ass. "I did not mean any offense, my lord."

Roran's expression became exasperated. "I don't…you don't have to call me that. Honestly, I care little for titles. I am grateful to them, as they were a gift from her majesty at the end of the war that has allowed me to provide for my family. But I was raised the son of a poor farmer. I am perhaps one of the few people of status in this castle who did not grow up in this life."

Hal's face was hot as she said, "If it's any consolation, I stuck my foot in my mouth when I was first getting to know Murtagh as well. And we still managed to get along."

That made him smile.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he rose to his feet first, then helped Hal to hers. "Thank you," she said. Then, clearing her throat, she added, "If I could be so bold as to ask a favor of you?" He nodded, listening. "Don't tell Murtagh about this."

Roran smiled. "Because he worries for you so easily, huh?"

Hal tried to return the sentiment, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No. Well, yes, he does. Practically always has. But no, I don't want him to conflate my feelings with thoughts of regret or resentment. I don't mind that he worries for me, but I do mind the thought that he blames himself for what I've endured. He's aware of how people see him, but he grew up forcing himself not to care. Thorn and I, he feels, don't deserve to be lumped in with him even though we have proudly declared ourselves to him. He doesn't want people to know it, but, he's actually quite sensitive."

She had leaned in and whispered this last part, like it was a secret, and Roran snorted with laughter before controlling himself. Hal stepped back and held her hands behind her back. "I want him to be able to focus on what he needs right now. He'll always worry about me, but I need him to know he's allowed to worry about himself too. And right now, he needs to figure out how to make this pardon work so we can fight this Shade, go home, and get married. I can take care of myself. And I will, for his sake."

Roran's smile softened. "Aye. Then I won't say anything to him. I'll do what I can to help in your mission."

Hal breathed, grateful. "Oh, that reminds me: you wanted to tell Murtagh something back when he was still in the infirmary. Did you ever get the chance?"

"Oh, no, but that's all right. I can tell him later, it's not important."

"Well, if you're sure, then. But I should get going — I'm supposed to meet with Giles who's been helping me review rules and etiquette for the upcoming banquet. Murtagh is familiar with these things but I have no proper training whatsoever."

"Of course, I won't hold you up."

Hal bowed once more, departing quickly with a breath of relief that she managed to hold it together. She hoped it wasn't too noticeable that she had been crying. However, she was relieved that her conversation with Roran had helped remind her of the perspective she was missing. Murtagh was working hard, doing his part to ensure they could find a means of defeating Thea, even if it was a slow and unruly process. Hal wanted to make sure to pull her own weight as well. He may always be insisting that he wanted to be someone fit to stand at her side, but Hal knew she had to earn her place too.

She'll be damned she let that dragon rider get ahead of her. He'd never let her hear the end of it otherwise.

…

Giles and Merida were in the middle of quizzing Hal on the names, titles, and territories of various nobles — sketches of their faces rendered in a book Merida had found in the servant's quarters for added support — when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" shouted Hal, not tearing her eyes away from the book as she bore Lord Tolbert of Belatona's face into her mind. Belatona was a city known for its impressive craftsmen, and…heaven's she did not care.

"Uh-oh, I know that look." Hal made a face as Murtagh appeared at her side, kissing the top of her head. "Are you still prepping for the banquet?"

"I'm attempting to," Hal sighed. "I've been around the Tenari for so long, it never dawned on me that I was awful with names." He snorted and Hal quickly elbowed him in the side. "You laugh, but apparently it's an acquired skill."

"I already have more than half this book memorized." He commented, flipping through the pages.

Hal reached out and slammed the book shut, narrowly missing his fingers as he jerked them away. Giles snickered, failing to hide it behind his cough that quickly followed when Murtagh shot him a look. Grinning, Hal asked, "Did you need something? I thought you would be in meetings all day getting caught up."

"I am. Nasuada gave me a break while she dealt with other matters."

"And you came to see me? Aren't I special."

"Are you finished?"

"Aye, for now. Why, did you need something?"

She had gone back to her notes, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, she looked over at him. "Murtagh?"

His expression seemed distant, sad even, and Hal wondered where he was. What past he was seeing as he looked at her, tucked her hair behind her ear? On his own, he seemed to snap out of it and gave her a soft smile. "Come with me, for just a moment. I'll bring her back," he added to Giles and Merida.

"Take your time, Master Murtagh."

"Aye, we've been going at it for hours. My ass needs a break from these pompous cushions." Merida made an appalled face as Giles stood to rub his backside for emphasis.

"Charming as ever," Hal teased as Murtagh took her hand and pulled her to her feet, leading her out into the hallway. To her surprise, Roran, Baldor, and Albriech all stood waiting. Good heavens…had Roran…?

He saw her panicked expression and, grinning, subtly shook his head. She relaxed. Okay, so he hadn't told Murtagh about her breakdown earlier. So then why were they here? Had Murtagh forgotten she'd already gone to see Baldor?

"Hal," Roran began, "I would like to formerly introduce you to Albriech and Baldor Horstsson. In light of recent events, as well as your and Murtagh's high positions moving forward, they volunteered to be your personal guards. Nasuada and I have approved, as has Murtagh. They may seem meek, but I assure you they are capable soldiers."

Vaguely aware that her mouth was open, she quickly closed it before she seemed rude or stupid. Hal glanced between the two brothers in rampant confusion. "I'm sorry for not knowing, but what exactly does a personal guard entail?"

"Essentially they would provide security. Aside from private matters, they don't leave your side and they answer only to you."

Hal's head was spinning. "It hardly seems fair that Baldor, who has already risked himself for me, should be forced to do so for…how long does this last?"

"Until they are released from their services by you."

She looked to Murtagh, wide-eyed with disbelief. "And you were all right with this?"

She realized the answer as soon as she had asked, but she still needed to hear him say it. She touched his mind, waiting until he granted her entry before asking, Be honest, rider.

It was something we all agreed upon. Most nobles and royals have security details —

But I am not either of those things. This feels…I don't know if I'm comfortable asking two men I've just met to risk their lives for me.

I know, trust me, I do. When the topic was broached, that's what I told them. But Hal…I was miles away from you yesterday. Miles. If Baldor had not come along when he had, I could've lost you. This is one way in which I can add even a fraction of support to ensure that you are safe when I'm not with you, and I won't hesitate to take it.

She could almost hear the desperation in his voice. Knew how frightened he was. And it was no small thing, she knew, for Murtagh to be trusting anyone besides himself or Thorn with her life. This thought made Hal hesitate. She knew Murtagh would have his own means of confirming whether or not Baldor and Albriech were truly worth the effort — he may have already done so if he was bringing them to Hal for approval. And while she was hesitant to trust them, she did trust Murtagh.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the brothers and Roran and said, "All right. I'm willing to give this a trial run. Perhaps, just a few weeks or so, to gauge if this is something I'm comfortable with. During that time, I'd like to talk to you both, get to know you. Some people may feel differently, but I should at least know something about you if we're going to be spending so much time together." She glanced at everyone around her. "Is that acceptable? Did I overstep?"

"No ma'am," said Albriech, grinning. "Not at all."

"We look forward to working with you, Miss," Baldor added.

"Please, call me Halen."

"Thank you both, again." Murtagh held out his hand.

Hal beamed up at him before turning her smile to the two brothers, who bowed their heads in her direction after each shaking Murtagh's hand. "Well, I'm sure you two are busy," Hal prompted to Roran and Murtagh, unsure of how long of a break they had before they were expected again. "If that's everything…"

"Actually, Murtagh, there is one thing I've been wanting to talk to you about," Roran said suddenly. "And Hal, I suppose this sort of involves you as well since you two are engaged. Baldor, Albriech…"

The two men nodded and stepped back to give them room to talk privately. Roran cleared his throat, his cheeks somewhat pink with nerves. "I realize that perhaps this is an odd time to say this," he began, scratching the back of his head. "But it feels stranger continuing to say nothing, so here goes. I don't know if Eragon mentioned to you, at all, Murtagh, but he and I are cousins. Selena was my aunt; her brother, Garrow, my father. So…"

Hal eyes widened in surprise, then, admittedly, excitement. She hadn't even imagined his news was something like this. However, her smile faltered when she felt Murtagh grow tense beside her. "We're first cousins then," he finished. "No, Eragon did not mention it. I didn't realize he still had family."

"Ahh. Well, yes. I thought perhaps it best you knew. Not that you have to do anything with this information. I just thought you should know. I didn't want you to feel like it was something I was intentionally keeping from you for any reason."

Murtagh swallowed, clearly at a loss. "Thank you for telling me," Murtagh said, his voice stiff. Roran looked rather embarrassed as Murtagh stalked off into Hal's room.

She gave Roran a sad smile. "I know that doesn't seem promising, but Murtagh…his mother, if you know what happened, is a sore subject."

"I've since learned," Roran admitted, looking almost stricken. "About how she took Eragon and Murtagh was left behind. I didn't mean to open those wounds —"

"You didn't," Hal assured him quickly. "It's complicated. I don't think he's angry at you. But his life was irrevocably changed by the decision she made. I imagine it's hard to learn that the decision meant he was also denied from knowing his family. But do not feel bad for saying something. I'll talk to him, he just needs time, and maybe some space. I'm sure he'll come to you when he's ready."

Roran didn't quite look convinced, but he nodded to show he'd heard. Then, after a moment, he looked at her with a small smile. "Thank you, Halen. And if I may add, I do hope to get to know you as well. We may not be family by blood, but family by marriage is just as important to me."

She wasn't sure why, but the sentiment brightened her entire mood and she smiled a real, genuine smile. "I would like that, very much."

After Roran had left, Hal turned to Baldor and Albriech, raising a finger to patiently ask them to wait a moment. They nodded and Hal slipped back inside her room. Giles and Merida looked relieved to see her, clearly unsure if they should say something. Murtagh was pacing outside on the balcony, looking increasingly agitated. Hal walked over to them and said, "Can we pick this up tomorrow? I'll talk to him." To Giles, she added, "I'll explain later." When they were gone, having closed the door behind them, Hal took a deep breath before approaching.

It was frigid outside, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she stood to the side of the door, watching Murtagh who ignored her.

"Perhaps, instead of looking at it as something your mother kept from you," Hal began slowly, reading his mind as she always did, "why not look at this as an opportunity? Roran has shown us compassion since we've arrived. I think he reached out in good faith of wanting to get to know you better. How wonderful is that, rider?"

She smiled, trying to reach him. He froze and glanced over at her. Then shook his head. "I continue to feel all the ways in which my mother stole from me. A life of peace, a family I never knew. A chance to be my own man as Eragon got to be. I'm angry that I let her have such a hold over me. I barely remember her; she should not be allowed to ruin me from beyond the grave."

"No. No she shouldn't. But you have turned your life around for the better, Murtagh. Anyone can see that. Despite what she did, you are still living your life on your own terms. Perhaps, now that can include getting to know your cousin."

"First cousin."

"Don't be petulant."

He winced, and Hal relaxed a bit, knowing he hadn't meant it. "You're right. I'm sorry." He moved to stand on the edge, bracing himself on the stone railing. Hal moved to stand beside him. His jaw was tight with frustration. "I knew…I knew I couldn't walk into the capital and assume that I could erase my misdeeds. But no matter what I do, if it's not my foul legacy, it's that of my parents." Suddenly he was blinking back tears of anger, and Hal felt absolutely gutted. "The Black Hand? The organization that tried to have you killed? Galbatorix gave them that name because it was what people called my mother. Selena was Morzan's Black Hand. Imagine the irony that they almost killed you. Imagine how that makes me feel."

Hal froze in shock. She had no recollection of having known this before, that this was Selena's nickname and legacy. And the dark twist in fate was not lost on her now. Had Selena mentioned it in her diary?

Hal nearly swore out loud.

Selena's diary. She had completely forgotten about it. And watching Murtagh visibly struggle before her was the most anguish he'd shown since they'd left the estate. Hal felt her eyes begin to burn, heartbreak and shame mixing together.

I do not wish to deceive him, even at risk of hurting him. He at least should get to decide for himself if he wants to read it.

That's what Thorn had told her. At the time, she had presumed to know what was best for him. Even now, she couldn't quite say she had made the wrong choice. But it suddenly became painstakingly clear that there would never be a "good" time for Murtagh to confront the life his mother had left him saddled with. He simply had to do it on his own time. Thorn was right — it wasn't a decision Hal could make for him. She couldn't protect him now and the sight of him unraveling was more painful than she was willing to admit.

Wiping her cheeks, Hal turned quickly on her heels, hurrying to her bag and pulling out the diary. She stared at it, hesitating. Whatever happened, she just knew she could only support Murtagh's decision. But like Giles once reminded her, it had to be his decision alone.

Back outside, Hal said, "Murtagh, there's something I need to tell you."

He was leaning against the balcony seemingly unaware she had even stepped away. He glanced over at her, then down at the book in her hands. He wiped his face then straightened, turning to face her. Something in his gaze frightened her. Not of him, of course. But of his reaction. And she nearly cowed out. All be damned if he was angry at Selena. Better her than Hal. To add her lies on top of everything…she realized just how cruel she'd been.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry —"

"Oh, Hal, I'm not mad at you. I didn't mean —"

He reached for her but she stepped back, shaking her head. "No, but you will be." She began to shake from stress and cold, sniffling. "When we were searching through Morzan's study, you asked if I had found anything, and I lied to you and said I hadn't. And that's the first thing that I'm sorry for. We said we wouldn't lie to each other, and I've been lying to you since that moment."

Something in his eyes flickered at the admission. "Hal, what are you talking about?"

"I found your mother's diary, Murtagh," she said quickly, getting it out in one breath.

He blinked, tilting his head like he hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

"I found her diary. Not just found it…I've been reading it. I'm sure it's her because of the details about Morzan, and her life, and…and you —"

"Stop, stop, stop." He held up his hands, clearly still processing what she was saying. "I'm not following."

Hal took the book and shoved it in his hands. "Just take it. Please."

He stared at her like he had no idea who she was. He opened to the middle of the book, and Hal felt her heart drop in disbelief.

It was empty.

Murtagh flipped to a few random pages, and Hal began shaking her head in disbelief, snatching the book back. She frantically turned page after page, when suddenly the familiar entries appeared as if they'd been there the entire time. Breathing with relief, she held it up to Murtagh and said, "See?"

He just stared at her, his confusion plunging deeper, heading right towards madness. "Hal, there's nothing there."

She took the book back, seeing the writing clear as day. She flipped to another page. "What about this?" His face softened, but there was something in his eyes that tore her in two. "You have to believe me —"

"I believe you, Hal, I do," he said, his voice gentle. "But I'm sure this must mean that this wasn't something my mother wanted me to read."

"No. No, that's impossible —"

"Hal, it's okay."

"It's not okay! It's not…Murtagh, please."

He was walking away, and Hal quickly followed after him. "Murtagh, it must be the magic on it. The way she talked about you, I truly believe she loved —"

"DON'T!"

She jumped in surprise, his rage filling the space around them. He was breathing heavily, clearly just as caught off guard by his outburst as Hal. He wiped his hands across his face again. "Just don't," he said in a lower voice. "She made a choice. It wasn't me. Honestly, I'm glad. Because you're right. Look at everything I did without her. It wasn't easy, but I did it. Because I had Tornac, and Thorn, and you, and Denu. So, I don't care what she thought of me. The only thing I care about is that she died miserable and alone. I'm better off without that kind of love in my life. Because if that's a mother's love, I don't want it."

"Murtagh —"

"I should head back."

And he turned on his heel and left, closing the door roughly behind him. Hal just stared at the place where he had stood, unable to fathom the sharp turn the conversation had taken. Dumbfounded, she opened the diary again and saw the writing, clear as day. She knew by Murtagh's face that he truly hadn't been able to see anything.

Worse than withholding the diary from him, Hal had somehow managed to emphasize his belief that his mother hadn't cared for him. By allowing Hal but not him to read it…how was that even possible?

"You had one job as a mother," Hal whispered to the book, her tears finally falling. "You had one goddamn job!"

She hurled the book into the fireplace, wishing she had never picked it up. Wishing Selena had never written it. Hal swore loudly, wishing she could wring the woman's neck. She had actually started to feel sorry for her. Had found herself sympathizing with her. All those feelings…and for what? Hal would never be like her. And for a few moments, as she stared into the flames, watching the pages begin to burn, she believed it.

Then she swore again and rushed forward. She grabbed the fireplace tongs and reached for the book. She pulled it out onto the concrete hearth, panicked to see that it was still on fire. "Shit, shit, shit," she swore scrambling to her feet and running to grab a towel out of the washroom. She swatted at the flames until the book was nothing but a smoking singe, but the damage wasn't as bad as she had feared.

Paranoid, Hal opened the book but the writing was still there. Frustrated and, now, tired, Hal closed the book again and just dropped her head in her hands. She had made everything worse. And she had no one to blame but herself.

…

"…an update from Jörmundur regarding the information we've manage to extract from the captured members of the Black Hand…"

Murtagh's hearing was in and out, plagued by ruminating thoughts and perhaps an hour or so of sleep. Every attempt to focus on the conversation at hand was overrun by his conversation with Hal. He had been completely overwhelmed in a matter of minutes: he'd been steps away from a cousin he never knew existed, and Hal had been lying to him about a diary belonging to his mother that, for some reason, she could read and he could not.

It was too much. It was just too much. And the one person he wanted to talk to about everything was Hal, but he was finding it hard to look at her at the moment. He had retreated to his designated room, taking his meals in private and silence. Thorn had reached out, but Murtagh was keeping his distance for now. Adding another voice to his thoughts would just confuse him.

"…so ultimately, the goal was to use Murtagh as a scapegoat as a means of unseating you from power?"

Murtagh heard his name and forced himself to rejoin the conversation.

"It makes perfect sense," Orik was saying. "If they could somehow make Murtagh appear dangerous by harming Halen, it would also throw into question Nasuada's competency as ruler. With everyone already questioning her decision to offer a pardon, it would've made any claim made to unseat her legitimate."

Of course. He comes back to hear that, once again, he has somehow made everything worse. Because who was he, Murtagh Morzansson, if not an easy target? A problem to be fixed? A blight to be tarnished. His mother had certainly thought so —

Without thinking, he slammed his hand down on the table in an effort to stop the thought before he finished it. And he did so successfully. And he also drew the gaze of every eye in the room, much to his horror.

"Something you'd like to add, Murtagh?" Nasuada asked, her gaze letting him know that she knew he hadn't really been paying attention.

He had the lie on the tip of his tongue: no, he weas fine. Apologize and move on. But he couldn't unstick his lips to speak, aware of every second that passed by in silence.

"Murtagh?"

He didn't know why, but he felt his throat constrict, the pressure building in his chest. "Excuse me."

Rather than finish that statement, he jumped out of his seat and practically threw himself out the room, his face red. He raced down the hall, not wanting to be anywhere close to anyone. He was unexpectedly grateful that he had grown up in the castle, able to navigate quickly to an empty room where he promptly locked himself inside.

He crouched down, pushing his thumbs into his eyes to keep himself from crying. He wasn't even sad, just unbelievably frustrated and angry. And he didn't know what to do about of his feelings. They felt like a complete waste, and yet he couldn't get rid of them as much as he wanted to.

Ask yourself what you need right now, Thorn said.

You're lucky I forgot to shut you out.

Please, hear me out before you do. Murtagh, who'd been bracing to do just that, hesitated at the ask. I hope you know I'm just as angry at you for aiding in Hal's lie, right?

I do know, young one. And I accept the role I played in the deceit. I am sorry for the pain it has caused you.

Murtagh sighed. But?

No, no 'but'. I had my reasons, as did Hal. But we still hurt you. You have a right to be upset with us.

So then what is it you want to say to me exactly?

I just want to make sure that you are allowed closure. Whatever you need to do to make peace with something or someone, you can't be afraid to take those steps. Do what you need to do in order to heal.

My mother is dead, Thorn, there's hardly any point —

Might I interrupt to point out that I didn't necessarily say that the closure you needed was with your mother. She is important, yes. But she is only a fraction of the reason why you're hurting.

Murtagh was quiet, his chest tightening. I don't think I can —

Ah, ah, ah. Whatever you're about to say, you know I'm not the one who needs to hear it. I'm always here for you, young one, whenever you need to talk. But I'm not the one you need or want to talk to right now.

Thorn pulled away before Murtagh could counter, their connection growing quiet. Murtagh sat there, annoyed that his thoughts and intentions could be interpreted by another even though he was very clearly trying to ignore them. Because yes, he knew what he needed to do. But he was dreading it.

He stayed in that small space for a little bit longer. All the while, he could hear Tornac telling him to toughen up. Just get it over with, Murtagh told himself. And be honest.

Only when he was sure he had calmed down did he dare step out, hoping he didn't run into anyone from the council. If anything distracted him now, he might never do it. He hurried through the castle halls, going off nothing more than a whim as to where he should go.

He did not like this feeling of dread sweeping over him.

His fingers curled into fists, stress and nerves leaving him feeling frayed. He could do this, he told himself. He could do this. He could do —

"Murtagh?"

He spun around in surprise, feeling like he had summoned her. Hal was walking down the adjacent hall. He was pleased to see that Baldor and Albriech trailed a few steps behind her. He was less pleased to see that she was wielding her bow and arrow, and her hands were covered in blisters that she quickly hid behind her back, her face revealing nothing.

He swallowed thickly. "I need to talk to you. Privately."

Something flashed in her eyes, and she looked like she knew exactly what was coming. But she steeled herself and nodded. Handing her weapons to Baldor to hold, the two brothers trailed back as Hal and Murtagh walked around the corner. Hal stopped first, and Murtagh forced himself to keep at least a few feet between them. The sight of the physical distance only seemed to emphasize what he was about to say. But he had to say it. She must've known because Hal didn't say a word, only waited patiently with a bit of dread in her gaze.

He took a deep breath. "It's been hard, the last day or so, trying to figure out why I'm so upset," he began. "I wanted it so badly to only be because I couldn't read my mother's diary. I wanted for it to be just the Black Hand, or Thea, or…just, anything else. But right now, all I can think about, is how you lied to me for months. And it's not just that we don't lie to each other, but the fact that I have to reconcile that with the reality that you were the last person I expected to lie to me at all. And so easily. That hurts more than I was prepared for it to. I know it must seem trivial —"

"It's not," she said quietly. Her eyes were red, but he could tell she was resisting the urge to cry because she knew how quickly he would feel guilty. He knew that was exactly what she was thinking. And he still felt such a small fluttering of appreciation that she wasn't shying away from this that he had to suppress the urge to act on such a kindling of emotion.

"It's not trivial," she continued. "Because you told me time and time again how people have lied to you and used you. I was so proud, so very proud, that I was someone who had earned your trust and your friendship and you. And I did that by being honest. But even worse was that, I hid behind my desire to protect you as an excuse to do so; to validate something that would undoubtedly hurt you. It wasn't easy but it was never right, and I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry I lied to you. I will never do it again. I hope you can forgive me."

He felt the tension in his chest lessen. Her apology, he knew, was sincere. Her promise, he knew, was sincere. "I forgive you, Halen. Just…can you give me until the banquet to catch my breath? It's not just you, but I'm processing a lot and I think I need to do that on my own."

She nodded quickly, a few tears falling that she hurried to wipe away. "Of course, whatever you need." Then her eyes widened as if she'd remembered something and said, "Wait, just a second."

She rushed down the hall towards her room, returning just as fast with the diary in hand. Murtagh sighed as she reached him, ready to tell her to throw it out or burn it which, upon closer inspection, she may have actually tried.

"Halen, I can't —"

"You can," she said gently, holding the book up to him. "And you should. I don't know what kind of magic is on this thing, but I know there must be a way for you to read what I have. Murtagh, you need to find closure. I know it's easy to tell yourself that if she hadn't done what she had, you would have never had Thorn or me. But it doesn't change or lessen the suffering you have endured because of her decision. And it's because this choice had a lasting impact that it's okay if you're still upset or confused. My love, you can find closure and still feel those wounds years later. But do what you need to do to make peace either way. Whatever you choose, I'm here when you're ready."

She closed his hand over the diary, waiting until she was sure he was holding on before letting go. Like before, he felt a rush of emotion, but this felt stronger. Probably because he kept his hand on the book for much longer. But he felt no urge to open it. Not yet. Not here. Although the fact that he didn't immediately chunk it out the window was telling.

"Did you try to burn it?" he asked, trying to fill the air.

"I did. Apparently, the lack of destroying any other fixtures prior caught up with me."

His lips twitched. "But you still couldn't do it?"

Her smiled saddened. "It wasn't my place to. Whatever happens to the book is your choice, and I never should've overstepped and tried to take that choice from you. From now on, unless you ask, I'm only here to support you."

His throat felt thick. He struggled to meet her gaze, feeling awkward yet relieved that the hard part was now behind him. "I'm mad at you for making me mad at you."

She winced. "I know. I'm mad at me too."

"…I love you."

She smiled, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I know you do, Murtagh. And you never have to fear that I'll think you being angry at me changes that. So, thank you for being honest with me about how you were feeling. I know how hard that was for you. And I promise, I'll do everything I can to never put you in this position again."

Even though it seemed ridiculous at this point, he understood, then, why his relationship with Hal was so important. Because despite the hurt he felt at her lie, he didn't feel like she'd broken his trust. But she didn't trivialize his emotions or downplay what she'd done. If anything, he somehow felt his trust for her grown tenfold, because she had shown him that even in moments of disagreements, she was still very much on his side. So even if a simple, I love you too, would have sufficed, the intention behind Hal's words only emphasized why it was her. Why it would always be her.

"I'll see you at the banquet," he said, forcing himself to look away before he caved completely. He knew he needed to get his head on straight, and he couldn't do that with Hal around.

He could tell she was dejected. But she still gave him an encouraging smile. "I'll see you then."

Forcing himself to walk away was harder than he would have expected. He had nearly forgotten about Baldor and Albriech until he walked past them again, giving them a brief nod that they each returned. When he reached his room, he set the diary in his bag. He didn't want to think about it; putting it out of sight was the best option.

How do you feel? Thorn asked.

Better, he admitted.

And what did we learn?

Murtagh rolled his eyes. That people who truly care about me know how to take my feelings into consideration, and Hal won't suddenly love me less because I express myself.

I'm so proud of you, Thorn continued to tease. Learning to use your words.

Smart ass.

Admittedly though, Murtagh did feel marginally better. Hal was one of the longest relationships in his life. He could count on one hand everyone who fell into that category. So, logically, he knew there was still a lot that they had to learn in regards to their relationship. But he was committed to that effort, and he knew Hal was too. And that, for him, made all the difference.