Murtagh felt the warm breeze on his cheek, the warm body under his head, arms wrapped around him. Instinct told him this wasn't Hal. Yet, he felt no sense of alarm, just confusion. There was something loving and protective in this embrace. He woke up slowly, breathing in the smell of the earth, his body at ease. He didn't remember how he'd gotten here — he didn't even know where here was — but he wasn't alarmed by that fact.
He finally opened his eyes, met with the night sky which was littered with stars. He could tell that he was lying on someone's lap, and he saw the pale hands that cradled him gently. He sat up in surprise, turning to face the figure behind him.
He frowned, hardly daring to believe his eyes. "Mother?"
He blinked, but the image of Selena remained. But he couldn't recall where he had seen her like this. Her hair was loose and flowing in the wind. Her expression gentle, nothing like what Murtagh remembered. At least not consciously. Had his mother ever looked so at ease? For the first time he was realizing how young she was when she lived and died. Had he ever been this close to know just how much of himself he could see in her eyes?
But then…if she was here…
"Am I…?"
He couldn't even say it. Couldn't fathom it. Before his worst fear of leaving Hal and Thorn behind could cement itself, she shook her head. For some unexplained reason, she was decidedly mute, and he wondered why that was.
"Then am I dreaming?" he asked. Yet he was also doubtful that that was it. The only dreams he'd ever had of his mother were his memories. Nothing so sharp and clear as this.
She didn't respond, just stared with a loving smile that he wished so badly was real. Then she reached out and took his face in her hands and brought his head down, just as he often did with Hal. And he had the faintest recollection that she had, in fact, done this once before when he was small. When he did not yet realize the woman who often watched him from afar was his mother.
She pressed her forehead to his, holding him to her. She said nothing. Just held him. It took him a moment to unstiffen his muscles, too unfamiliar with the idea of any sort of affection from her. Yet he couldn't deny how safe he felt. He wanted so desperately for this moment to be real.
Selena lowered his head further and raised her lips to kiss the space between his brows. Then she leaned back, tears in her eyes. Murtagh was stunned to realize he was crying as well, suddenly feeling heartbroken. But why?
He saw her mouth move, but no sound came out. Next thing he knew, he was waking up on a makeshift cot. His entire body ached, particularly his left shoulder. His cheeks were wet with tears, and he raised his hand, stunned. His dream had certainly felt vivid and real, but he was still startled that he had managed to cry in his sleep.
Murtagh?
Thorn. And they both breathed in relief.
You scared me, young one. I was so afraid…
I'm sorry, Thorn. I never meant to worry you.
I know. I'm just grateful you're awake. Your fever has been spiking horribly the last few days. We were afraid it would never go down.
How long have I been unconscious?
Just shy of a week. Nasuada has had all of the best healers tending to you.
And Hal? Where is she? The fact that he could wake up and she wasn't there was cause enough for concern. But Thorn's weighted silence made Murtagh's heart drop. Thorn…
She's not…the dragon began quickly, then his voice seemed to catch with emotion. I do not wish to hide the severity of her condition. And based on what I understand to have happened and what I saw with my own eyes, she should already be dead. But Hal is in a grave state nonetheless.
He began to sit up — struggling with his left arm in a sling to keep it from moving — when he felt hands on him trying to help. He hadn't even noticed Albriech in the room. "Thank you," Murtagh breathed, surprisingly winded by the effort.
"Don't mention it, Dragon Rider," Albriech said, smiling softly. "I'm just relieved to see you're awake. How do you feel?"
"Where's Halen?"
Albriech didn't react immediately, just sighed as if he had been expecting this. "Come. I'll take you to her."
Getting to his feet was a slow, painful process. His entire body hurt, so much so that he didn't even mind that Albriech had to help him with his boots. After a frightful dizzying spell that nearly undid him completely, Murtagh even had to lean on Albriech for support. He barely registered that it had been nearly a week since he last ate a proper meal. It seemed colder already too, snow having fallen thick on the ground. Every breathe he took was punctured by a sharp pain near the spot where something had impaled him.
As they moved, Albriech explained everything that happened after Murtagh was struck and fell unconscious. As he listened, Murtagh glanced around at their grim surroundings, the hardened and stoic faces of the soldiers who walked past. They were in the keep, so still in Ilirea. So, the city had not completely fallen then. Every few feet, a citizen lay sleeping on whatever space of wall was available, looking miserable and cold. Somewhere, an infant cried. Murtagh felt his throat tighten, knowing that this was only a fraction of Thea's devastation. Albriech's recount of what happened so wildly unbelievable that Murtagh had to actually stop halfway there, ignoring the stares of nearby soldiers who did not seem to hold nearly as much ill-will as before, quietly muttering, "Shur'tugal," with newfound appreciation as they moved past him.
"What do you mean she took magic?" he repeated, his voice hard. "How is that possible?"
"I don't quite understand it myself. It's why your injuries aren't fully healed — our healers are overwhelmed trying to treat everyone without magic to rely on. It's making an already bigger mess worse."
Murtagh felt dizzy, like he couldn't fully catch his breath. I can corroborate his story, Thorn added, full of remorse.
"Then Hal?"
Albriech's expression appeared pinched, and he gestured for Murtagh to keep following. When they made it to the other side of the second level, Albriech knocked firmly on one of the doors. "I have Murtagh with me," he said to whoever was on the other side.
Baldor was the one who answered, and he looked relieved to see Murtagh, although it didn't quite fully reach his eyes. He respectfully stepped to the side and Murtagh walked in. Another makeshift cot had been set up in what was once, more than likely, an officer's study. There was a roaring fireplace, the light dancing off the rows of books. It was almost cozy.
Hal lay on the bed, and the sight of her brought tears to his eyes. Juliet stood at the head of the bed, a washcloth in hand as she wiped down Hal's skin to try and keep her clean. She looked like she wanted to speak but saw the look on his face and fell quiet, his grief pulpable. He stumbled across the floor, horrified at the sight of both her arms in splints. Her hair had been taken out of its braid, fanned out across her pillow, cleaned and brushed free of tangles. He dropped onto the cot, hands shaking as he reached for her cheek. Her skin was still warm. She could be sleeping. He eased down the blanket and saw that she had been bandaged, numerous cuts and bruises from the fighting.
He heard the door close gently behind him and knew the brothers and Juliet were giving him privacy. Relieved to be alone, Murtagh took her arm in his hand. It wasn't that he doubted their version of events, but Murtagh needed to see for himself all the same.
He called on the words of the ancient language, but he felt no magic stirring within him. His palm did not glow and Hal's arm remained broken. He closed his eyes, searching for a sign of his wards that he had placed over Hal months ago, but he felt nothing. He did not know if that meant he could no longer sense them or if they had disappeared along with everything else. So, this was Thea's endgame then? Processing both this and Hal's condition was enough to instantly overwhelm him. Without magic, what good was he now? He could barely move his left arm as it was, and it would take months to heal accordingly, assuming he did not suffer irreparable damage.
Gingerly turning her arm over with the utmost care, Murtagh moved her palm face up. He planted a gentle kiss on her hand. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he looked at her, trying to will her to wake. She had fought so well and had been so brave.
"I'm right here, my love," he whispered to him. "You're going to be all right. Just rest. I will be waiting for you when you wake."
…
The city had been left in shambles. The number dead or missing had creeped ever so steadily towards the hundreds within the first few hours. Now, it was in the thousands. And Murtagh knew that number would continue to rise. Without being able to rely on magic, they faced overwhelming odds of treating the injured and risked infectious disease as well. It would be likely that many would not be saved. Every able-bodied person was being put to work, moving the injured to any large, available room, gathering bandages, heating water, and scavenging for food and other useful items. Soldiers were being split between round-the-clock duty, lest Thea — who had apparently disappeared after her curse was cast — launched a second attack. They were also being dispatched in small numbers to escort messengers to neighboring towns and cities to request immediate aid and a status update. They needed to know how far Thea's magic had spread. But Murtagh had a feeling he already knew.
Barely a day after waking, Nasuada called a private, emergency meeting with all leadership still in the city. She had stationed herself in a spare office, and he had heard that she had spent much time having her aids copy down meeting notes, legal documents, reports, and other such items that had been destroyed or lost when Thea had damaged part of the castle. This room was smaller, with just one desk and chair for her majesty. Quarters, however, were fairly cramped, so it was probably for the best that they had to stand.
When the door was shut and everyone was inside, Nasuada got right to the point. "We are still confirming, but based on current reports, we are looking at nearly 1,300 dead or missing, and 500 injured. Half of the city has been decimated, which means we have lost half of our shelter and food, and medical supplies are running thin. Based on calculation from my advisors, we will have enough supplies to get us through the month so long as we keep rations…sparse."
She took a deep breath, then pressed on. "I have dispatched messengers to collect aid. We expect additional response from Dras-Leona, as well as Bullridge and Furnost with the next day or two. Orrin has already returned to Surda with a request for a convoy of supplies to arrive this evening. It will be tough, but this city and its people are strong. We will endure."
She folded her hands across her lap. "The reports that magic is gone have, so far, been confirmed. What that means, I do not yet have the ability to fully comprehend. We don't know how far this reaches and who all is truly impacted. But it is safe to assume that all magic in Alagaësia that relied on the use of the ancient language…is gone."
To hear one of his worst fears confirmed was dizzying. Fortunately, he was leaning against a wall for support. Even Galbatorix would not have been so mad as to try such a thing, and that thought was frightening enough on its own.
"The citizens are our priority. However, Thea has played a very dangerous hand, and I cannot sit idly by and let this terror slide. I have explained the threat in my letters to the neighboring cities and towns, and I have requested all go on high alert. Arya, Orik, I imagine you will tell your people the same."
The two royals nodded, their faces hidden in shadow of grief and rage.
Nasuada turned back to address the room. "After six years of relative peace, I know this is daunting. And for the victims, this is a cruel turn of fate. They were meant to be protected in this city. As queen, I have failed in that regard. But I also know that we took heavy losses on several occasions when our enemy resided in the very castle we now occupy!"
Murtagh felt his lips twist in a smile. He wasn't alone. The advisors and leading military commanders present were nodding enthusiastically, and some even began to stand up straighter.
"Cry if you need to. Scream, if you must. But remember that this fight is not over until it claims our last breath. Until then…you are dismissed."
The group filed out, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Murtagh stayed where he was. Nasuada had caught his eye moments before and the signal was quite clear. Her second, Aharon, noticed that Murtagh had not moved and seemed to hesitate at the door. "Did you need something, Aharon?" Nasuada asked.
His face looked pinched. "No, your majesty." He promptly closed the door behind him.
At first, Murtagh did nothing, his body so exhausted that he simply did not think he could so much as move. Nasuada watched him carefully. "I want to start off by acknowledging that I am relieved you're alive and awake, and that we owe you and Thorn a great debt. Arya explained to me the circumstances that led you to realize that it was Ilirea, not Teirm, under significant threat. Had you not turned back when you had, this city would have fallen."
He tried not to let his blush show. His realization wasn't nearly as impressive as she made it out to be: his wards for Hal had simply gone off. When he tried to scry her, just to make sure, he saw nothing but blackness. The same thing they had seen when they had tried to scry Teirm. Then he tried Giles, Baldor and Albriech, and many others. Arya was equally unsuccessful, and they chose immediately to split up.
"The soldiers, Roran, and Hal, deserve more credit than I or Thorn. They held Thea back long enough for us to arrive." He touched his shoulder, wincing. "Besides, I became nothing more than a burden in the end."
"I doubt Hal or anyone feels that way." She gave him a sympathetic look. "She still does not stir, does she?"
"No. Her vitals are still weak, but stable. With all the energy she used during the siege…she should not have survived at all."
The queen nodded. "Yes. That brings me to two things I must discuss with you. Please." She gestured to one of the chairs near, but he politely declined. "If you don't mind, your majesty, I'd rather stand for now."
"Fair enough. I'm too antsy to sit anyway." She moved to stand on the other side of the desk, leaning back against it and clasping her hands in front of her. "Firstly, what Halen did was reckless. I know she meant well, but as a citizen, she risked interfering with military matters that put my men at risk. She is not equipped to give orders. I've already reprimanded Roran for not sending her back to the castle immediately, along with Baldor and Albriech for enabling her behavior. If she had been a soldier under my orders and command, I would have had her whipped for disobedience."
Murtagh's jaw tightened.
Nasuada licked her lips. "But she was a citizen, acting as she saw best given the circumstances. And technically, since no one broke any formal commands, they have been spared punishment. But I'm telling you solely so that you understand in the future: Hal is a citizen. If she wishes to fight, she can join the army or pledge her fealty like everyone else. Otherwise, moving forward, she is to remain out of confidential meetings — unless invited — and off of the battlefield. Am I clear?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Which brings me to my second point." She straightened up, her gaze bearing down on him with accusation. "You lied to me. Not once did you think to share that Hal could use magic."
He didn't respond.
"Who is she really, Murtagh? I have reports from multiple eye-witnesses that she used magic, traded blows the Ra'zac, and moved, and I quote, 'as if she were an elf.'" Murtagh stared at the wall, unsure of how to respond in a manner that didn't put Hal in danger.
"You are under oath now, Murtagh. I could not force your hand before, but I can now if I have to. Please don't make me."
"If you're going to be angry at anyone, be angry with me, not Hal. She can use magic, yes. But she only learned how when I taught her. We feared that the Shade could somehow find Hal if she did call on her magic, so we figured there was no point in bringing it up. And we didn't know how to explain it to you, so I told her to keep it to herself."
"You mean you didn't trust me to understand."
"Of course I didn't," Murtagh retorted without thinking. "I refused to have Hal on a registry like some sort of criminal. And I certainly wouldn't have her swearing fealty to you like a soldier. Hal is neither of those things."
"By law, Hal should've declared herself a magic user —"
"Do you really want to argue with me right now on the merits of your registry? The Black Hand used it to turn magic users to their side. People felt criminalized under that law. Do you understand the implications of that? I'm sorry, but I was not putting Hal through such an ordeal on top of everything else. She suffered enough publicly declaring her loyalty to me as she did."
"You may not have agreed with the law, but it was the law all the same. I expect anyone serving under me to obey it. If you wish to remain on my good side, you will abide by it from now on. Am I clear?"
He grimaced, not wanting Hal to wake up and find he was on the run again. She would murder him after everything they've been through. But he feared agreeing for the sake of keeping the peace now would result in Nasuada coercing Hal into something she wouldn't want later.
Nasuada caught her breath, then shook her head. "Eragon didn't seem too thrilled by the law either before he left. I still believe that it is better to supervise what few magic users there are than risk them turning on innocent people."
"Then you do not fully grasp that it is your own law that has turned them against you. I'm not saying that your intentions were impure. I empathize with the position you were in, especially considering the role I played in forcing your hand —"
"Do you fully empathize with it though, Murtagh? Our history already had its complications in terms of granting your pardon. But now it will look like I am playing favorites. This crown was given to me by the people, but it could just as easily be taken away. I don't want that because I know I am what's best for this country at this point in time. But if people are allowed to twist and manipulate the facts, then what am I to do?"
Murtagh finally collapsed back into the chair she had offered him earlier. Uncaring of looking polished, he let his exhaustion seep into his body and slumped down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I wish I knew," he muttered. "This whole thing is a mess."
Nasuada's demeanor shifted to match his, as if his lack of decorum had given her permission to excuse her own. Her shoulders slumped and her presence seemingly diminished with all she was bearing on her shoulders. She thought quietly for a moment, then moved around to the other side of her desk, fiddling with one of the drawers. Murtagh's brows shot up with intrigue and surprise as she produced a bottle of liquor and two small glasses.
She noticed his expression and grinned. "Even I'm not impervious to the stresses of ruling from time to time. I only drink on very trying occasions."
"I'm certainly not complaining, nor am I judging."
She poured a bit for each of them before passing a glass to Murtagh. "Mind you," she said, "this wine is fermented longer than most so it's much stronger — at least I think that's how it was explained to me. But that's what I love about it."
At her warning, Murtagh took a small, slow sip and was rewarded with an immediate burn that warmed on the way down. He made a face and Nasuada laughed, sipping hers with much more ease. She moved to sit in the chair beside him, and for a while they said nothing. They simply drank and stared out the window, watching another snowfall.
Sighing, Murtagh polished off his drink and said, "The Shade, Thea, and Hal, are from the same village. A village that, thirteen years ago, was slaughtered by Galbatorix's soldiers in a single night. Hal was in the middle of the event that led to such an escalation. I shouldn't even be telling you this, as it is not my place. But out of respect for her privacy, I will not say what happened." He stared at his glass, his face flushed and he pressed forward, his voice even softer. "She was so afraid of her magic when I met her. So many people embrace such abilities and the power it gives them. Hal had run so far from it she barely acknowledged its existence, even to me. It took months of basic, rudimentary teachings before we even reached the practical portion of her lessons."
"I cannot imagine you teaching," Nasuada said, her tone light.
"Hal was very convincing," he threw back, and they shared a smile. But his slipped as he continued. "Hal's magic is like that of the Shade's. Because they hail from the same village. We had no idea until she confronted Thea herself, and Hal is convinced that what happened thirteen years ago is basically the catalyst for what is unfolding now. I'm sorry I lied to you — or withheld information, as it were. I truly was not doing it out of ill-intent."
"You were simply protecting Hal," she finished. Then she finished her drink, barely grimacing as she reached over to set her glass down on the desk. When she sat back, she said, "I admit that Orik told me of your engagement, he'd heard about it from Hal. He mentioned that she had no family to tell, and that she had seemed quite put out by this. I had no idea…and I am truly sorry for what she lost. I can't even imagine…she does not outwardly seem like someone who carries such burdens with her."
"No, she doesn't," agreed Murtagh.
Nasuada's expression became pained, her own hurt apparent as she thought of Hal and her past. "I admit that, legally, I do not have much ground to stand on. You were not technically a citizen, nor had you pledged fealty to me. I imagine that Hal herself, coming from the islands, was ignorant of the law, correct, and therefor did not know she was breaking any rules?"
Her look said more than enough, and Murtagh nodded. "Yes, that's correct."
She gave him a wry smile. "That's what I thought. And since you have revealed the truth to me now, it does not seem fit to punish you. Not to mention the registry is all but useless since no one can use magic anyway. So, you have been spared this time, Morzansson. But let's not make a habit out of it."
"Yes, your majesty."
"And, please know, that I do hope she's okay. She is strong. I know she will pull through."
He shot her a grateful smile. "She will fight," was all he could muster up.
Sensing that Hal's condition was the last thing he wanted to talk about, Nasuada kindly changed the subject. "How are you feeling overall, Murtagh? Truly."
"Better, I suppose, but not fully there quite yet. Trianna's been giving me these herbal remedies that help with the pain but they make me quite nauseous."
"I'm sure." She studied him carefully. "Well do be sure to try and get some rest. I suspect Albriech and Baldor, will continue to keep an eye on you."
"I can help. Let me fulfill my duty, let me be of service."
"When I feel you're ready, I promise, Murtagh, I will call on you and Thorn. But you have to take care of yourself first. Rest. Maybe help Roran and the healers or something. But don't try to strain yourself too soon or you'll make matters worse."
"I'm just trying to help," he countered gently, not wanting to make a fuss. "Hal would do it if she were awake —"
He stopped talking.
Nasuada eyed him again, looked like she didn't know whether to command or guide him. "You did not do this, Murtagh. Nor did Halen. The second you told us of Thea, absolutely none of us thought to question the security we had in place until it was too late. If anyone is to blame for this outcome, it is me. You gave me fair warning of what Thea was capable of. It was my duty to see to it that my city was prepared for an attack. I didn't do that. And my people suffered as a result."
"Thank you for trying, your majesty," Murtagh said, his voice hollow with guilt. "But neither Thorn nor myself see it that way. And I know for a fact that, when she wakes, Hal will not see it that way either. Besides, you are doing something that has never been done before. I would have been shocked if you got it right on the first try."
"I know. But it was a goal nevertheless." She crossed her legs, looking both too young for such burdens, and aged by them as well. Murtagh was sure he was no better. Hal and Eragon, Roran, and more. How did they all wind up with such responsibilities? He could truly begin to understand Hal's desire for home and settling down. There was peace to be had in the idea of not almost dying, be it in battle, assassination attempts, or some other violent means.
"Please remember to rest, Murtagh. Even without magic, you are no use to me dead."
He snorted. "Is this what it feels like to no longer be expendable? If you're not careful, this sort of treatment will go straight to my head."
Nasuada chuckled, rising to her feet. Murtagh did the same, bowing before her. "If you can still utter a bit of sarcasm, then I have faith that you'll be just fine."
"I would say that's a fair assessment to make, your majesty."
She gave him a look, as if she were debating to say what was on her mind. Licking her lips, she said, "Actually, there is something I will need your assistance with when you are ready." He straightened up, awaiting his orders. "I don't want you to be caught off guard hearing this from someone else, so I'll be straightforward: others have begun to notice and speculate about Hal's magic not being of the usual caliber. From what you've just told me about her connection to Thea, I know their speculation to be appropriate. Therefore you need to know this: apparently, where she stood to create the shield that protected us has been left a dead and barren wasteland."
Murtagh blinked, confused. "I'm sorry, a what?"
"I didn't believe it either until I saw it for myself. Arya has seen it but has no idea what could have caused it. I would like for you to take a look and see if anything comes to mind. You say Hal and the Shade come from the same village and that their magic is similar. I do not know what that implies, but perhaps if we can understand Hal's abilities, we can understand how to undo what the Shade has done."
"Aye," Murtagh muttered, already lost in thought. Then he shook his head clear and said, "I'm rather surprised. I would've assumed you and many others would be rather relieved that magic is gone."
Her smile was pained. "In a twisted way, you'd normally be correct. I cannot fathom what compelled the Shade to such extremes, but I hate that I can understand the desire for a world without magic. So much suffering because of it…" She sighed, shaking her head. "But what we want and what the world is exist separately for a reason. I never would've imagined the cost for such a spell would be the lives of so many innocent people."
Her expression was heavy with grief. Murtagh watched her carefully, wishing he had the proper words of encouragement to raise her chin. But he felt as hollowed out as she looked and knew his words would mean nothing anyway.
"I'll take a look and let you know if I discover anything."
"Thank you, Murtagh."
And with that, he excused himself from her presence, her gaze still distant and sad as he closed the door behind him.
…
"How does that feel, Master Murtagh?" As she spoke, Juliet pressed down lightly on the tender, red skin around his shoulder. He winced, and she shot him an apologetic look. "I know it must not feel like it, but it does seem to be healing quite well."
Murtagh glanced down at the stitched-up and bruised-looking injury, suppressing a shiver as he thought, once again, how close the metal pipe had been to his heart.
Do not dare think such thoughts, Thorn chastised strongly. For I do not wish to think of what could have happened to you. You survived, that is what matters here.
I know, Murtagh admitted, digging his fingers into his pants leg as Juliet set about cleaning his wound, the skin smarting. He clenched his jaw tightly, focusing on his connection and conversation with Thorn rather than the pain. I'm more frustrated that I feel so helpless. Thea has bested us at every moment and we are perhaps even further from stopping her than we were before. I should've known it was a set-up from the beginning after what the Black Hand pulled.
There's no way anyone could've predicted this so stop beating yourself up over it. Regrets will not change the outcome. We have to only think ahead of what we will do next.
He glanced over at where Hal slept. "I fought this long because I knew you'd come back. I wanted to show you that even apart, you don't have to worry about me." He felt his eyes burn and squeezed them shut to stop the swell of emotions.
Thorn…if she doesn't wake up…
She will, he interjected quickly. She must. We cannot not lose hope. Not after how hard she fought. It would be a disservice to give up on her so quickly.
Part of Murtagh knew this, and all of him wanted nothing more than to accept it. But he remembered the dream of his mother from when he awoke, thought of Tornac, and the death that had followed Murtagh throughout his life.
"That's a cursed child if I ever saw one."
Those words had haunted him all his life. Cursed. This feeling that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough. He could never atone for the sins of his past, the sins of his parents. He had trained himself never to want more than what he was given. Material things were nothing to him. But deep, human connection? He had been denied it for so long that it became easier to live without. What few relationships he had been provided had ended in misery of his own making.
Was Hal meant to suffer a similar fate?
"It may not mean much, coming from someone like me," Juliet said suddenly, her voice soft. Murtagh looked up, realizing she had finished re-bandaging his wound and returned his arm to its sling so that it wouldn't move too much. She had followed his gaze and was also looking at Hal's still form. "But I was not able to tell Miss Halen that, there was a moment when I was so frightened. So beyond terrified. I've never felt fear like I did that night. I don't know if I ever will again. I wanted to tell her to be careful. I had called her name, taken her hand, and I wanted to tell her to be careful. When she looked at me…I felt so assured. I felt such hope." Juliet was soon crying, the tears quietly sliding down her face as Murtagh watch her in fascination. "She thanked me, Master Murtagh. Of all the things I thought she might say, that was not it." Juliet laughed and wiped her eyes. "She made me promise that I would keep fighting. In that moment, for her, I knew I would. What she had risked for me, I knew could never be repaid. Even if she was not able to save Merida, the fact that she was determined to look for just a handmaiden of all people…"
Juliet's shoulders began to shake and Murtagh felt his own eyes burn with tears. Yes, Baldor and Albriech had told him everything. How Hal had insisted on leading them to the keep, saving Juliet and going after Merida, insisting on fighting, the number of civilians and soldiers alike that she helped save. Murtagh had seen the fear on her face. He had felt how relieved she was to see him and Thorn again. But she had been so brave and ferocious without them. Long enough for them to get back to her side where they belonged. He wanted to be angry at her for putting herself in harm's way — and part of him was — but he was in such awe of her as well.
"When it comes to Hal, no one is ever 'just' anything," Murtagh began quietly. Juliet hiccupped, her cheeks splotchy. "I was never 'just' a dragon rider or 'just' a traitor. I was merely Murtagh. You and Merida were never 'just' her handmaidens. You were two women who showed Hal kindness in a place that made her feel unwelcomed. You took care of her. Hal is someone who cherishes such things and doles it out in turn. That is why I fell so helplessly in love with her. To Hal, anyone can be special. For those of us fortunate enough to meet her, we are suddenly made to feel exceptional. That is her gift."
Juliet was nodding, slowly calming herself down as he spoked. Sniffling, she added in a meek voice, "She is greatly looking forward to marrying you, Master Murtagh. She worried for you and Thorn while you were away."
"She worries so easily," he muttered, feeling his lips lift in a smile. "She's more sensitive than she looks."
There was a gentle knock at the door, pulling them both out of their heads. "Murtagh," said Baldor's voice, "I have Mr. Brighamson to see you."
He and Juliet quickly finished wiping their faces. Clearing his throat, he said, "Let him in."
The door opened and Giles rushed in. Murtagh climbed warily to his feet, suddenly exhausted, but grateful to see his friend. Giles pulled him into a gentle hug, mindful of Murtagh's injury. But it didn't stop him from fisting the back of his tunic, his relief and remorse palpable in the grip.
"I'll be back around supper, Master Murtagh," Juliet said with a respectful curtsey, stepping away to leave.
Murtagh quickly called out to her, pulling away from Giles to face Juliet. He bowed his head slightly. "Hal would not want me to worry for her. Thank you for reminding me of her strength. I would be wise to follow in her footsteps."
Juliet looked momentarily surprised, then her shoulders dropped their guard and her smile widened. "It was my honor, Master Murtagh." She bowed her head and left.
Murtagh collapsed onto the bed, Giles taking his spot on the stool as they both studied Hal for a moment. "She'll pull through," Giles assured him. "She's stubborn, that one. Just like you."
Chuckling, Murtagh turned to the red-haired man. "How are you faring?"
"Been keeping busy assisting her majesty. And you? How's your shoulder?"
"Still pretty damaged. I won't be doing any heavy-lifting for a bit, so I figured I may try to find ways to occupy myself around here for now. I imagine there's still plenty who need assistance. And I want to help however I can."
"Aye, I figured as much. And Thorn?"
"About the same. He is anxious to see Hal."
They sat in a heavy silence for a bit. It wasn't particularly awkward, but no one knew what to say either. The fire crackled, the occasional shout or sound of footsteps finding its way in through the thick doors.
"I've been overhearing some things the last week." Giles shifted on his seat, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. The air around him became serious and Murtagh became nervous.
Murtagh leaned forward as well, mimicking his posture. "What kind of things?"
Lowering his voice, Giles said, "It's about the Black Hand. Du Vrangr Gata has been working with Arya to monitor for activity. They fear that with magic gone, they may attempt to ambush Nasuada and you."
"Why are you the one to tell me this?"
"Do not worry, it's not like before. Nasuada informed me only this morning and I requested to be the one to tell you since I wanted to come see you anyway."
His breathing loosened, relieved that it was not a similar situation to when he had been intentionally kept in the dark. Perhaps Nasuada had also realized that communication had to work both ways. "Has anything happened recently to lead to this conclusion?"
"Nothing concrete, just speculation. With all the chaos happening in the capital, and you and her majesty without your usual wards and protections —"
"It's an ideal opportunity," Murtagh finished. "The only saving grace is the assumption that they cannot use magic either."
"Aye, but you and I both know what they are capable of even without such abilities."
Murtagh pinched the bridge of his nose. "This must've been why they sided with Thea in the first place. Their opposition towards Nasuada must've been stronger than their desire for power through magic. Which surprises me, if I'm being honest."
"Agreed. But the opportunities that would arise if they manage to assassinate her during the chaos of the moment…there would be no clear command and the citizens would panic."
"Not to mention the in-fighting of the nobles vying for her position. The government would essentially destroy itself from the inside."
"Bet you wished now you had stayed at the manor, eh?"
His question, although meant to be funny, was delivered with a morose sense of doom, the feeling of being completely blindsided and the fear of being helpless to the whims of the enemy. Murtagh glanced back over at Hal, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest and taking comfort that she was breathing so well on her own already.
"I would be lying if I said no," he admitted quietly, turning back to Giles. "The reason we stayed as long as we did was because I became convinced I could keep her safe there. No one knew of the manor or its location. Morzan's wards protecting it ran deep. I admit that, for a while, I was happy there. We both were." He shook his head, clearing his mind of the memories. "But it was all an illusion. Hal made me realize that. I want the real thing, Giles. All of it. Even the hard moments like this. Because when she wakes, it will only allow me to love her harder than I do now. I cannot give her the life she wants or deserves if I always take the easy way out. Besides, Hal has already made it quite clear she would not have me if I tried."
Giles chuckled. "Yep, that sounds like Hal."
"Indeed."
After a while, Giles rose to leave, Murtagh standing with him and embracing him once more. "I know things are in turmoil right now, but if you ever need anything at all…"
"I know," Murtagh assured him, his smile grateful. "Thank you, my friend."
"Anytime, anytime."
As he left, Murtagh called Baldor and Albriech in. When the door was closed, he quickly briefed both brothers on what Giles had told him earlier about the risk of the Black Hand.
"That explains why they were largely absent during the siege," Albriech said. "That wasn't their priority. They were waiting for what came after."
"That is my conclusion as well. And as I'm sure you both have gathered based on this information, Hal is more at risk than anyone. My left arm is weak, but it's not my dominate arm. I can still fight if need be. Until she wakes, I'll not risk her. I'm sure they would go for her again in an attempt to subdue me and Thorn." There was a brief pause while he took a slow breath, and the silence said everything he dared not: that despite his fealty to the queen, he still would not risk Hal's life for anything. Not if he could help it. Which would quickly become obvious to all enemies. "Thorn will remain outside the keep, just below us so that it will be difficult for enemies to approach from the outside. I want you two with Hal at all times. One in the room, one guarding the door. When I'm here with her, I'd prefer it if one could still remain outside, the other rest as much as you can. Alternate or figure out what shifts work best. I'll recruit Giles to assist where he's available. Under no circumstance is she to be left alone. Keep an eye on Juliet too. As Hal's handmaiden, she's also vulnerable. Understood?"
"Yes sir!"
He nodded, raising his right hand to clap Albriech on the shoulder, then Baldor. "Thank you both, for everything. For staying by her side. For offering your services. I cannot begin to put into words the depths of my appreciation. Just know that you have it."
"It's been our privilege," said Baldor, giving him a warm smile. "Miss Halen keeps us on our toes after all."
"That she does," agreed Albriech, look almost exhausted just at the thought. And that made Murtagh smile.
Later, in the middle of the night, Murtagh woke up from the same dream of his mother. He could still see the way her mouth moved, the words it formed. But it was as silent as ever, and he was more pressed with why he was dreaming of his mother after all this time.
He glanced down at Hal, whose face was as serene as ever. He was pretty confident that some of her cuts and bruises had already begun to heal. He hadn't thought anything of it at first, not having a strong recollection of the full extent of her injuries. Now, after just a few days of sitting by her side since he awoke, he was sure that the minor wounds had started to fade. He did not dare put too much stock in hope, but he could not help but recall how the spirits had spent three days making Hal's body strong enough to survive the transition. He wanted to believe that they were healing her now. He just had to be patient.
He wished desperately that he could touch her mind like he had on Uden, or after he saved her from the Ra'zac. Such small acts each time, but she had always heard him. He had always been able to reach her. But with magic gone, it was just one more thing they were without. Every so often he would talk to her, tell her what had happened or simply mention how much he missed her. He could almost envision her responses. Sometimes it helped, and sometimes he felt painfully aware of how precarious she seemed to teeter between life and death.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he felt himself waking up and peered around the room for something to do. He spied his bag and walked over to it, bringing it back to Hal's bedside. He reached into the pocket, pulling out the note that had found slipped inside all after the fact. He had no idea when Hal had written it, but she must've done it as he was changing to leave for Teirm. And he stared at the note now with tears in his eyes.
To me, my love. Come back to me.
It had been such a simple thing, but his heart had felt so full upon reading it, just like now. He needed to find a safe place for it sooner rather than later, and he placed it in the breast pocket of his tunic for now, tucking it in gently. As he did, his eyes caught the spine of his mother's diary.
He saw her as she appeared in his dream again. The words her mouth formed silently each time. He stared at the book, then reluctantly picked it up. Clearly, he was determined to be in a foul mood. As he set the book on his lap, he felt a surge of emotions roll through him. Regret, shame, anger, and a desperate desire to make amends. Feelings all his own, and yet…they weren't. He released the book and the strength of such feelings dipped, but they were still present.
Breathing heavily, he reached for the diary again. His feelings remained his own and he slowly opened the cover. His face went slack as he read the words Property of Selena on the first page. Hands shaking, he began to flip through the book, speechless as page after page was filled with neat entries. But how? He had seen none of this before. Why show itself now?
He stopped on a random page, curious now as to the contents. Wondering if it was all real, or simply a trick of his mind. Maybe he was even still asleep.
I have not dreamed in years. I don't think I can. When I close my eyes at night, I see nothing but the darkness behind my eyes and in my mind. These feelings grow worse with each passing day. This helplessness. Morzan had once begun to notice as well, the gradual shifting of my moods. My silence. I no longer jumped at his command and he grew angrier. He thought I was empty. Nothing more than a vessel.
I do not think he was wrong.
I no longer felt like my old self, and I no longer recognized the person I had become. But I found that I no longer had the strength or energy to care. Morzan's fits of anger did not sway me like they once did. I could see how much that had started to bother him. He would shout louder, hit harder, but it barely affected me. How can it? He has successfully managed to whittle me down to nothing. He of all people should not be surprised that I am incapable of feeling like I once did when it was he who made me this way.
But I feared what that meant for Murtagh. It did not take Morzan long to figure out that our child could be leveraged for my compliance. And, at first, I thought nothing of it. To protect my son, I would do anything. And for a while, I did. I continued to stain my hands with the blood of Morzan's targets. Continued to follow his commands, even as I began to be disgusted by them, for the sake of our…no, my son.
However, I made a mistake. I let my resentment at the manipulation spill over too far, too fast. Soon enough, it was not just Morzan that enraged me, but Murtagh as well. I began to resent him for keeping me trapped here. For being the one thing I loved too much to let Morzan harm. Soon enough, I could not differentiate between father or son.
Soon enough, I felt trapped between them both.
Murtagh slammed the diary shut and nearly threw it against the wall before caught sight of Hal and fell back into his chair. Pulling his seat closer, he dumped the book on the bed accusingly. "Why did you want me to read this, Hal? What did you see in these writings that you deemed so important?"
Silence. Not that he expected her to answer. But he still desperately wanted her to.
Hal had told him he needed closure. Thorn seemed to be in agreement. But what if the closure was not what he wanted? He had spent his entire life going back and forth on what was worse: his mother having never loved him, or his mother abandoning him despite her love. Or, based on the first passage he had seen, maybe she had lost her will to love him altogether. Based on what he had read, he could almost understand if that was the case. But that didn't mean it would hurt less.
You do not have to read it alone if you do not wish to, Thorn offered, having been woken up by Murtagh's late night thoughts. You know I will be right here by your side.
Murtagh found that that was exactly what he needed. The steady, unwavering presence of someone who had already chosen him, time and time again.
Thorn…am I really better off knowing the truth? Do you honestly think this will help me?
I do not wish to speak in absolutes. I cannot know everything for sure. But, much of your growth this past year has been due to you rising up and facing your past, embracing the hurt and turmoil it has caused you, and learning to live with it as something that is very much a part of you, but does not at all define you. You still allow parts of yourself to be beholden to the whims and decisions of your parents. It is not your fault, as you, more than they, bore the brunt of their shame because of how society treated you. This is the last thing I feel you holding on to. You may not find the answers you want, but I do believe you will find the answers that you need. You cannot expect to have a future with Hal if you are still clinging to your past. Let it go, young one. Let it all go. And know that no matter what happens, I will always be there to catch you.
Murtagh felt his eyes burn with tears, Thorn's unyielding love and acceptance as warm as his flames. It shone so brightly, even now in such darkness, that Murtagh marveled at how grateful he was to have the dragon by his side. That something so good could have come out of such a life. I would like that very much, Thorn. Thank you.
I would do anything for you, my rider. Never forget that.
I won't. I promise. And taking a deep breath, Murtagh opened to the first page and began to read.