you. You're sensitive."

He could not help but chuckle. "I can't deny that, even though I'd like to."

"Eh, there's nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all. Otherwise, Hal wouldn't've married you. But all this to say, if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you. I know the distance will not be easy on you, especially on top of everything else you are dealing with. So, if there's anything I can do to help the days go by a little faster, let me know."

"Could you call me 'rider' whenever you're huffy with me?"

"I better get going then."

"Giles, I know you heard me."

"Let me know when you are scheduled to leave so I can see you off. Until then…"

Turning abruptly on his heel, Giles threw a dismissive wave towards Murtagh, who chuckled at his friend's retreating back. He slipped inside the room, which was warmed by Juliet's ever-present touch. The room seemed larger when he was in it alone. With Juliet having cleaned the room while they were away, there was no trace of Hal to be found anywhere. No scent of her on the pillows or between the sheets. No low humming coming from the tub while she soaked. The room felt empty and Murtagh couldn't imagine facing such a depressing sight for too long.

While he never would've gone to see Eragon of his own accord, in that moment, he was relieved it had come up. Perhaps being a place where there was no lingering memory of Hal to be had would help clear his head for the next several, grueling months.

Eventually he shoved himself away from the door, moving stiffly as he changed for the night. The silence felt insurmountable, the space that had once been filled with conversation and laughter felt empty now. For a moment, a small part of Murtagh relished the feelings that washed over him. There were so very few times in his life where he actually got to miss someone. To recognize distinctly what their absence in his life meant. Even if it was only temporary, he could not help but still feel in awe that he could experience such things so late in life.

As he finally got into bed, he let his eyes rest on Hal's side, neatly folded and kept. His fingers twitched, the instinct to reach for her almost painful then. When he could bear it no longer, Murtagh rolled over on his side and blew out the candle beside his bed, the room falling into darkness and Murtagh falling into dreams.

…

"Do you see anything, Miss Halen?"

Hal stretched her arm out as far as it would go, the torch barely making a dent as she squinted in the total darkness in the hopes of pushing her sharp vision even further. "Hang on!" Dissatisfied with her angle, she looked up at the small bit of light above her, Baldor gazing down at her nervously. "Can you lower me further?"

"Further? Are you mad?"

"I can't make out what's in this tunnel at this height; I need to go lower!"

Baldor looked over his shoulder, clearly listening before turning back to Hal. "Albriech isn't so sure this is a good idea. Perhaps we should regroup and try something else."

Incentivized by the challenge of being told to quit, Hal looked away, thinking quickly before an answer struck her. Before she could question her actions, she released the torch in her hand and let it fall.

"What are you doing?!"

Hanging on to the rope hooked to her belt now with both hands, Hal watched the flames drift down, until they stopped only about ten meters before hitting the ground. Hal waited with bated breath for several long moments. When she saw and heard nothing, she sighed with contentedness and looked up. "Take me down, boys!"

Baldor looked positively peeved at her audacity, but her rolled his eyes and gestured to his brother, who did not hide his swears before he carefully began lowering Hal to the ground. She shouted when her feet touched the bottom and felt the rope loosen some to give her movement. The torch still burned, and Hal moved to pick it up, holding it up and over her head to examine the space around her.

For the past two weeks or so since Murtagh, Thorn, and the elves had left, Hal had taken it upon herself to map the entirety of the tunnels that the Sani had called home. There seemed to be no preexisting documents anywhere, and she knew it would be folly to have no idea of potential escape routes or alternate tunnels. So far, she and the Horstsson brothers — aided by Baldor's exceptional cartography skills, honed during his official trainings following the war — had managed to explore approximately ten miles of tunnels so far, but nothing was quite as they had expected.

As of right now, Hal had the distinct impression that she was standing in some kind of storage space. Now on the ground, she could see that not only was she not too far from the man-sized hole above where Baldor watched her carefully, but the walls and sides were altogether closer than they appeared, despite the dismal reach of the flames from her torch. Sure enough, after walking the perimeter, she found a dusted and broken bit of wood that resembled a ladder, and she had a feeling it once stood from the opening to the ground for a much easier means of access.

"Baldor, we can mark this as storage as well," she shouted, "with no additional entrances or exits."

"Yes ma'am!"

Once she was raised back up, Baldor reached over his shoulder and pulled a large scroll from off his back. He moved to the side while Albriech unhooked Hal from the rope, then they both joined him, crouching over the map made of mismatched pieces of parchment they could pull together. It wasn't the prettiest thing, but it was effective. At least so far. Baldor grabbed the quill and ink Hal had given to him from her bag and added the storage space, indicated with a neat 'X' below the line the marked the long tunnel they were traveling.

They had found approximately four levels of tunnels, but it was unknown how far they extended through the mountains. If Hal's ancestors had once sought refuge here, mining these walls themselves, she had a feeling they could run for hundreds of miles. Already this place seemed built for long periods of time, as shown by the multiple storage rooms they'd found. By her and the brothers creating their own guide, Hal hoped she could properly understand the surroundings they would be working with for the next year.

Baldor sat back to observe his handiwork, looking unimpressed. "So far, we've only managed to confirm the numerous rooms that we already knew the Sani were occupying, along with six rooms we assume are, or were, for storage."

Hal squatted down, already feeling a prickly sense of failure she did not care for. "Apparently there are miles and miles of tunnels here. There has to be something of use for us."

"I'm sure there is," Albriech offered, sensing her frustration. "But if there is, the Sani clearly don't know. Tunnels like this, even made quickly, are bound to have more than one way in or out. There will be another option somewhere, Miss Halen. We just have to keep looking."

Hal didn't move at first, half-listening, half-distracted. Her ultimate hope was that these tunnels actually ran the length of the mountain range. Or far enough that the Sani would feel comfortable navigating them underground if they refused to move aboveground. She had one year to figure out how to get them from the far, desolate reaches of the north back to the Alagaësia-proper. Not only did she need a means, but she would soon have to tackle the chore of actually convincing them. She had a feeling walking the tunnels would be faster.

She rubbed her temples, already beyond frustrated and they had barely begun for the day. To think of what she had to accomplish in such a short time frame felt overwhelming. And while she was glad that Baldor and Albriech were here, it was Murtagh and Thorn's naturally comforting presence that she needed right now. She felt too frazzled, torn between missing them and desperate to figure out a proper plan to deliver her people somewhere safe before time ran out.

"Perhaps we should take a break," Albriech hedged carefully, watching Hal through soft, blue eyes. The brothers gazed at her as if they knew what she was thinking. They probably did, seeing how intuitive both were. "We've been at this almost daily since the others left. I know you are eager to finish, but you still need to rest when you can."

"I know," Hal admitted, rising to her feet. "I'm just too anxious to sit still. I need to do something to keep my mind off bigger matters. Figuring out the damn tunnels is the most distracting task I can think of that needs to be done sooner rather than later. Let's carry on while we still have the energy. I'd like to be done with this section in the next week or so."

Assuming she could even tell when the week ended. Stupid mountains, making it impossible to discerns the days and nights. The Sani were on a routine of sorts, but Hal felt discombobulated without actually seeing the sun and sky to determine the time.

"Are we ready to keep going?" she asked.

"Aye," Baldor said, standing tall, Albriech following after him.

Hal smiled, unable to help herself as she said, "Have I mentioned how grateful I am that you both chose to stay?"

Albriech chuckled. "Only every day, Miss Halen."

"I just don't want either of you to think I take your presence for granted."

So long as they did not have to lower Hal down into any additional spaces, they moved relatively quickly through the next few miles of tunnel. Baldor had marked a spare piece of rope to help them measure the distance they traveled, and the map ensured that they could find their way back. Hal had to admit, it was intimidating and impressive to walk the halls supposedly built by her ancestors. She wondered what it had been like for them when they were here. Were the conditions the same, or had they drastically changed over the last few centuries?

By the time they made it back to their respective rooms after a light dinner, Hal wasn't sure if she was tired or not. Physically, her body felt fine, like she could run laps for hours. But her head felt heavy, too many thoughts rushing around now that she no longer had the benefit of being distracted by other tasks.

Having collapsed onto her cot, she turned to the wall and gingerly reached up to her pillow, rather embarrassed as she slid the mirror Nasuada had gifted her and Murtagh as a wedding present. Every night before bed she pulled it out, debating whether or not she wanted to scry Murtagh. She wanted to know he was okay, that was all. However, she did not know if she could stomach seeing him but being so far apart. Not to mention that, even in the confines of the caves and its many wards, she was hesitant to use magic recklessly and put the Sani at risk. At least by doing nothing, she could maintain her own, small bit of hope.

Forsaking curiosity for another night, Hal sighed and returned the mirror to its hiding spot. She needed to get used to this. Needed to be focused, so that she could accomplish what she had stayed behind to do. Hal rolled over and quickly blew out the small candle on her bedside, casting her room in darkness so that she could try and find a bit of sleep before she woke up and did it all over again.

…

For years, Murtagh had this grand notion of what it would feel like to cross over from the western to eastern part of the continent, traversing past the massive Hadarac and the tall Beor Mountains, leaving behind Du Weldenvarden and everything he had ever known. Of course, at the time, the east represented freedom and a new beginning. The start of a life with Thorn that he simply could not live in Alagaësia proper.

However, as the clouds below them cleared on the final morning of their journey, Murtagh was surprised that he felt little to nothing at the sight below. It was rather…plain looking. Disappointingly anti-climatic to say the least.

What exactly were you expecting? Thorn teased, aided by the wind which, for the first time since they had left Ilirea, had decided to move with them and not against. Fields of gold?

Shut it, you know I didn't. But I suppose I did expect it to look…different from Alagaësia.

To be fair, everything looks about the same from the skies. I'm sure once we arrive at our destination, you will have a change of heart. I for one am very eager to see what Eragon has done the last five years.

Aye…

The silence felt loud, and Thorn briefly twisted his neck to glance briefly at his rider. You are still anxious about seeing him?

Not just him. The other dragon riders too. There are what, five now?

I believe that is what Nasuada said. Are you still wary as to how we will be perceived upon arriving?

I suppose I am. Much like how I thought the elves would be with Arya, I imagine that no one will outwardly go against Eragon just to trouble us, but I still worry about some sign of retribution or confrontation. It would be arrogant to assume otherwise. The people of Ilirea certainly kept me on my toes.

I would like to believe that Eragon carries more weight than Nasuada, even though she is fearsome in her own right. Although I do understand your concern.

Murtagh released a deep breath. I wish Hal were here.

Thorn made a low noise of agreement. Her presence is quite calming. But we are on our own for now, and we would be wise to accept that sooner rather than later.

I know, I know. I'm just speaking honestly.

As you should. I do not want to discourage that. I simply mean that, much like when she was unconscious after the siege, we must learn to channel our worry for her into something productive. I have no doubt that she will be doing the same. If we focus on the tasks at hand instead of our emotions, then the months will hopefully go by faster than they would if we were counting every second we are apart. We are a dragon and a rider who serve the crown. There will come a time when we will have to leave her again, and again, and again. Hal is strong, and she will remain such without us there. All we can do is make sure that we're doing what we need to so that we can return to her as quickly as possible.

Well as long as I have you to lecture me, it'll be like she's already with us.

Now it was Thorn's turn to sigh. I do despise you sometimes.

It wasn't long before a single mountain came into view, three distinct peaks that reached towards the clouds. Following the Edda River, Murtagh could understand immediately why Eragon would pick such a location to raise the next generation of riders. The land around was completely flat, making it impossible for potential enemies to sneak up and catch them unaware. Much like Ilirea when they'd left, there were remnants of winter still disappearing, small mounds of snow and slush that were slowly melting into the earth. The sky was a bright, cheerful blue, and everything seemed so perfectly at peace that it was almost unnerving.

Murtagh and Thorn landed a few miles out from the base of the mountain, wary that, like Ellesméra or Morzan's estate, there were protection spells that might keep them from flying in directly. Besides, this gave him a few more moments to gather his composure.

The air does feel different here, Thorn commented, craning his neck to take in the expansive lands around them. Murtagh followed the dragon's gaze, the flatness reminding him of the plains. You could see for miles in either direction. Almost eerily peaceful.

Yes. Peaceful was the right word. Such stillness and silence was possible in Alagaësia, but more likely than not you were in a village or city, bombarded with the sounds of daily life or travelers. Even Illium had teemed with life, the wind rustling the leaves on the trees or lovuk howling from a distance. Here, there was almost nothing. No noise or life by comparison.

Eerie is the right word, Murtagh agreed. However, he knew he could get used to it. The quiet almost begged for him to close his mind and empty his thoughts.

Thorn raised his nose, sniffing the air with interest. A dragon approaches.

Murtagh looked out at the small speck in the sky and felt his heart begin to race with nerves. Although he had talked to Eragon multiple times and they had parted on the best possible terms, he was still uneasy about actually standing before his half-brother after all this time. He knew he was a different man than he was before. But Eragon, much like Nasuada, was someone Murtagh knew would take time for him to feel accepted in their presence. However, Nasuada was one thing. There was something about Eragon that made him feel his stubbornness revolt against such humility.

As they drew closer, it became easier to make out Saphira, her gem-like scales shining in the sun. Even from a distance, Murtagh could tell she had grown over the years. Here we go, he thought, bracing himself. He crossed his arms over his chest only to immediately hear Hal in his head going, He's your brother, rider, not an enemy you need to intimidate. Relax.

Grimacing, Murtagh begrudgingly lowered his arms to his side and took a deep breath.

When Saphira landed, Murtagh could feel Thorn shudder with nerves at last, and he placed a calming hand on his dragon's side, wishing he could be as comforting a presence as Hal. He had selfishly forgotten that Thorn's would also likely feel anxious in front of Saphira after their unfortunate history as well. She lowered her neck so that her rider could jump down, her sharp eyes never leaving Thorn, who had folded in his wings and made himself appear as small as possible in her presence. Once again, Murtagh felt a flare of shame jump up his throat and he could not help but briefly look away, trying to keep his emotions in check.

I am all right, young one, Thorn assured him. I promise.

As Eragon walked closer, the difference between seeing him in person rather than as an image on a mirror felt startling. Real. He could tell by the enthralled look in his brown eyes that Eragon must have felt the same laying eyes on Murtagh as well. Despite the numerous times they had scryed, it was a different experience seeing Eragon's elvish features after so long. Murtagh felt more rugged and thick-shouldered by comparison. Wild man indeed, as Hal had once called him, although that had been more in regards to his beard. Pettily, Murtagh felt a quick gratification that he was, still, a few inches taller than his brother.

They stood a few steps apart, the wind whistling between them. The silence felt loud, and Murtagh had to refrain from making a smart remark or face to ease his own nerves.

"Murtagh," Eragon hedged carefully, his eyes piercing as if he was carefully putting his sentences together before speaking, "I admit when Saphira said she sensed a dragon approaching, I didn't know what to think. But it's good to see you. And you, Thorn."

Murtagh was unsure as to why that made him smile, but it did. "Are you sure about that? I've had warmer welcomes in battle, brother."

He did not miss how Eragon's brows lifted a bit. An acknowledgement without hesitation, a smile, and a joke all at once.

Careful, don't overwhelm him, Thorn deadpanned.

"I apologize," Eragon said, his voice lifting a bit. "I thought I was ready for this moment. It's just all so…strange."

"I agree with you there." It was a simple statement, but the acknowledgement seemed to soften Eragon further. "I know we've spoken, but we haven't seen each other in six years. A lot has changed. And I know my arrival here is rather unexpected. But after the last attempt to get a message to you, we thought it best that Thorn and I just come over."

"No, of course." Eragon agreed quickly, looking almost eager. "I'm just so glad you're here. I feel like I've seen pieces and glimpses here and there, but never a full picture. I suppose I'm just curious. You stand before me familiar in physicality but…you are not wholly the Murtagh I remember."

"Good. Then that means I've been doing something right for once." He knew this particular bit would likely come up again. Rather than dwelling on it now, he turned towards Saphira and bowed his head respectfully. "It's good to see you again, Saphira. Thank you for welcoming Thorn and I. Please take care of Thorn and I while we are here."

Saphira was quiet a moment, observing him with a curious yet harmless gaze. She slowly stretched out her neck, moving closer until they were nose to nose. Eragon has told me much of his interactions with you of late, and I admit that even now you stand before me different than when we last spoke. I am glad you came, Murtagh-Eragon's-Brother. You are most welcome here.

"Thank you."

Yes, thank you, Thorn repeated.

There was another moment of silence, one in which Murtagh had to refrain from thinking of how easily Hal's eagerness and curiosity would break it. Murtagh could not be as vibrant as she, and it was not worth wasting his energy to try. Instead, he clapped Eragon on the shoulder and said, "How about I catch you and Saphira up on everything we know to date. It will be a lot of information, but I'm sure you're able to handle it."

However, to his surprise, Eragon shook his head. "We will have plenty of time to discuss business. Truthfully…honestly, Murtagh, can we just…talk for a bit? Brother to brother?"

It wasn't just the question that stunned him, but Eragon's deep and apparent sincerity. It was startling, but not quite alarming. He thought of how he had been able to bond with Roran, Albriech, and Baldor, and many others. He had established many new relationships over the last many months, but he knew the one with Eragon was perhaps the most strained of them all.

He thought of Hal and the Sani, how she had moved and spoke with them with a bit of wariness. Even in his short time there, he could tell how much it exhausted her, not being able to talk with them as she wished. There was so much self-awareness, with every word and mannerism so intentional so as to not cause distress that it all felt unnatural. Nevertheless, she had not let that hinder her. Besides, he and Eragon had been friends before they were enemies. Perhaps now was the time to see if they could become friends again.

"I would like that," Murtagh responded with a small smile.

Eragon breathed and beamed. "Excellent! I'll ask the kitchens to prepare a lunch for us — I assume you're hungry after your travels. Thorn, since this is your first meal here, we'll go ahead and prepare meat for you too. However, Saphira would be happy to show you around later, just so you know where some of the best hunting spots are."

I look forward to it.

Eragon clapped his hands together. "Great. Let's get started, shall we?"

A few hours later, having bathed, eaten, and now being plied with warm mead, Murtagh was in better spirits than what he had expected. Eragon had given him a tour of the Academy, with its wide, winding tunnels big enough for a dragon to fit through, along with slightly elevated paths that naturally carried them from one level to the next. As big as the mountain had been from the outside, the use of the interior was beyond words. Even Murtagh could not hide how impressed he was as his head swiveled from one detail to the next.

He had been momentarily caught off guard at the sight of dwarves, elves, humans, and Urugals walking through the halls and talking amongst themselves. Mount Arngor was, without a doubt, the most diverse city Murtagh had ever seen. None hid their curiosity as they walked past, and the dwarves made their opinions of him clear even without words. But with Eragon by his side, no one said or did anything worth noting. It wasn't long after that he slowly began to relax, and he had been much at ease for the rest of the afternoon.

No matter where they walked, the walls had been carefully and meticulously sculpted, columns and archways carved into the mountainside for effect. The dwarves' handiwork was as exceptional as ever. When they had passed through the main hall in the center of the mountain, he could look up and see several floors above him, balconies so people could look down below if they so wished. The ground beneath his feet looked almost translucent, like glass, something that could only happen under ferociously high temperatures like, say, from a dragon. The effect was a dazzling work of showmanship, but it was still sturdy beneath his feet.

Flameless torches hung on the walls, providing an added warmth, especially in places where they could not have windows because they were too deep in the mountain. Tapestries from each group claimed a section of wall, evenly spaced out so as to not intrude on the other pieces. It was all coming together, and Murtagh felt a bit inferior as to all Eragon had done in the last six years.

Greatness.

Or peace of mind.

Those had been his and Eragon's options, according to their mother. Of course, Eragon had no idea. And as the words of Selena came to him in his moment of weakness, he took a second look at his brother and noticed the wariness in his face. The exhaustion. It suddenly dawned on Murtagh that he and Eragon had essentially swapped places. After learning of their relation, Murtagh had spent many bitter years lamenting at the unfairness of their different lives. Where Murtagh had been beholden to a legacy not his own, trapped by obligations he had wrestled with in order to survive, Eragon had been growing up loved, surrounded by family and friends. He had known safety and relative peace, where Murtagh had only known betrayal and darkness.

And then Galbatorix had been defeated.

Suddenly, it was Eragon who was bearing the toll of being the one to revive the riders. A task that, despite the glory in it, was riddled with politics and paperwork, two things Murtagh greatly despised. While Murtagh had known he did not, under any circumstance, want to trade places with Eragon, a small part of him had unexpectedly still envied the way people looked at his brother. The respect and awe that Murtagh had never known, and probably never would.

Greatness.

Or peace of mind.

The difference between he and Eragon could not be more apparent. However, Murtagh could finally see all the ways in which that was a blessing. Eragon, he knew, wanted this life. He wanted to live in service of others. Murtagh was still Murtagh. He wanted to serve, but he also wanted to serve himself. He wanted to give in to his own selfish needs every so often, just to enjoy the spoils of living and all life had to offer.

Heavens, if only his past self could see him now.

"You are in a mighty good mood," Eragon commented, jolting Murtagh back to the present. He looked up from his drink, the traces of his smile on his face as he shook his head.

"Just thinking," he stated cryptically.

"I can't recall a time where I saw you thinking with such a peaceful look on your face. I admit, it suits you."

Murtagh snorted. "Is my demeanor really all that dreadful that it's so strange to see me smile?"

"Your demeanor was never dreadful. Just…broody."

"Now you sound like Hal."

"She doesn't strike me as the type of person who is often wrong."

"Whenever you meet her, please don't tell her that. She has this nasty habit of letting everything go to her head and then I have to hear about it."

He took a casual sip of his drink before realizing that Eragon had yet to respond. When he lowered the mug, he saw that Eragon was grinning. "Why are you making that face?"

"You said, 'when,'" Eragon repeated, brightening. "When I meet her. Not 'if.' You plan to return?"

"Unless I'm suddenly not invited, I imagine I would be making frequent trips this way, at least for Nasuada. But if I did not offer it, Hal would simply kidnap Thorn and come herself. And he would entertain her and allow it because he spoils her. Therefore, in preventing the chance that I might one day be left stranded somewhere without my dragon, I figured I might as well offer up the future visit." He lowered his drink to his lap, glancing down. Unable to meet his brother's gaze, he added, "Besides, you are family after all. I would like to not need the excuse of work to come visit."

"Nor do you," Eragon offered quickly, his smile so charming that Murtagh had to fight not to roll his eyes as how grossly happy the man was. "You, Thorn, and Hal would always be welcome here. For however long you need it."

Murtagh glanced up and dared share a smile. "Thank you, Eragon. That means a lot to hear."

Eragon raised his drink into the air. "A toast."

"You don't have to —"

"But I do," Eragon insisted. "I know we parted on uncertain terms. But this feels like old times. When it was just you, me, and Saphira on the run from Galbatorix and his troops."

"Urugals behind us, an uncertain future ahead of us. And you had the audacity to drag my ass through the Hadarac on top of all that."

"Well, you survived, didn't you? Now hurry; even with all my strength, I do not wish to hold this position forever." Begrudgingly, Murtagh lifted his drink as well. "To you and Thorn," Eragon stated. "On earning your pardons. To you and Hal and your union. May you all prosper in life and in love."

"Cheers," Murtagh commented quietly. They took slow sips of their drink, warmth washing over them.

"Tomorrow, I'd like to introduce you to the recruits. They are eager to meet you."

"Should I be worried?"

"I don't think so. I've made my feelings and position clear, but I think your actions have spoken loud enough. Besides, they never got to meet Arya and Fírnen; I think they welcome the opportunity to meet another formidable duo. Besides, I already told them you were one of the best swordsmen and teachers I had, even if it was only for a short while."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Eragon." Murtagh raised his cup to his lip before realizing the silence. He glanced over at Eragon and gestured, "Go on."

Snorting, Eragon leaned back in his seat. "Yes, yes, they are well aware of your fighting prowess. But truly, you and Thorn are skilled and talented. It would be good for them to hear another's perspective besides my own for a change. I feel like I've already run out of things to talk about if they don't pertain to the lessons."

Scratching at his cheek, Murtagh commented, "You know I do not intend to teach though, right? At the end of the day, I am here because we are facing an unprecedented crisis. You and I will have to sit down at some point to discuss matters at hand. We cannot delay long."

Eragon took a deep breath. "Yes, of course. Apologies, I did not mean to sound cavalier. I supposed I'm still just rather excited you're here."

Murtagh held up a hand, gesturing to indicate that no apology was needed.

"I admit that I'm on the fence about how much to involve the new riders. They are still young, but this is a major issue. It would be unwise to keep them in the dark out of fear that they're not ready."

"Aye," Murtagh agreed. "Besides, neither of us were ready. I can't speak proudly to my role in things, but you stepped up when asked. As their teacher, I have faith that they will do the same now. There will always be more to learn but, unlike you, they will not be doing this on their own. And while I do not wish to teach, I am still here to lend a hand and help where I can. That will not change. So tomorrow, introduce me to the young riders and I will tell you all everything I know."

Eragon nodded, a spark of hope in his eyes. "Deal."

By the time Murtagh and Thorn had settled into their new accommodations, a pleasant drowsiness had overcome them both. Like their respective riders, Thorn and Saphira had spent much of the afternoon together, talking and attempting to find a new normal. Unlike their riders, though, they did not have a more positive history behind them, and Thorn had quietly told Murtagh later that, on his own, he felt less sure of himself.

I do not feel as though she was looking down on me or anything like that, Thorn added as Murtagh changed out of his attire. More like I just suddenly became aware of the gap between us. It was less apparent with Fírnen since we did not have a past. But Saphira is different. All of our interactions were in battle. I fear that is how she'll always see me.

Thorn was curled up in a small dip on the room, his tail wrapped around him. His eyes seemed downcast, and Murtagh quickly walked over to comfort him. I admit I had a similar moment with Eragon today as well. It doesn't feel good, the thought that you might not be good enough. Especially since we are to meet with the new riders soon. I wish I could be a better example of a dragon rider than what I am. But that is not my reality.

It is harder to be proud of what we have accomplished. Being here has only reminded me of how far yet I have to go.

How far we both must go. However, do not let your personal feelings blind you to your efforts and accomplishments, Murtagh reminded him gently. We would not be here if not for your judgement and optimism. Your relationship with Saphira may have started differently than we both would have preferred, but we must be careful not to project our feelings onto others. Saphira and Eragon took a chance on us when no one else would. They know better than perhaps anyone how we have changed, and how hard we have worked at that change. If you waver, come to me. But do not erase all the work you have done in the last year. You are a worthy dragon, and you are not less than because of your struggles. In fact, I would dare say that you are stronger because of them.

Thorn made a low noise, running his nose along Murtagh's cheek. Thank you, young one. Your words hearten me.

Anything for you, Thorn.

Despite the feather-soft bed that had been provided in the room, Murtagh took that moment to curl up against his dragon, Thorn's wings folding over him protectively. Even after all this time, Murtagh did not think he would ever get sick of the safety, love, and comfort he always felt sleeping by his dragon's side.