18 years later

On days like today, Hal wished that she had thought to plant more trees around the estate. Of course, the open space proved necessary, what with the amount of dragons coming and going at any time. Trees certainly would've made things more difficult. But whenever she tried to persuade Murtagh to even consider the idea, he would snort and say the same thing he always did: "You cannot sing to the trees, iet dunei. We don't need another repeat of last time."

And yes, perhaps she had underestimated the power of song versus speech despite numerous warnings from Murtagh…and Invidia and Blödhgarm. But still, she would be remiss if she didn't at least try, right? Besides, the tree itself had been perfect. She just hadn't meant for it to burst forth in the middle of the market square in Gil'ead. However, Lord Farst remained smitten with Hal, and had applauded the unexpected addition to their great city with laughter, waving off Hal's mortified apologies with amused tears in his eyes.

Regardless though, summer in the Spine was brutal in its own right. With no immediate shading around the estate, it was even worse. While the greenhouse that she had since remodeled could carry a variety of plants and vegetation, some simply thrived best when Hal was on her knees, elbow deep in dirt, outside and under the scrutiny of the blazing heat.

Hal beat on her lower back to try and relieve the minor ache from kneeling and bending over for too long. Just as she was thinking of calling it and heading inside, she heard the soft approach of footsteps before a hat was dropped on her head.

"You should know better than to be out in this heat without protection, Miss Halen," Baldor scolded.

She chuckled, patting down the soil to make sure the replanted seeds were covered accordingly. "Protection?" she repeated, innocently. "Is that not what I have you for, Baldor?" She looked up at him and grinned.

He answered with a stern look.

"In my defense, I thought it would only be a few minutes," she added.

"Which turned into a few hours."

"Don't act so surprised. It is me after all."

He snorted. "Indeed."

Hal finished up and Baldor waited patiently in silence. When she finally stood up, cracking the bones in her neck and back, she then wiped the dirt off her gloves and turned to face her long-time friend and guard. "I suspect that you did not come all this way to critique my gardening habits."

"No, ma'am, I did not."

She sighed. "What is it?"

He grimaced, his eyes apologetic before he even spoke. "We just received word from Murtagh that he is being delayed. He didn't specify why or for how long. He seemed rushed when we spoke."

Hal's throat was tight as she listened, but the displeasure and anxiety was, unfortunately, familiar. She would have no way of knowing if the matter was life-threatening or not until he made contact again or someone else did on his behalf. She nodded. "Thank you, Baldor."

"Do you want me to tell the children?"

"No, no. I'll do it. Thank you."

He bowed his head, but hesitated a moment, his gaze hovering as he examined her face. Hal gave him a soft smile. "I'm alright. I'm used to it. The little ones will be disappointed though. They were looking forward to this."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Hal yanked off her gloves, shaking her head. "No. I'll handle this on my own. As I always do."

She winced, not having meant to say the last part out loud. However, as soon as it left her, the cold, hard truth hung between them. And for some reason, it was always Baldor to whom she admitted such thoughts and weaknesses. He had a way of seeing those vulnerabilities that no one else but Murtagh could. But when it came to Murtagh himself, Baldor knew all of Hal's frustration and wishes.

"He was sorry he could not stay on longer to tell you himself," Baldor added quietly.

"I know he was." And she did know. He was always sorry, when things like this happened, as they had become a mainstay in their lives since his allegiance. Since children. It was always Hal who had to break the bad news and bear the inevitable emotional fallout.

"What can I do for you?"

Hal looked at Baldor. After eighteen years, his face was as familiar to her as it had been upon their first meeting. Granted, he had grown out his facial hair a bit, flecks of grey beginning to push to the forefront. She tried not to think of the day when he would become too old and frail to remain by her side. She tried not to think of any of her friends growing older. Yet she could not help but find herself studying the planes of his face, soaking in Albriech's laugh, or Juliet's shining eyes even more as the years passed. Afraid, of the day she would wake up and find them gone from her side for good.

However, for now, his eyes were as reassuring and kind as ever, and Hal was grateful that she had such a constant companion in her life.

"Could you have Juliet—?"

"I ran into her on my way to find you. She's letting the kitchens know so that they can adjust accordingly. Although I'm sure some of the students will be more than happy with the extras."

Hal forced a chuckle. "No doubt." She wrung her hands, nervous about the one question plaguing her the most right now. "How did he seem?" she asked quietly. "When you spoke with him."

"Tired. Anxious. Probably because he didn't want to disappoint you or the children."

Hal examined her hands for a bit, her eyes barely even seeing the scars as she tried to dig out the dirt from under her fingernails. "It's been ten months."

"Yes," Baldor responded, even though they both knew she hadn't been asking a question.

"The twins will take it the hardest," Hal said with a sigh.

"You're allowed to miss him too, Miss."

Hal shook her head. "No, I'm not." She gave Baldor a pained smile. "Because if I do, the next time he comes home, I'd never let him leave." She took a deep breath, glancing back over her shoulder at the estate that towered above the gardens and greenhouse. "Best get this over with."

Of course, Hal still stalled for as long as she could. Rinsing off in a cool bath before changing into a loose and light blouse and long skirt. She left her hair down, letting her curls fall down her back and over her shoulders, tendrils floating in the breeze that crept in from the open windows, trying to get the air to move around the stuffy halls and rooms. The carpet that ran the hallways was soft under her feet, muting all noise as she dug her heels into the plush, vibrant material.

"Hal!"

She paused, turning to see Layla running towards her. Time had been kind to the young girl, morphing her into a fierce and lovely woman that many strangers claim resembled Hal. From certain angles, that is. She was waving a piece of parchment in the air, a broad smile stretched across her face.

"I've been looking for you. Baldor said I'd find you in the west wing. I have a form for you to sign approving the next supply order."

Hal took the parchment and read over it carefully. Without raising her head, she walked the familiar route to the hallway that connected her and Murtagh's rooms. It was where she often conducted any household business, often with Juliet first thing in the morning. Murtagh had repeatedly offered his office, but Hal always declined. She did not like using the spaces he occupied when he was home; it only emphasized his absence, which she tried to disregard as much as possible.

"Baldor told me Murtagh will be a late again. Shall I muster up a cavalry to go and force his hand and bring him back?"

"I'm almost tempted to say yes simply because I know you'd do it."

Layla grinned. Hal found her quill, dipping it in ink and signing her signature at the bottom. "There you go," she said, handing the form back.

"He'll be home soon," Layla responded. "You and I both know he's just as upset about this as you are."

Hal nodded. "I know."

Layla then jumped into position, raising her hand in a salute. "Captain."

Hal grinned, mimicking her pose. "Captain."

Laughing, Layla kissed her temple before running off, shouting back, "See you for dinner!"

Hal smiled, returning her desk to its original order before rising to her feet, following after Layla. Something about the young girl's energy magnified what Hal had so easily tuned out lost in her own worries. The low hum of movement and people. She stood on her own, not too wary of anyone disrupting her, as so very few came to the second floor of the west wing unless they had immediate business needs. Although some, like Layla, Baldor, Albriech, and, of course, Juliet, were more comfortable entering what was considered the more private floor. Despite all the numerous renovations and rebuilds that the estate had been subjected to over the years, Murtagh and Hal always kept this section for themselves. It was so hard otherwise to find moments alone, whether that was with each other or with their thoughts. Hal was grateful more often than not that they had kept this one bit of the house the same.

She opened her mind along with her senses, letting the sounds and energy flood her body with control as natural as breathing. Everything moved with a rhythm. The kitchens, the house staff as they went from room to room to make sure everything was neat and clean. The east wing had been practically gutted and rebuilt as Hal's school. To date, they could hold about fifty children who needed a home, along with the live-in teachers, and the classrooms where they were taught everything from their letters to the history of Alagaësia. Even when Hal and her family were away, whether it was south on Ilium or east with Eragon and the Sani, the school, the estate really, was always open and ready to take in any who needed it.

An unexpected presence caught her attention, and she felt her expression soften as she turned back towards Murtagh's room. The door was pushed open and she quietly slipped inside, her movements naturally lithe and silent. She moved towards the closet, stepping inside and crouching down towards the small, curled bundle huddled underneath the cloaks, shirts, and trousers that didn't make the cut when Murtagh last left.

She was loathed to wake her youngest, Sam, as he lay nestled and warm amongst his father's things. Him and his twin sister, Hana, were still not quite accustomed to Murtagh having to be gone so long. At only six-years-old, Hal was sure it felt like they had seen less of him than she or Murtagh would have liked.

Hal brushed a curl from the boy's face. His soft, round cheeks were such that Hal wanted to mush her face into and nuzzle. Nina, Teddy, Abe, and now Sam and Hana, all had the same cheeks. The same wide-eyed innocence that always gave Hal pause at the oddest of times. Her and Murtagh. Five precious copies of them, living and breathing as their own people.

"Mama?"

Hal blinked, not having realized that she was still stroking her son's face. "Oh, I'm sorry, my love, I didn't mean to wake you."

He made a low noise, but shook his head. "I could smell you."

She smiled. "You could smell me?"

"Uh-huh. Like flowers."

He was sitting up, but Hal pulled him into his lap. She was certain she would have no more children after the twins. Truthfully, she had thought she had been done after Abe. Each pregnancy had come with its share of complications, but the twins had been the hardest. Arriving years after their older siblings, her body had been pushed and tested in ways she hadn't anticipated after bearing three. And she regretted the months following where she struggled to hold them, look at them, because the memory of that painful childbirth had made her terrified of them.

But, over time, she had managed. Thanks to Murtagh and so many others who were able to care for her when she herself felt like she couldn't care for the twins. The guilt that normally would have eaten her alive had been managed when Murtagh had more or less forced her to return to Illium and rest. And it was during that time of being away from her children, being able to miss them for a change, had helped her regain her strength once more.

Sam curled in her arms like a cat and Hal unconsciously began to rock him like she had when he was an infant. "You miss papa, don't you?"

He nodded. "When's he coming home?"

"Soon, baby. Real soon."

"I miss him. And Thorn."

"They miss you even more," she assured them. "Come. Let's go find your brothers and sister."

She slowly rounded up the children, catching Hana trying to sneak a pastry from behind Juliet's back in the kitchens. Teddy was in his favorite window in the library with an old book of Hal's sketches. Sure enough, Teddy, as the eldest boy, was less upset with the news, but Hal could see the minor irritation in his resigned sigh. She almost wished he were a bit more upset, wanting to stay by her side for comfort. But he had long outgrown such childish behavior at sixteen.

"Mama, you're staring again," Teddy said, dipping his face deeper into the book to hide his face.

"Only because you're so handsome," she teased. She gently pulled his head back so that she could look into his eyes. Both he, Nina, and Sam got Murtagh's grey eyes. Abe and Hana had Hal's brown. And yet it didn't matter. She saw so much of herself in their mannerisms, so much of Murtagh in their temperaments.

"I love you," she told him.

He rolled his eyes, but his smile was there all the same. "I love you, too."

She kissed the top of his head and then left him alone. Sam and Hana were now holding each of her hands, talking to each other in cheery sentences that earned them joyful smiles from the house staff they passed.

They found Abe in the stables with Albriech, the two talking casually until they noticed Hal's approach.

"Good day, Miss Halen," Albriech greeted jovially. "And good day to you Sam and Hana."

The twins, with Hal's permission, went with Albriech to feed the horses sugar cubes. As the three walked off, Abe came to his mother's side, took one look at her face and said, "Papa's not coming home just yet, is he?"

She made a face. "How did you know that?"

"Your eyes," he stated almost casually. "They always seem extra sad when you hear news about papa. And since he was supposed to be leaving today…"

He let his sentence trail off there, but Hal pulled him into his arms and he allowed her. Although Hal didn't have favorites, there was no denying that Abe was probably the most like his mother of all his siblings in terms of his keen observations. Combined with Murtagh's introverted and quiet nature, and Abe could move through the house almost as quiet as Hal when she didn't want to be noticed.

"Hopefully it will only be a few more days," Hal assured him. Then she pulled back and looked at her son in the face. "If not, we'll ride out east to see your uncle and demand he release your father."

Abe smiled. "Papa would be so embarrassed if you did that."

"He would. That's why it would be so funny."

"When's Nina supposed to come back?"

"The end of the year," Hal said with a heavy sigh. "Why, do you miss your big sister?"

He made a face of disgust and Hal laughed. "Hardly. I was just wondering, that's all."

"Oh, of course."

They were quiet for a moment, Hal leaning against the wooden frame of the stables, her fourteen-year-old son in her arms, his back to her. When had he gotten so tall?

They all grew up so fast. And she feared that Murtagh was missing all of it.

…

Halen.

To me.

Hal awoke with Murtagh's name on her lips, the remnants of a dream — or perhaps a memory — already fading from her mind. Although the curtains were drawn, she could tell it was dark and far too early for her to be awake. She groaned, rolling over to the other side and burying her face deeper into her pillows before she woke up completely and sleep was impossible.

Something pulled on her mind, distant and subtle. For a few minutes, she assumed it was nothing more than her exhaustion until she felt it growing stronger. Closer.

Familiar.

She opened her eyes, almost holding her breath as if that would impact what she felt in her head. But sure enough, she felt that gentle touch and closed her eyes with relief, a small smile gracing her lips. She rose to her feet, still tired, but relieved as she pulled on her robe.

Hal did not have to wake the children. Thorn reached out to them each like he did Hal, a gentle assurance that he and their father were close. As she took to the stairs, eager, hurried steps were not far behind. Teddy, Abe, Sam and Hana all ran past her, barefoot with their curls smushed and frazzled from their pillows.

They threw open the front door, waiting on the steps of the estate with eyes to the sky. Abe held Hana's hand while Teddy held Sam's to keep the twins from running off and getting caught up under Thorn while he tried to land.

As always, it was Hal who saw them first, but her smile grew faint with surprise to see that they were joined by another dragon that flew close behind. Her expression fell with disbelief as her chest began to tighten with unfounded joy.

Despite the very rules she had given to her children, Hal quickly broke them with a cry as she took off, her robe flying open. The air this early in the morning was cool, the fog from the Spine travelling low and slow over the estate grounds. The dew was slick as Hal reached the grassy lawn, propelled forward by the sight of her firstborn, Nina, home from the Academy after five years away.

That idiotic bastard, Hal swore to herself, laughing and crying and completely beside herself with joy. Had Murtagh known? Hal was told Nina wouldn't be home until the end of the year? She was four months early.

Hal's desperation had thrown off their landing. Not to mention the children had been quick to follow after her because, well, if Hal did something, then it must be okay. It was perhaps the only time Hal would ever run past Murtagh and Thorn after a long stint apart. Nina slid down from her opal dragon, already crying as she ran into her mother's arms, both women sobbing and laughing.

"My baby, oh my sweet baby," Hal cooed, clinging to Nina like both of their lives depended on it. Then she stepped back, taking the lines of her daughter's face and seeing how much she had grown. Oh, of course Hal had gone east to visit, and they had chatted as much as they could. But if Murtagh and Thorn were busy, Nina and her dragon, Nellie, were almost constantly preoccupied as new riders under their uncle's tutelage. While it had been…difficult, to say the least, letting go, Hal looked at her daughter now and saw that listening to Murtagh had been right. Nina shone with a confidence Hal had not yet had the privilege of seeing, standing tall with the eyes of her father.

"I begged Uncle to let me…accelerate my final lessons," Nina explained, laughing bashfully. "I really wanted to come home."

Hal wiped the girl's tears with her palms. "Then I owe your Uncle a great debt."

Then the girl leaned forward and whispered, "Don't be mad at papa for being late. He decided to wait, but didn't want to tell you so that it could be a surprise."

"Well, he certainly succeeded."

Hal pulled her back into another hug, and she was unsure if she'd ever be able to let go. She looked over at Murtagh: Hana was somehow dangling upside down in his arm, giggling, as Teddy and Abe spoke over one another to catch Murtagh up on what he had missed. Sam had already taken his spot on his father's shoulders, holding tightly onto to Murtagh's hair to keep steady. It looked painful, but Murtagh's expression was so bright as his children basked in his presence that Hal doubted he even noticed.

As if sensing her gaze, his eyes turned towards her. They did not speak. They didn't even reach out over their mental bond. Twenty years together and five children removed such surface-level forms of communication. Everything Hal needed to know was in his eyes.

He was happy to be finally be back home.

…

By the time Murtagh closed the book, the room had fallen completely silent. Hana and Sam were lying on his thighs, Sam curled like a cat, just like Hal when she slept, and Hana sprawled out like a star. Nina was stretched out on the settee, Hal leaning against it with Teddy tucked under her arm and Abe's head in her lap.

He quietly set the book down, reaching first for the twins, who snuggled into his neck while he held one in each arm. He tucked them into bed in their shared room, kissing them both before he returned then for Abe. Although almost fifteen, he still somehow felt as small as he did when he was born. It wasn't the physical weight of him. Just the nature of it all. Did children ever stop feeling like children? He couldn't lift Teddy with the exact same ease like he could the twins or Abe, but he still cradled him in his arms while he put him to bed. He woke briefly when Murtagh laid him down in his bed, mumbling, "I'm glad you're home, papa," before rolling over.

"Me too, my love" Murtagh whispered, kissing the back of his head.

He knew Nina would be cranky if he woke her, even on accident. So, he descended with a spare blanket that he wrapped around her, kissing her temple. Last, but certainly not least, he lifted Hal in his arms, her small smile indicative that she was awake. And probably had been from the moment Murtagh had lifted Abe off her lap.

He descended the steps to the second floor, Hal watching him with piercing eyes. "Your room or mine?" he asked, careful to keep the volume down so his voice didn't echo unnecessarily around the vast halls.

"Yours," Hal answered, breathlessly. "It's closer."

He grinned. Inside, Hal closed and locked the door since his hands were full of her. He laid her down gently on the bed before climbing up himself, situating himself between her legs. He raised her hand that was marked by Thorn with her own shining palm, kissing it tenderly. She watched him with baited breath and great expectation. The house was quiet. For a few hours, they were alone.

He looked at her. At his wife. The mother of his children. He ran his hands up the back of her legs, letting his nails skim the surface of her skin. She barely managed to suppress a shudder. "Heavens, Hal," he muttered, not even bothering to hide how aroused he felt just watching her. "I've missed you."

She grinned as he leaned towards her, pushing her legs open so that he could fit between them. He kissed her, hungry, as his mouth moved against hers. She pulled him down, her way of asking for more of his weight. She moaned into his mouth when he ground their hips together to maximize the contact, and the sound sent a chill down his spin.

They took it slow this night, motivated by the time they had spent apart, the high of his being home. And while Murtagh loved everything about coming home — his children, his own bed, the rest and relaxation it afforded him — there was always something about Hal. The moment they came together as one. Sometimes it happened the same night he returned home, other times, it could be days or weeks. Because when they had a house of five kids to run, intimacy could easily be forgotten and pushed aside for the sake of the children. And in the moment, Murtagh and Hal didn't mind. Their lives were fuller, happier, with the children.

But this? The way their minds would touch, letting their emotions of love and lust intertwine with the other's was just as much about reacquaintance as what happened physically. Mouths and tongues kissed and licked where teeth had scraped and nibbled, leaving faint marks on skin that triumphed over the scars they had each earned in the hard-fought lives. Scars no one but they knew about, not even the children. Here they found acceptance and safety, love and respect. And time had only heightened this because of how sacred and protected it became between the two of them. Yes, it felt good. Damn good. But it was also theirs and theirs alone.

Hal had one arm wrapped around Murtagh's neck, having rolled them over to climb into his lap. The other was holding his erection steady as she slowly guided it between her legs. Murtagh grew flustered at the enveloping heat, burying his face in her neck and chest.

Her thrusts were carefully calculated, languid and easy. The bed sheets were warped around their legs after harried attempts to kick them out of the way. The only light was the sliver provided by the thin moon through the curtains. And yet, Murtagh could trace every curve, scar, and dip on Hal's body blindfolded. He gripped her hips tightly in his hands, his throat bobbing at the pleasure he was feeling. Whenever they hit a spot she liked, she would tighten around him, her body physically clenching as if to hold him to her longer. And he would throw his head back and moan until it passed.

Hal's breathing was becoming hoarse as she pushed on, changing up the pace to fit her needs. Murtagh watched her carefully through heavy lidded eyes, enchanted by the sight of her. Her eyes closed, brows furrowed as though in concentration, mouth hanging open even though no sound came out. The curve of her lips were tempting, but he wanted to watch. He knew she was close. He raised his hands from her hips to her breasts, knowing she would be more sensitive there. The modest swell of her chest fit his palms perfectly, and Hal let out a whimper at the contact, reaching up to take his hands in hers while refusing to let him pull back. He tweaked and pinched at her nipples and she let out another whimper, her speed starting to pick up in response.

Hal's orgasm hit swiftly, and she let out a small cry as she rocked her hips back and forth. Her release washed over him in slow waves: the tight coil of her body, her growing slickness, the noises she made. And the moment he knew it had passed, he rolled them over again and nestled himself on his knees, yanking her legs around his hips as he cupped her under her knees, spreading her open just the way he liked her.

The thrill of burying himself in his wife was dizzying and powerful. The sight of Hal's body lurching at his movements, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as she fought the urge to cry out despite the fact that they had the entire second floor to themselves and — as an added precaution — had put sound-block spells on their room and Murtagh's office, just to be sure. He ached in the worst possible way, his entire body hot and eager. Their breathing mingled together, the sound of their hips meeting filled the room. And Murtagh couldn't hold back any longer, nor did he want to.

His release overwhelmed him in the best possible way, and he and Hal both cried out at the intensity of it. It seemed to ebb in small spurts, ending with Murtagh collapsed on top of Hal. Their hearts were pounding in their chest, shivering from the thrill of it all despite how warm it was.

When he managed to catch his breath, Murtagh raised his lips to Hal's and kissed her. And she happily returned the kiss, her lips stretching into an adoring and satisfied smile until Murtagh forced himself to roll off of her. But he didn't go far. He never went far. He pulled her right into him, fitting her against his side. And Hal snuggled against him, kissing his chest in appreciation before laying her head on it.

"I never have apologized," Murtagh said suddenly, looking down at Hal as she raised her head to him, "for all the stress I've put you through by being away from home. And I cannot remember the last time I thanked you."

"By your side, rider. Always." Then Hal grinned wickedly up at him. "But if you are so inclined to thank me again, I could think of a few things that might show your appreciation."

Murtagh shook his head, but his body responded to her teasing all the same. "You are insatiable, Mrs. Morzansson."

"Careful, Shur'tugal. Otherwise, I'll find something to occupy that cheeky tongue of yours with."

"Hmm, is that a promise?"

He rolled on top of her before she could answer, her laughter quickly cut off by his kiss. Tangled in each other was how they spent the rest of the night, time seemingly coming to a standstill. As if it knew how desperately they needed this. Craved this. This union which had begun just over twenty years ago had weathered distance, children, obligations, and tragedy. Hal was his lifeline. Murtagh was Hal's.

In that moment, neither could know the hardships that would come after this night. Nor could they know the moments of joy that would then follow. To watch their children find their own joys in academia, in service to their country, and their own budding families would only capitalize on this growing happiness they had found. And one day, they would reach an age where they finally had more good memories than bad ones. When the ghosts that had once haunted them would begin to grow quiet, and soon fade as the life they were living became louder than the death they had faced.

Somewhere out there, their future awaited them. Life awaited them. And when it came time to face it head on, Hal and Murtagh were ready as they ever were. Holding on tightly to each other, standing on the edge of a cliff, smiling forever into the sunrise of each new day.

Fin.

A/N: This ending was truly a long time coming. I admit, part of the hold-up was largely my own self-doubt about the direction of the story. Was it enough? Was it too much? This became a greater undertaking than I could have anticipated, seeing as how it started off innocently enough.

To those who might reach the end of Hal and Murtagh's story, I thank you. Truly. Because to have invested your time into them means the world to me. I do hope you enjoyed some part of it.

I know the world is shit, but if you're reading this, I wish you all the best. May you overcome your own doubt or fears in order to take that leap of faith off a cliff, trusting that instead of falling, you soar. As if on the wings of a dragon.

xoxo, Ashley