AN: No TW this week~ Let me know if I've missed anything though! Stay safe folks.

The curious thing about Selena was that, no matter how dismal her situation became, she never went down the path that so many of the thirteen had. Not to say she never experienced any negative emotions (it is equally harmful to project perfect positivity in lieu of confronting difficult feelings. They should be acknowledged as they are; with neither indulgence or judgment.) but she did not let them change who she was at her core. Even at her most hopeless, bitter, despairing moment, she was an inherently good person who actively chose (through a supreme effort of will) to do good in a miserable world. Selena taught me that kindness and weakness should never be conflated; the truly kind are not comprised of softness. They are cores of steel enveloped in candlelight, a lullaby sung over a hurricane.

And nowhere was this incredible strength of spirit more visible than in her care of little Murtagh.

I tapped twice on the door of the child's room. It was still early enough in the evening that the room's occupants should still be awake, but I waited for a response just in case. The one time I'd accidentally roused the two-year-old after he'd already been put to sleep, Selena had given me a scolding to put even Galbatorix's barbed tongue to shame.

I heard the thumping of little feet across the floorboards before the door even opened. I knew a tiny hand slapped at the door, liquidy grey eyes peering up at the taller human beside him plaintively— I'd seen it a dozen or so times from the opposite side of the door.

Sure enough, a more controlled but equally excited set of footsteps joined the first. The door swung inward and a toddling green-shirted blur launched himself into my legs. I pretended to stumble under the onslaught. "Ah, a beast! Fair lady, you must rescue me!"

Little Murtagh giggled merrily, clinging around my limb as if it were his last anchor in a wind storm. Selena smiled indulgently and scooped him up, "Come now, dearest. We have to let her inside!"

As soon as his mother touched his sides, he lost all interest in clinging to me. He patiently allowed her to hoist him onto her hip. He leaned his head on her shoulder and whispered, "Can she stay?"

Selena and I grinned at each other. She sighed theatrically, "I don't know yet! We'll have to ask her. Do you want to ask?" Murtagh puzzled over the request for a moment, then shook his head. His messy, deep-brown locks got even messier as he burrowed into the safety of his mother's neck. She rolled her eyes oh so patiently. "Well, how about it? Will you be staying the night?"

I giggled. "I might be able to arrange it… if someone asked very nicely."

The toddler peeked up from his hiding spot. He was an energetic kid, but any chance of him being outgoing and confident had been dashed on his father's bad temper. He was fine conversing in private with one or two people, but certain things— like making requests— were still a trial for him. Hesitantly, and with great effort, he said, "Can you stay?" He blinked, then added hurriedly, "Please?"

The added plea and the glint of tears in eyes put me in a chokehold. I could no more have refused the request than cut off my hand. "There's nowhere I'd rather be." To my surprise, it was nothing less than the complete truth. To be the shadowy agent of a mad tyrant, one sacrifices many skills that others take for granted: skill in the arts, knowledge of homesteading, and any prayer of handling children. And yet, spending time with the pair of them was so peaceful and sweet.

Their devotion to one another was staggering in the best way; unlike anything else I'd known. Noble children were so often seen as bargaining chips or legacy machines; vessels upon which ambitious parents pinned their inflated hopes. Sensible lords didn't even remember their children's names until they were of an age where they were unlikely to die of sudden illness or some such tragedy.

Selena lived all her days for the few precious ones she spent with her son.

It was an honor of the highest order that I should be allowed to visit with them during this— their most sacred time. No word or action could have spoken more highly of Selena's affection, and no utterance of gratitude would have conveyed how much it meant to me.

Murtagh wasted no time. As soon as he'd slid from Selena's hip, he grabbed at my pant leg and tugged me into his room. I hobbled after him, plunked to the floor, and crossed my legs to keep them out of his way. The room was small considering his station; just a bed, wooden chest, and a hanging erisdar filled with swirling iridescence. A latticed window filled the center of one wall, it's heavy drapes folded up to be fully out of the toddler's reach.

Murtagh waddled to the opened chest and started pulling toys out of it one at a time. He piled them into my lap, introducing each with a few garbled words. The first was a wooden soldier carved from a stick, chest dyed a greenish blue with woad. He was accompanied by a fine wooden horse with a real hair tail, a toy sword that was no longer than my forearm, a shield fashioned of woven reeds topped with scrap cloth, and a large, roundish rock. "This is my turtle," he said confidently.

I lifted the rock and twisted it in my hand. From a certain angle, the ridge of a shell and a knobby head appeared. I looked down at him, his face glowing with pride, and asked, "Does he have a name?"

"His name is Flint," Selena added. "He found him in the garden. We feed him once a week."

Murtagh nodded. "He likes leaves. And cookies."

The effort it took to keep a straight face was unreal. "Ah," I did my very best to seem impressed, "he wouldn't happen to like the same kind of biscuits that you do?"

Selena nodded slowly behind his back, rolling her eyes and shrugging indulgently. "We have to keep a steady supply of them around. For Flint, of course." She leaned her back against the window pane, half watching us and half watching the grounds below.

I set Flint back on the ground and the other toys beside it. "You have so many friends. Is Doggy jealous?"

Murtagh looked scandalized. "No!" He sprinted to his bed, stuck an arm under his pillow, and pulled out his very favorite companion. Selena had crafted the toy from fine red wool and stuffed it with unspun fluff. His eyes, ears, and tail were made of cloth scraps but his collar was real leather with a tiny gold medallion. The toy was already three shades lighter than when she'd first given it to the boy; a toddler's love could be an exhausting trial to bear. "Doggy doesn't like the box."

"I wouldn't either. He's very smart for wanting to be in the bed."

Selena, seemingly coming out of a slight daze, nodded sharply. "And, speaking of bed, it's time for you to get settled in."

Murtagh deflated like he'd been punctured. His chin dropped to his chest and his fingers tightened on his precious toy. "No…"

I lifted his chin gently and touched the tip of his nose. "There's no avoiding it, Mister. You need lots of sleep at this age. Believe me, when you get as old as me, you'll miss having an early bedtime."

Murtagh puffed out his cheek and turned back to his mother. "Can we have a story?"

"Alright, but only one. Do you want me to tell it, or Ms. Lilly?"

I hadn't even fully extended my arms before Murtagh was clambering into my lap. "Lilly stories are the best!"

I stood, hoisting the child's unaccustomed weight with a sense of unreality. Even for all she has endured, I can't deny that a part of me envies Selena for this. Galbatorix's mental state was reason enough for me to never bear children, never mind the fact that the process involved at least one co-conspirator… of which I had none. "I don't know about that, but I'll be happy to oblige. But you have to promise to settle down. If you get too rambunctious, your mother will be cross with both of us." I set him on the bed, tugging back the multicolor quilt so he could burrow into position more easily. Selena slid into the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around him and stroking his head. "What kind of story did you want?"

"The one about the knight!" He kicked and wiggled his feet earnestly, eyes sparkling with repressed excitement.

"The story of brave Sir Anthony," I sighed. Of course, any version of Anthony's tale for such a young audience must be greatly edited. Better to let him shine as a legend than waste away as a tragedy. "That's my favorite too."

It pains me that he has few memories of this time… though, in some respects, that is probably for the best. Between Selena's brief visits he was left mostly on his own, with occasional intervention from his drunken gene donor. It's a tragic fact that our minds are predisposed to cling to pain. The process is meant to safeguard us from future dangers… in practice, it blots out whatever joy we may have been able to find. I experienced a similar process when I lost my own mother… just another matter on which Murtagh can commiserate.

I exited the room first, Selena lingering in the room a moment longer. The wistful agony in her stare as she forced herself to close the door was heartbreaking. As much as I wanted to give her space for these poignant feelings, a pressing question lingered. "It's a bit earlier than you normally tuck him in. Do you have to depart so soon?"

She stiffened, ears turning pink with embarrassment. A shy, weak smile replaced the look of mourning. Selena leaned in and whispered, "Follow me."

-:- -:- -:-

We emerged into her garden just as the last drops of sunlight vanished behind the outer wall. The courtyard was a beautiful sanctuary in the cold and loathsome estate; Selena's lust for life had trickled into every plant she tended. They put forth flowers and fruits more earnestly for her than I'd ever seen, like even nature knew she deserved more joy than she got.

I was surprised to see a figure hunched over one of the beds. His fingernails were caked in dirt. A long, grey tunic was tucked up into his belt to keep it from sharing the same fate, and his brown trousers were darker on the cuffs and knees. His hair was stark white, thinned near the crown of his head, and confined in an oiled braid. He dragged a hand over his forehead, a streak of dirt drawing extra darkness over his brown eyes and dots of dust lingering in his considerable brows. His nose had a beak-like nose, giving him the aura of one of the falcons that many lords kept as hunting companions.

Selena kept walking while I slowed to a stop. As soon as her leg entered his peripheral, he rose to his feet and turned to greet her, a kindly smile cracking across his lined face. She clasped his hands in hers and his face glowed, though he seemed puzzled by my presence.

A familiar tingling of unease prickled my spine, though I couldn't place it.

"Fricai iet, there is someone I want you to meet." The woman reached a hand back, palm upturned as if asking for me to take it.

I did not. "Selena, please tell me that you didn't—"

She stood up a little straighter. "I won't stoop to lie about it." I knew from the aura of embarrassment and stubborn pride that my hunch was right. She needn't have added. "I wanted to introduce you to someone very special to me."

"You've taken a lover?" I wanted to swear. Of all the reckless, idiotic things… did she not learn her lesson after the last man she fell for? If he finds out, he'll pluck Murtagh's bones apart with his bare hands!

"It isn't as simple as that," the man said. His voice was unique; an ambiguously unplaceable accent in a rough, confident baritone. "We became friends over the last year. Eventually—"

"We couldn't deny that we'd fallen for one another." She cuddled close to the strange man; guilt, and joy equally present in her eyes. "And… there is more."

The man frowned, whispering to Selena, "Are you absolutely sure? Once she knows, there can be no going back."

"There is no one in this world I trust more; not even you." Selena squeezed his hand. "Love, I would like to introduce you to Lilly; my companion and confidant."

The man's eyes widened so much I thought his eyes would pop from his skull. His whole body went rigid, like a deer preparing to bolt. "Lilleth."

The change to my formal name concerned me more than his reaction. In the Empire, only Galbatorix and the Forsworn had ever dared use it, and even the Thirteen could not do so with impunity. "Lilly is fine. We're among friends, no?"

Selena smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Yes, we most definitely are. And, Lilly, I would like you to meet my partner…" she trailed off, suddenly unsure, "Brom."

The world spun; reckless, wild, unmoored in reality. My hand jumped to Starsong's hilt so quickly that I wasn't even conscious of the action until I felt the cold metal on my fingers. "The Brom?"

Brom snorted. "Unless there is another." His nonchalance was only a veil, and a pitifully thin one at that, for the readiness in his limbs. I knew that he was just as ready to fight as was I, appearance be damned.

My lungs felt cramped from secondhand anxiety. The founder of the rebellion, bane of the Forsworn, last surviving bastion of the riders, and personal nemesis of Morzan is standing in his fucking house! Even during my dual-pronged tenure as a spy I'd never even caught a whisper of Brom's location or activities; he was perhaps the most elusive, paranoid, tightlipped old goat to ever live! But he'll stoop to bedding his rival's wife?! Unlikely! I curled a lip. "So, you've given up killing Morzan and resorted to cuckholding him? It's an interesting strategy, I'll give you that."

Brom's thick, wispy brows lowered. "By your tone, I'd surmise that you think this a ploy?"

"What else?" But, even as I said the words, I saw Selena's crestfallen face and a stab of remorse lanced through me.

"What business is it of yours—" Brom countered, but Selena put a hand on his chest.

"Please, love, let me talk to her." She took a step to stand straight in front of me. Her fingers— roughened from work and now also from training— pried mine free of the sword hilt. "Lilly, I know this is hard to understand all at once. I met him under a pseudonym. He helped in my garden and we got closer. Eventually, he realized that I was unhappy and he told me everything. Since then, I've been helping him."

I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. "Are you mad?" I whispered. "If Morzan finds out—"

"He won't," she snapped. "He cannot."

"But if he ever did… Murtagh would be the first to suffer for it. You must know that!"

Brom stepped closer, laying a worn, grubby hand on Selena's shoulder. "I would never let that happen."

I narrowed my eyes. Does he really expect me to believe that he'd risk his life for the son of his rival? I'd been nearly murdered by so many of Galbatorix's enemies— Brom included!— that the notion was laughable. But Selena's face, so tense with desperate hope, kept the thought quiet. I groaned, rubbing my temple with both hands. "If you brought me here to seek my blessing, you'll not have it— the risks are too extreme and the reward far too fleeting. If you wanted something else, then let's get it over with." I, of course, had every right to say such things. I too had risked my life and worse for the sake of a whirlwind passion twice over in my life, and both times come to regret it.

Selena drooped, but still she embraced me, "I understand. But this is much more than romance. I've been assisting the Varden longer than we've been… intertwined."

I shuddered at the evocative imagery. The idea of this old, bizarre, impassive, unwieldy man "intertwined" with anyone was unsettling in and of itself, let alone Selena! "And what precisely does that have to do with me?"

"Selena persuaded me that you would also help our cause. Was she mistaken?"

Again, a murky crossroads hovered before me. But, this time, I knew that an innocent (all-too-fragile) life hung in the balance. If I'm not going to stop them, I may as well do my best to protect them. I hooked my thumbs into my belt and sized Brom up with a stare I hoped communicated aloofness and not outright hatred. "I would be happy to talk terms another time."

"Terms?" The displeasure of my reply was palpable.

"I've worked with rebels before," I answered primly. I was completely certain he at least knew I was involved with Surda. There was even a chance he knew of my stint in Tronjheim— the thought sent an extra potent surge of liquid ice down my back. "I have learned to take precautions."

Brom hesitated, sizing me up like a corvid surveying a corpse."I'll let you know the time and place through Selena."

"Make sure you're punctual. I'm a busy woman."

Brom…

He sure is a person that exists. He is so very much a human that breathes and I have opinions about that. He also has opinions about my breathing, and I have emotions about those opinions. He most definitely…existed! That, I cannot deny.

There really is no way to politely express my relationship with Brom. We hated each other years before we ever met face to face. I was the heiress of the very empire to which he dedicated his life to destroying. His plans sent many men home cripples and prevented many more from returning at all. I hated everything he represented, even after I saw beneath Galbatorix's mind games to the rot within. I knew Torix was wrong, but that did not make the Varden right. Equally, he believed the worst of the rumors about me; in his defense, there was plenty of ugly truth mixed in with the lies.

It didn't help that we only met after he became close to Selena.

I loved that woman more than either of her husbands. She was a wonder of humanity, a gem and a joy. As soon as I met her lover, I knew things were about to go very wrong. He seduced her away from her abusive husband. For that I thank and salute him; otherwise, I think she may have convinced herself that she was to blame for his degradation. I care nothing for Morzan's stake in all this. No, I was only concerned with the safety of my friend and her son. But Selena was convinced that working with Brom was the only way to alleviate the guilt that plagued her. Between that and her already steadfast affections, there was nothing I could do… short of slitting his throat.

Which was in no way off the table, to be clear.

But the best thing to do in the moment was arrange a meeting with Brom and some of his rebel associates.

Good, he's right on time. My date for the evening broke the treeline with a wary step. He was wrapped in a thick cloak, probably just as much to conceal his shape as for warmth. Now, we wait. Brom had chosen the meeting place, a strip of dense trees between the Spine's foothills and Morzan's estate. It was a nuisance to get into the area undetected, but not as much of one as it really ought to have been.

The spell concealing me was simple in principle and effective. The word, translated literally was, "glance," as in a glancing blow. In practice, it allowed all but the most keen observations to simply slip over me. I existed, but an observer's mind couldn't retain that information. Brom probably had the skill to unravel the deception, but only if he already suspected it was taking place. As it was, his careful nature only aided my illusion— the more confident he was in his abilities, the less likely he was to see through me.

We both waited in the frigid stillness until long after sundown. Neither of us moved, except for his occasional swivels to check his perimeter. Off to our left, a bird call broke the eerie winter silence. A robin out and about in this weather and this time of night? Unlikely. Sure enough, the man raised a hand and called back to his comrades. A few moments later, a handful of figures joined him in the clearing.

The leader of the group pulled down his hood, revealing a very striking face. His skin was darker than any I'd seen, even Amroth's, and gleamed with health in the moonlight. A dusting of hair covered his head, though I suspected it would normally be shaved smooth, and a full beard concealed much of his jawline. His brow wad shadowed so I couldn't quite make out his eyes, He spoke well; confident and authoritative. "We came as quickly as we could, but we had to dodge a patrol group on the road. Now, about this letter—" I hadn't expected to recognize the Varden envoy. His face had not changed much in the intervening years, but everything else about him was almost unrecognizable.

"Freedom agrees with you, Aijihad." Every head snapped in my direction as soon as I released my spell. I slid out of the shadows and removed my hood. None of them seemed surprised to see me, meaning Brom had been honest with them. And they still came… is that bold or foolish?

Finally, my addressee spoke up, "It does indeed, your highness." He did not bow, but I took no offense to that. Neither would have I in his position.

"Under present circumstances, we had best skip the formalities. I go by Lilly."

"Lilly then. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us—"

"And thank you for keeping me waiting. It gave me ample time to watch this one squirm." I flicked a finger at Brom. One of the men tightened his grip on a greatsword. Brom did not respond except to raise one of his precarious brows.

"It was not our intention to—"

"So we are in agreement that intent matters more than deeds?" A hush pressed in on the small space as the group held its breath. I let the suffocating silence press on for a moment longer. "Because, if so, then I wish to clarify my intent in both this meeting and every action leading up to it."

Brom tilted his head like some great eagle pondering a lost hunter. Aijihad finally breathed and dipped his chin. "I have come here for the express purpose of listening to you."

Something about his instant assurance struck me as odd. Did he now? That is… unique in my experience. "The explanation is simple. My only directive is to save lives: my citizens, Varden members, or even the lowest beggars of Surda. The past sixty odd years have been one senseless massacre after another; I will no longer suffer it."

"Then you had better take this matter up with the king," Brom slid in bitterly, "it is on his command that most of these tragedies occur—"

"I have." He fell silent at that. "For many years, I kept the king's counsel and turned him away from his worst impulses. This is no longer possible, thanks mostly to his current state. For proof of my words, compare your losses from two and twenty years ago to those the year after. I spent that second year away from the palace and, in so doing, forfeited any sway I might have held over him —quite against my will. Since then, it has been all I could do to keep him from slaughtering his own subjects in a vain attempt to hunt you down. When I'm not wasting my time ensuring my own safety from the very same agents he's hunting! At last, a solution occurred to me: why waste time and resources defending against one another?"

"If our ends are aligned, that seems agreeable." Ajihad asked, "What precisely are you offering?"

"I will do anything it takes to protect the innocent people caught in this mess."

My continued obfuscations were irking Brom, but Ajihad was content to entertain them. "Will you help us to remove the king?"

"No."

Apparently, my visitors did not expect such a frank response. A murmur of disquiet sent the agents shifting back and forth, hissing amongst themselves. By far the worst was Brom who snapped, "Then how can we possibly trust your intentions? Why would one of Galbatorix's lackeys ever be willing to work against him? And—"

"Perhaps our mutual acquaintance here," I spread my hands at Ajihad, "would care to elaborate on how Galbatorix and his ilk treat their possessions. Or will you explain to me why I should help you take a throne that is, by all rights, mine?" The clearing became deathly quiet as my audience absorbed my words. "I am not willing to stand around debating my right to exist or the value of my assistance. The fact is that you have no say in the first and you desperately require the second."

"Will you swear to that?" Brom's eyes were piercing, his tone chilled. "Will you give us an oath of good faith?"

"No." Again, the crowd balked. "There is no need. Either I am telling the truth and will do as I say or I'm lying. Check my information with your own spies if it comforts you. I will trade you varden lives for empire lives, tit for tat. No one here is working off of empty promises. I shall even deliver to you first," I grinned, the picture of charity, "as an act of faith. Before you decide, you should know: 30 lives hang in the balance."

"You expect to earn our trust by holding our men hostage?" Brom's tone was even and quiet, which I had no illusions was a far worse threat than any shouting match.

"I'm doing no such thing. Your men are following your orders of their own volition. The danger comes from your officers not having the correct information. If you save my men, I will save yours. It is that simple."

Ajihad cut in before Brom could argue further. "What if it is not in our power to do so? We wouldn't want to break face over a lack of skill."

I was really starting to respect this unique young man. "It is well within your ability and comes at a rather low risk. You will inform me where the next supply train ambush will take place and when. I will arrange for the loss of life to be as low as possible for all involved. And, within that train, I will ensure one of the agents who is about to be arrested is among the ranks to be reunited with his friends."

Brom interrupted the flow of our negotiations again. "How can you possibly have the ability to—"

"If your people deliver the when and where, then the how will fall into place."

Ajihad nodded slowly. "We shall consider this first transaction as a test. If you prove trustworthy and your information is valuable, then you have our cooperation. Our only goal is to displace the king; we don't want to raze the Empire itself."

"In that, at least, we agree: Galbatorix must not remain king."

"We could do with some assistance on that front—"

"I am not at liberty to directly oppose him. The results would be catastrophic for me, and then I would lose access to the information you require. But, if you must have some comfort, then know that the one reason I still draw breath is to rip that crown from his corpse."

Again, everyone fell silent. But it wasn't as oppressive this time. Instead of cowering, the assembly was peering at me with a queer appraisal. They're sizing me up…or trying to see if I'm lying.

I wasn't.

"Then I accept your terms." Aijihad extended a gloved hand, "For the good of all of our people."

Brom's grim expression didn't shift a bit.

I accepted the offered hand, "For Alagaesia."
-:- -:- -:-

"That Ajihad has quite the future ahead of him, I'm sure." I didn't bother looking back at my new traveling companion, though his glower was surely eating a hole in my cloak.

"He has a gift for leadership," Brom grumbled, "and he's a good man."

"Really? That is a very rare combination. Deynor is lucky to have him at his side." I patted my leg impatiently, dying from the awkwardness of it all. "How is his little girl? And what was her name again—"

Brom's next words came like the crack of a whip. "If you think you can threaten them in my presence—"

"I'm not threatening anyone!" I whipped around and got an astonishing view of that eagle-beak nose as he almost plowed into me. "It's rare for someone to escape the Forsworn's clutches alive! Is it really so shocking that I would find him interesting? And besides," I stuck a pointed nail into a soft spot between his ribs, "if you think so little of my intentions, then why vouch for me at all?"

"I didn't, and I would never." He stepped around me and kept walking.

I kept pace. "But you did. You brought an envoy of Varden agents out here to meet with me. You must have assured them that I meant what I said—"

"I told them that it would be unwise to ignore such an opportunity even if it…" He trailed off, grimacing as he swallowed the words.

I paused, half-stepping on a bank of frozen mud so my boot cracked the top shell. "Even if it were a trap?" He stopped, but did not turn. "You came here because you thought I was lying. You brought back-up to help you kill me."

His silence was answer enough.

"I see. Well, for your information, I meant every word. That includes the fact that I loathe your little upstart renegades almost as much as Torix does! I hate the endless war, I hate that damnable mountain and everything in it, I hate the spying and lying, and I hate watching you slink around with Selena as if you give a rat's soggy asshole about her—"

That got him to face me again, lined face dark with rage. "My feelings for Selena are not up for debate. Your continued loyalty to a man you claim to despise—"

"To him?" I balked. "How deaf can you possibly be? I don't have a shred of loyalty to Torix. But I am loyal to my people and to myself. Even with everything the king has done, he is still preferable to condemning myself to you. And I owe you no further explanation."

"Honest intentions should speak for themselves—"

I slid across his protests, "I would ask you to remember who laid a trap in bad faith this night. For all the blame you hurl at me, it was not I.'' My face inched towards his, though I had to stand on my toes to manage it. "My only joys in life are vengeance and Selena. If you do anything to jeopardize either, I will not hesitate to rip you apart." I stormed off, branching farther into the forest. I needed to clear my head before I reentered Morzan's home.

I accepted Brom as a necessity, but I did not trust him to be forthright with me.

I offered my assistance to the Varden in precisely one matter: sparing men and resources. They had been throwing soldiers at a superior force only to leave a bloody swath behind them for too many years. If they wanted violence they would have it, but it would be on my terms. They demanded far more than I was willing to give, of course, but I did not demur. Finally, old Deynor acquiesced and I began my third stint as a double agent. Through it all, Brom needled me about, "only feigning assistance to the Varden to keep him from destroying me," and how my, "reluctance," was, "proof enough of my true loyalties."

I owed him nothing and gave him the same.

But, all too soon, he would stoop to take one last thing from me; my newest and dearest friend.

AN: This was definitely a self-indulgent one! Flint the "turtle" has his origins in a conversation some six-odd years ago with my buddies, teasing Murtagh about trying to feed a rock. Good times 3 Well, now his "first pet" is immortalized forever. I hope he brings some joy to others! 3

Also, we hit two big milestones in this chapter!

Tomorrow is the 1 year anniversary of this story! *confetti* AND as soon as I hit "post" we will be over the word count for book one of the Inheritance cycle~ [ For : of that actually text of the story. AO3 doesn't add the notes so it has the more accurate word count... but that's neither here nor there.] Does that *actually* matter? No. But it brings me joy~

Here's to actually sticking to my schedule next year!

Also, I want to send out another huge thank you to everyone who reads and especially to those who comment! TwT I've found so many new people to throw silly memes at~

Elrun ono eom allr. Un du everinya ono varda.

Happy Yule (or winter equivalent)! Blessed be! Fair winds, fricaya. ;)

*Also, stats have been frozen for literal months, so I have no idea if anyone is even still reading over here XD. If I'm not talking to myself, feel free to send some love/hate/neutrality via comments or messages.