Pömnuria Hjarta er Medh Ono

A/N: After that last chapter, this one is such a breeze. Thank you to ALL of you who ever read this story and left me a kind note. This is OFFICIALLY THE END. And boy was it a long time coming.

ENJOY!

FOUR YEARS LATER

The light in Murtagh's room was dim from the curtain half drawn over the open window, allowing for the illumination from the tiny candles dotting the room to take over. Personal belongings were scattered about the room collecting dust in their permanent places along the shelves on the walls and places on the floor. After so many years of being able to hold all of his belongings in the saddle bags on Thorn's back, there was almost too much empty space for him to fill up. But over the course of three years, various trinkets, furniture, clothes and weapons found their way to the blank spaces and gave it a sense of home that he had never felt before. In the corner of the room stood a full-length mirror, half shrouded by clothes hanging over its top, in front of which, Murtagh stood with his shirt off and his back facing the glass. Smooth, unbroken skin reflected back at him.

I still can't believe it's gone, he said to Thorn. It was a part of me for so long it's odd to see it missing.

The spring healed more than we hoped it would, the dragon responded slowly. An image of his own freshly healed tail popped into Murtagh's mind. Perhaps this is our chance to really start over. Move beyond the scars of our past to become who we were meant to be.

Murtagh continued to stare at his unblemished back mulling over Thorn's words. Move beyond our scars… All the years they spent being angry and hurt came back like a bad dream, but the raw emotion refused to stick. The anger felt so distant to him now, like the person he had become just couldn't find it within him to feel the same way. It was almost refreshing, in a way, to be unable to identify with the state of mind he had been only a few years prior. It was proof that healing really did come with time.

As for everything else, time had merely pressed on. After the fight by the spring, putting an end to the issues in Surda was almost too easy. With the majority of Rasenth's forces already defeated and Rasenth's subsequent death, it took Nasuada all of an hour to develop a counter plan to finish off the remainder of their group. Over the following year, the Nighthawks hunted down every scattered crystal that found its way across Alagaësia and promptly quelled every uprising left by the group Rasenth had started. In the wake of the wild magic finding its way around the Empire, Nasuada couldn't bury its existence back into the ground. Instead, she was forced to acknowledge magic head-on for what it was worth beyond its use in battle and develop a way to market the shards as tools instead of weapons. It was a long-drawn out process that took far longer to talk about than to implement, but the preliminary results had looked promising.

The remainder of Rasenth's forces were brought back to Ilirea and put on trial for their wrong doings. Most were allowed reprieve from capital punishment for a crime they did not commit, but several were not so lucky. Drayok Rasenthsson was offered the choice of permanent exile or to forever work to repay his debts to the Empire. To everyone's surprise, he chose the latter. He expressed his determination to make up for the transgressions he caused against those who had shown more loyalty and concern than his father ever did. He vowed to do whatever he could to get back into the good graces of Nasuada and the Nighthawks, but did not entertain the idea that he ever would. Nasuada remained stern and unmoving before him, but behind closed doors was open to the idea of reevaluating him after a decade or so.

After the trials had ended, Orrin made a public display as he kicked out the traitorous advisors who once sat on his court. He swore to the people of Surda that he would never again allow someone else to lead him astray from ruling the kingdom correctly, and to some people's surprise, he kept his word. It took him a while to find solid footing in the political spheres and government, but after he got the basics, he did everything in his power to find out information and make good decisions for Surda. As for his proposal, he accepted Nasuada's rejection with a sense of dignity, citing his desire to learn more about being a proper ruler as his reason. Though, by that point, it was no secret that the High Queen was in love with the Red Rider. Murtagh suspected that his dignified response was nothing more than an attempt to save face.

As for Murtagh and Thorn, settling down in Ilirea had taken some time. Remaining beside Nasuada had been their main priority, but lingering in the same location for too long made them antsy. So, over the years, they took long trips around Alagaësia reaching out to locations that needed help in an attempt to live up to the image Nasuada envisioned for them. It was a slow process, but one that was gradually starting to pay off.

A soft knock drew Murtagh back to reality. He pulled his shirt over his head. "Come in!"

Nasuada peeked her head in the door and gave him a smile. Her hair was done up in a thousand tiny braids half twisted into an up-do behind her head and strung long down her back. She wore an embossed leather corset over a glittering gold dress and a gold circlet placed tastefully a top her head.

"I've been informed that dragons have been spotted along the horizon," she said stepping into the room. A moment later, she frowned. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"Because I like when you come to fetch me from my room," he responded walking over to her. She gave him an unamused look but didn't resist when he slipped his hands around her waist and drew her in close. He placed a lingering, warm kiss against the dip behind her ear. She gave a breathy laugh. "You look beautiful, Nas."

"Of course I do," she responded, leaning into his touch. "I have ten attendants to help make sure every strand of my hair is perfectly in place. So, you best not ruin it or they'll have your head. I can't guarantee your safety."

"I think I can deal with a couple of snotty women long enough to spend a few moments with my betrothed." The word slipped from his lips like butter and he let the warm feeling cascade over him like it did every time he said it. Her smile grew fond and she cupped his face with her hands.

"Okay, maybe I'll defend you just this one time," she said and leaned forward to kiss him fully on the mouth. Her lips were soft and he practically melted against her touch.

Just as he was losing himself to the rush of emotion, a blast of excitement lit up in his head, echoed by an enthusiastic roar from the roof of the castle. Dots of vibrant color flashed into his head; one yellow, one burnt orange, one emerald and, the most significant one, sapphire. Distant roars returned Thorn's cry. Murtagh pulled away from Nasuada with a regretful smile.

"Looks like our time is up."

She shrugged and gave him one last peck on the lips. "Duty calls."

Murtagh sighed and went to hook his sword to his belt. "Duty always calls."

"One day it may not," she responded, helping him put the leather guards on his forearms. "We'll have our time."

He gave a quiet scoff. "Ironic words coming from the High Queen of the Broddring Empire."

"Kingdom," she corrected as she pulled the leather guard tight. "And you and I both know that Jörmundur and the Council can take care of themselves for a night if I wished it. We'll have our time."

Murtagh rolled his eyes and slipped the protective leather vest over his shoulders. "I'll remind you of that when you refuse to go on a flight with me and Thorn claiming there's 'too much to do'."

Nasuada pulled an unamused face and put her hands to her waist. "Don't patronize me, Rider."

"Then don't patronize me, Your Majesty." Murtagh dipped in for another kiss before she could snap back at him and took hold of her hand. "We could argue all day or we can go meet Eragon and Arya in the fields. Which would you rather do?" She went to open her mouth again and Murtagh quickly covered it with his hand. "Never mind, don't answer that."

"Hey-!"

If you two are done flirting, I would like to go meet the other dragons now, Thorn interrupted impatiently.

Murtagh chuckled lightly and avoided the look Nasuada gave him. Okay, Thorn. We're on our way.

"I'm not going to forget what you said just because we're needed elsewhere," she said as he led her to the door in the corner of his room.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

They followed the staircase behind the door to the access point on the roof where Thorn waited for them. The dragon stood proudly with this head lifted high and his eyes to the sky as the small troop of dragons swooped in overhead and went to land in the field outside of Ilirea. Thorn dipped his head to the two humans as they approached, and allowed them to climb onto the saddle on his back. He practically vibrated with excitement.

It has been a while since we last saw them, hasn't it? Murtagh commented.

Too long, Thorn agreed.

He waited until Nasuada was properly strapped into the saddle before crouching down and powerfully launching himself from the roof. The Queen laughed from joy as he snapped open his wings and dove to skirt the tops of the buildings making up the bulk of Ilirea. With a few powerful strokes, they soon blasted past the edges of the city and circled above the four dragons perched on the ground. Thorn gave a long series of chirps, to which Saphira responded to warmly. The other three dragons looked up curiously as Thorn swooped in to land. Aside from Saphira, the other three dragons were strangers, but he still remained curious with his head lifted as he waited for Murtagh and Nasuada to dismount from his back.

"Murtagh!"

The Red Rider lifted his hand in response to Eragon's warmer greeting, keeping his eyes trained on the Elf Queen lingering beside him and her two students. Arya had never been his favorite person; she was a little too reclusive and quick to judge for his liking. But she was a Rider, and over time they had managed to find a civil respect for one another. Her students, on the other hand, still regarded him with hesitation. He had only met them once before in passing as they left the Skulblaka Nidum and it was clear that they still held the old impression of him from the days of Galbatorix's empire. But, whatever reservations they had toward him, they kept to themselves in favor of more polite alternatives.

Eragon, on the other hand, was more than open with him as he walked up to his brother and gave him a wide smile. "I would have thought you'd already be out here to meet us. Your letters made it seem like you were almost excited for our visit."

Murtagh shook his head good-naturedly. "I might have been waiting for you if you had been on time. You swore you would be here for the opening ceremonies of the Urgal Games yesterday."

As if on cue, a distant cheer resounded from the large arena build a league away from Ilirea. The festivities surrounding the battle arena carried on with a lively jubilance as the citizens of Ilirea and travelers from all over Alagaësia celebrated the assembly of their races for the purpose of sport. Eragon looked over to it alertly, his interest piqued.

"Ah, well… Something came up that prevented us from arriving on time," he said off-handedly. He gave an unintentional glance toward Arya, but she avoided his eyes. "But that's no matter," Eragon continued. "We're here now and that's all that matters. Please tell me we didn't miss our fights already."

"What you're hearing is the preliminary matches." Nasuada said with a smile. "When the people heard that the Riders from Galbatorix's fall were going to fight this year, we received so many willing participants that we needed to implement a weed-out bracket. I suppose the allure of going toe-to-toe with so many famous combatants was too much for them to ignore."

"As it should be," Arya agreed, her lilting voice sharp with pride. Her eyes also drew longingly toward the arena. "It's been too long since we had a good chance to show off our skills. We do not want people to think diplomacy is the only attribute we have as Riders."

"Even in times of peace, I doubt that anybody could easily forget the fortitude of a Dragon Rider," Nasuada responded. "Your reputation still proceeds you."

Arya looked back to Nasuada and gave her a small, grateful smile. "I look forward to reminding them."

As the conversation turned more toward the mundane, one of the younger Riders, a demure elf who went by the name of Anafel, stepped forward. "Excuse me, Ebithril."

Arya turned toward him. "Yes?"

"It seems we have a visitor." He gestured to the side and they all turned to see a boy running toward them.

"Murtagh!"

The Red Rider smiled as Eri, now a boy of nine years, trotted up to the group. He held his arms close to his chest and looked about the group a little nervously.

"Um," the boy said a little shyly, looking up at Murtagh. "We came as fast as we could when we heard Thorn call."

"We?" Eragon repeated curiously. Eri glanced at him and stared, wide-eyed, as recognition washed over him. As he stood star-struck, a tiny purple head poked up from the cradle of his arms. Instantly, everyone had their eyes on him. In the midst of all the attention, Murtagh smiled and placed a hand on the boy's sandy hair fondly.

"Eragon, I'd like for you to meet Eri, the youngest Dragon Rider," he said.

Eragon's eyes lit up with a million questions, but most of all, excitement glittered amongst his blue eyes. "Really? And how did that happen?"

"You remember how Thorn and I carried the eggs to the Urgal encampment last month?" said Murtagh. Eragon nodded. "Well, I made a short stop in Ilirea along the way. I only meant to show him what dragon eggs looked like. I never expected any of them to actually hatch."

"That's the curious thing about dragons," Arya spoke up. "You never know for what or whom they choose to hatch for." She gracefully knelt in front of Eri and held a finger out to the tiny purple dragon. "Does your dragon have a name, little one?"

Eri looked at her shyly. "She hasn't told me yet."

Eragon's demeanor almost seemed to melt at the boy's words. He watched fondly as Saphira craned in closer to sniff the tiny dragon. "Well," he said. "I'm sure she'll pick a perfect name when the time comes."

The tiny purple dragon sneezed under Saphira's motherly attention and Eri smiled. "I hope so!"

As the Riders and their dragons drew closer to the youngest of their group, Murtagh was struck by the significance of the moment. For the first time since Galbatorix's death, all living Riders and their dragons were in the same location at the same time. And, for once, they were all on the same side. There were no enemies. No battles to be fought. They were the beginning of the new era of Dragon Riders; the beginning of a new era of peace in Alagaësia. And for the first time, Murtagh didn't feel like a stranger. He felt as if he truly belonged. At that notion, Thorn gently nudged at his shoulder. The Rider looked at Thorn through slightly misted eyes.

I believe it's finally time, the dragon said.

Murtagh furrowed his brow. Time for what?

To be happy.

He felt a hand touch his and he turned to Nasuada. She gave him a small, heartfelt smile and slowly threaded their fingers together. He returned the smile and closed his eyes, allowing the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.

Yes, he agreed. I think it is time.

Thorn's approval warmed the back of his mind and a slow, steady contentment began to build in his heart. If everything he had experienced led to this path—his traumatic childhood, meeting Eragon, being enslaved by Galbatorix, falling in love with Nasuada, and the trials of the Urgal curse— then he was glad to have finally arrived at his final destination. Peace was all that waited for him now.

And he was more than ready to finally accept it.

Fin