---------------

Lysandra

She was moping. Yes, she would admit it now, she was moping most thoroughly. All her carefully laid plans were exploding in her face, and nothing seemed to go right.

The valkyries were raining fire on Cobalt and likely to take the city with no Kallian soldiers left. Her mother had locked her in her rooms, and she had exhausted all methods of getting herself out without raising suspicion. She was likely to spend her days rotting in her chambers with nothing to do but read books she couldn't focus on as the valkyries lay siege to Crimsith.

A mere few weeks ago she had been ready to execute her plan and take her place as Heir of not only Kallias, but also the Asrieli Archipelago and Miras. Even after that she had been dancing in a ball thrown in her honour, the crowned Heir of Kallias and eventually the elfin and valkyrian lands, her older brothers dead and the whole world spread at her feet.

How quickly things change in a war. The death sentence of Crimson blood now seemed to stretch tighter across her neck with every passing day and the dagger in her vaults seemed to be heavier as the days went on and she imagined it across her throat at the hands of the feared general, Myra Isidore. She continued to stew on things that would probably be best left alone, such as: will my execution be public, or will I die rotting in some cell? Will they poison me, or hang me or behead me? Will they examine my blood for any special properties?

Unfortunately, her mind was preoccupied by this and not more practical subjects, like: if I can escape, where do I run? Do I use my magic first, or keep it as a surprise? How can I get a sliver in Queen Viktoria's brain?

Well, she tried the last one, but ended up picturing a knife in hers so thought she might leave that alone for now.

There was a knocking on her door and she was bored enough that she opened it. Aaron stood outside, smiling faintly at her.

"I'm sorry about all this, Sandy." He said mournfully. "It's just a stage...Mum will get over it. I know she will. I tried to reason with her, but she just won't listen...I think she's just shocked by what Mark and the others did, that's all." Her brother seemed to now insist on nicknames for his brothers. Clearly, he was continuing to soothe his conscience about not caring that his elder brothers were all dead.

"Mark?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "Also, next time you come you better bring cookies."

"I'm sorry. I was in such a rush to see you...you must be so lonely, Sandy. I'll be here when I can."

"Are we going to continue ignoring the subject of the valkyries?" she questioned. Aaron went silent.

"Mother will handle it," he said at last. "Mother always handles things." The pair sat down by the table and Aaron lowered his voice to a whisper.

"You know I'd help you out if I could," he said meekly. "It's just if I do Mother will get angry again and she'll lock us both up for a long time...she's really sorry she has to do this to you, you know. But it's just paranoia and she'll get over it..."

Lysandra droned out her brother's words of reassurance about the war and her imprisonment. If he truly believed anything that was coming out of his mouth then he was a fool, lying to himself. This was not a 'stage' that their mother would get over. The war was not suddenly going to be won by the army-less Kallians.

"...tell me you forgive me, sis." He finished lamely and looked up at her with such lament that her heart melted. "For not coming here sooner and not being able to stop this."

"Of course, I forgive you," she said sincerely. This wasn't Aaron's fault, and if these were their last days then she wasn't going to let her brother spend them feeling guilt over this.

"Do you forgive Mum?" he asked her hopefully. "I mean, do you still love her?"At this, her eyes froze with a long hatred.

"I do not forgive her," she told him, such ice in her words. "And I never loved your mother."

---------------

Nala

She faced the crowds of insurgents watching her with a lump in her throat. Even with the numbers depleted after the supply attacks, they were still strong. This was her first time facing them as their leader and a lump was in her throat-whether from nerves, the death of her friend or both, she could not tell.

"The valkyries are in Cobalt, laying siege to the city," she told them, parroting what they already knew. Right now, the rebellion was gathered in Karone, where it was easy to stay hidden and easy to lose sight of your purse. Cobalt was a mere day away. "We will find them and aid them in their quest to depose the Empress. All units assemble."

Short, snappy and ruthlessly practical. Just how the Chancellor would have liked it.Nala rode at the front of their gathering thousand insurgents, her beautiful white mare looking very much like leadership material. The Chancellor had favoured a dark brown stallion which he had snuck apples.

Of course, they now called her Chancellor. Chancellor Merson.

Halfway through the day the travelling pack of rebels began to discern the city of Cobalt and plenty of them gave a start at the sight of the once imperial, sky-reaching city.The highest skyscrapers, pride of Kallias, had lost half their length and all their shine. Huge pieces were gouged out of the walls. The hill near the sprawling commerce city was charred and inhabited by an army that surrounded Cobalt.

Some of the insurgents here merely had memories of Cobalt as a Coastal they might have visited once or twice and hated the reek of Crimson loyalist that hung around there. Others remembered it as Lasith, an ally in the original war against Medea. Others still, Midlanders and Southerners, watched it with curiosity: so, this was a Coastal. Was Kazimiar, originally Tarua Teris, like this? Well, would it be like this when the valkyries had laid siege to it for three long nights?

As the day turned to early evening the valkyries noticed them and one of them rode towards them warily.

Nala noticed that she bore a multitude of scars and that she seemed older than the other valkyrie warriors were said to be. A cloak of light purple blew about in the wind behind her, and for a moment her heart skipped a beat. But no, this wasn't the darkest violet cloak of High General Myra. This was someone else.

"I am General Calais," the newcomer said. Nala also noticed that this Calais bore a multitude of weapons. "What is your business here?"

"I am Sp-Chancellor Merson.I lead Tarua Teris, the second rebellion. We are the ones who have been cutting off supply trains-as best as we could."

"The second rebellion?"

"We were born from Tarua Teris, the lost city of the Warlord Era. We are here to help you bring the Empress to her knees."

"Did you say Merson?" Calais asked skeptically.

"Nala Merson," she confirmed.

"Then I suppose you want to see your nephew,"

"I would like that very much."

"Place your people around the city. The elves could do with some decent fighters to replace them." Calais said, more a suggestion than a command. "You'll speak to Jasper Merson and the High General shortly, Chancellor."

General Calais led them through the war-camp and Nala desperately rehearsed what she wanted to say.

What could you say to your nephew, who you thought was dead for two years and who thought you were dead for four? The nephew who you had hide from. What could you possibly say?Jasper stood in front of her, taller than she thought he was from her glimpse months ago. He looked so grown-up, but she supposed that was natural. The last time she saw him he was thirteen, and he had aged four years since then. His hair had grown darker with age, it seemed, but was still a mop of uncontrolled and unbrushed curls. He was starting to show the faintest trickle of a beard, but those green eyes still held the same laughter. She wondered if she had changed as much.

He saved her the trouble of starting first.

"Nala," he said hoarsely. He ran into her arms just like he had when he was a kid and skidded on the floor. She wrapped him in her arms and the movement came so naturally, even though it had been seven years since he had let her do that.

"I thought you were dead," he said, half-accusatory. "I cried for you. Father was never the same."

"I had no choice," she said, half-pleading. And as the hours passed by, she told him her story, of how she had discovered secrets that had forced her to leave him behind and how she had become Spymaster and Chancellor

"I am sorry, Jasper," she said when she finished her story. "I always wanted to come back to you and your father." There was a silence that came afterwards as they hugged each other tight and Nala knew she was forgiven.

"I know your story, too, my son," she reassured him, referring to the letters that he had sent to the first rebellion. Later she would reflect that she saw him flinch a bit at that, but he made no move to talk to her about it.

"I still can't believe you're alive," he choked out.

"Me? I didn't believe that you were still alive until I saw you in the flesh." Nala replied. "Oh, we'll make up for those years we were apart, won't we? I hate that-that I missed that piece of your childhood. And tell me-tell me about Peter."

"Uncle was brave to the end. They all were. He loved you until the end to-never remarried and he was never the same after you disappeared."

"I was never the same after, either. Tell me about them all-Gareth, Natalie, Evelina."

So, Jasper told her about them all and how they had died. They spent the day with do-you-remembers and tears, lost in the joy of discovering something infinitely precious that you thought had lost forever.

-----------------Myra

Myra watched as Jasper spoke to his aunt and could not help but smile, picturing her sweet Kestrel. Kestrel whom she might see again soon, with her painting flourishing and her study of politics and governance neglected.

She was happy that Jasper was reunited with his mother after all this time. And worried that he had still not told her the truth. Nala Merson believed what the first rebellion did; that Jasper had been a spy acting on the valkyries' behalf.

Myra didn't blame him for not wanting her to know. When her mother, Ferius, had been alive she could not bear the thought of failing the distinguished warrior. All of her injuries and blights had been courageously covered over and all her victories had been perfectly polished and slightly exaggerated. Even when she was training, Myra tried twice as hard as anyone else to keep her marks up and finish the year top-ranked every time.

But this lie could never last. Hiding scrapes and low points were one thing. Hiding betrayals and two years in the army was hopeless and doomed to end in pain. Just the helpless, guilty look in her friend's eyes told her that Nala would soon realise that Jasper was hiding something. It was obvious to her as his friend and must surely be obvious to Nala as his adoptive mother. The lies were running like water through Jasper's hands, and soon enough they would all spill on the floor and the truth would be bare.