Chapter Text
I won’t admit this to anyone, but revolution tastes deliciously sweet.
I stare at my older brother, my only brother, the one who, until moments ago I have grieved for daily, across a work scarred table in the huge and extremely busy kitchen of Villanelles home, her real home, the fortress of Aretia.
Brennan had insisted that I eat something. So here I am, chewing on one of the honeyed biscuits he had put on the plate before me. Damn, it’s good. Really, really good.
Of course, my stomach is swirling like Tairns just taken me on the most complex flight manoeuvres.
Brennan is alive.
I eat, despite the roiling in my guts. I haven’t eaten in three days, three whole days since a not-so-mythological being stabbed me with a poisoned blade that absolutely should have killed me.
Would have killed me if it wasn’t for Brennan, who sits before me, unable to stop smiling as I continue to eat this biscuit.
Undoubtedly, this will go down as one of the most surreal experiences of my life.
Brennan is alive.
No matter how many times I repeat it in my head, I can still hardly believe it.
Venin, dark wielders I had always thought only existed in the fable books are real.
Brennan is alive.
Aretia still stands despite being torched after the Tyrrish rebellion just over six years ago.
Brennan is alive.
I have a delightful new, three- inch scar on my abdomen, but I didn’t die.
Brennan. Is. Alive!
“The biscuits are really good, right?” he asks me, grabbing one from the plate. “They remind me of the ones the cook made back when we were stationed at Calldyr, do you remember?”
I continue staring at him and chewing.
He’s so... him. So normal. Like six years and a continent of heartbreak doesn’t stand between us.
He looks painfully familiar and yet so very different from what I remember.
The boyish curls I always fondly remembered are now gone with him favouring a cropped cut close to his skull. The softness that used to linger in his face has gone completely, he has small lines at the edges of his eyes now.
But the smile.
Those eyes.
They haven’t changed a bit.
It’s him, definitely him.
He’s also still really annoyingly bossy, the condition of him taking me to see my dragons being that I eat something.
Typical Brennan move.
Not that Tairn would ever wait for permission, meaning...
I, too, think you need to eat something. Tairns low, most condescending voice fills my head.
Yeah, yeah. I reply, reaching out again for Andarna. She doesn’t respond, but I can feel her through the shimmering bond that connects us, though it’s no longer the golden thread like her scales.
It’s clear she’s sleeping again, which is to be expected, she always does that after stopping time since it uses up so much of her energy. Considering what happened in Resson, I’m guessing she will probably need to sleep for a good week or so.
“You’ve hardly uttered a word, you know.” Brennan narrows his eyes at me, “It’s getting kind of creepy.”
I sigh.
“No, you sitting there watching me eat is what’s creepy!” I retort, my voice scratchy after several days of non use.
“And? Your point is?” he grins at me, dimples showing in his cheeks. “When you arrived here a few days ago, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t get to watch you do anything again.” He nabs one of the biscuits, chomping off a huge bite.
Ok, so clearly his appetite hasn’t changed, which I find oddly comforting.
“You’re welcome for the mending by the way, consider that my twenty-first birthday present.” he continues around his food.
“Thank you.” He was right, I had slept right through my birthday. But at least I was actually alive to see my twenty-first year.
Bodhi, strides into the kitchen with a wide smile, the sling holding his injured arm the only thing out of place.
“Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh.” he says to Brennan, handing him a folded missive. “This just arrived from Basgieth, the rider will be here until this evening if you want to reply.”
Bodhi nods at me before exiting, and I’m once again struck by his resemblance to Villanelle. He is a softer version of her.
Basgieth? Another rider? How many are there? Exactly how big is this revolution?
Questions flood my mind faster than I can voice them.
“Hold on, you’re a Lieutenant Colonel? And who is Aisereigh?” I ask, cos, yeah, those are the most important questions needing answers right now!!
“I had change my last name... for obvious reasons.” Brennan said as he unfolds the missive, breaking the wax seal. “And you’d be amazed at how fast you get promoted when everybody above you keeps dying.” He reads the letter, letting out a line of expletives before shoving it into his pocket.
“I’m sorry Eve. I need to go meet with the Assembly right away but go ahead and finish the rest of your biscuits and I will meet you in the hallway in thirty minutes to go see your dragons.” All the light-hearted traces of my jokey older brother are gone, leaving a commanding officer I barely recognise in their place.
Brennan might as well be a stranger.
Before I can even respond, he has pushed his chair back and walked out of the kitchen.
I finish my drink and biscuit, before resolutely striding out of the kitchen. I will never sit and wait for my brother to return again.
My heart just couldn’t take it.
I move down the long hall that Brennan had taken. He had clearly been in a hurry as there is no sign of him anywhere.
This place is huge, and very grand. Thick plush carpet muffles my footsteps as I walk into the enormous hall, staring at the sweeping staircases before me. Their polished banisters rise, one, two three four… several floors above me.
Even with just the little I have seen so far, this place has the most stunning architecture I’ve ever seen. Staring up, I can see that every landing is slightly offset from the one below, like the staircase climbs the very mountain this fortress is carved into.
Bright morning light streams in through dozens of small windows on the five-story wall above the huge double doors which are the fortress’s entrance. They seem to form a pattern but being so close I can’t see what it is.
Two guards stand watching my every move, but they don’t stop me as I pass them by. Guess that at least means I’m not a prisoner.
Hearing faint voices coming from a room across the way, one of its two very ornate doors cracked open, I move towards the sound. As I approach, it’s Brennans voice I hear, my chest tightening at the familiar tone. It’s going to take a while to get used to him being here.
“That’s not going to work.” he says, “Next suggestion.”
I tiptoe closer to the doorway, taking in the features of the place as I move.
It’s truly amazing.
Half palace, half home.
Entirely fortress built into the rock.
From my readings, Astankova House has never been breached by any army, even through the three sieges I’m aware of.
Stone doesn’t burn, I recall Villanelle telling me.
This city, now reduced to the size of a town, has been covertly rebuilding right under General Meldrens nose.
Those relics the kids of the executed rebellion officers wear, actually mask them from Meldrens signet when they are in groups of three or more. He can’t see the outcome of any battles they are present for. And so, he has never been able to see them organising to fight here.
Some things here remind me of Basgieth, like the steel-enforced doors at the entrance and the defensible position of the fortress built into rock. But the similarities end there. There’s proper art on the walls here, not just busts of war heroes and I’m fairly certain that’s an authentic Poromish tapestry hanging across the hall from where I find Imogen and Bodhi standing in the open doorway.
Imogen places a finger against her lips, gesturing for me to be quiet, motioning for me to slot in between them.
“Someone has to state the obvious.” an older man wearing an eye patch with a sharp hawkish nose says from his seat at the far end of an enormous table.
He leans back, placing his hands on his rounded belly with satisfaction, having made his point.
That table could easily accommodate thirty people, but today just five sit along one side, all of them dressed in rider black. They are all seated at an angle which would require them to turn fully to see us, which thankfully, none of them do. Brennan is pacing in front of the table but again he cannot see us from where he is.
My heart lurches again and I realise it’s going to take some time getting used to seeing my brother alive.
Alive, breathing and currently glaring at a map of the continent on the long wall, it’s size only rivalled by the one in Basgieths Battle Brief Hall.
And standing in front of that map, one arm leaning against a massive chair as she stares down the table at its occupants, is Villanelle.