A/N: my, my, that last one was a long chappie! I've taken to writing up in the attic on an ancient laptop so I can be alone. ;) With any luck, this one will be even longer…. And about Briar! How wonderful I am!

Corus was a wonderful city, no doubt about that, Briar mused as he wandered down a back alley. Organised street life, lots of culture, plenty of pretty girls… But when it came to greenery, it was definitely lacking. The stray patches of grass sprouting between stone slabs were withered from trampling and pollution; those citizens who kept gardens were all up near the palace, and let their employed gardeners do all the backwork. Briar was rather concerned about this; mainly because his teacher, Rosethorn, had been looking ever so slightly peaky lately. She needed plants. So did this grey place. So every now and then, as he strolled aimlessly through the street, he would lean down; with a soft touch, rejuvenating some fading petal of browned shoot. He understood there had been a plan a few years back to put trees into the lower city, but the crown had vetoed it as frivolous use of funds. Briar growled under his breath. Trees, frivolous? Just let him meet the prat of a bag who'd said that, and he'd show him what a tree could do…

Ahh. Sandry would be mad at him for thinking like that. It was something about the air of the lower city. The pungent smells spoke volumes to him, dragging him back to those years of his life he would rather forget. But you couldn't cut something like that out. In some part of him, he was still the street rat who had cut his way through money-bags and, occasionally, flesh in order to get even a crust to keep himself alive.

He didn't regret those years, not as such. He didn't regret doing what he had to, to stay alive. He wished it had never been necessary, but wishes still didn't put food on the table. And, of course, people like Sandry-Briar thought of her with a twinge of affection for his foster-sister-still insisted on believing that he had been 'a good soul all along'. They used phrases like 'a diamond in the rough'. Well, he hadn't been. He'd done what was necessary to stay alive, and he was well over that now. But he still didn't like Bags much. Sandry and her uncle were exceptions, naturally.

Of course, Sandry had watched her city die around her, watched everyone she loved wasting away. That had probably given her a slightly less naïve outlook. In a way, it was the one thing the four of them had in common; Tris's family abandoned her, Daja's had drowned, Briar had never really known his. It didn't matter much any more, it seemed; their old lives had been stripped away like faded paint, leaving only faint staining traces on their conscious minds. They were each other's family now, sisters and brothers with four parents, an uncle or two and a couple of cousins. It was a better family then most.

Of course, girls didn't always see it that way. Sandry had been acting funny lately; Tris and Daja had told him in very crisp tones that she had fallen in love, and he wasn't to go interfering.

Well, they could forget that right now. As her brother, it was his duty to go around beating up people who wanted to marry her. It was practically a law. The fact that a prince was involved did not seem to bother Briar unduly. If he wanted Sandry that badly, he was bloody well going to have to prove it.

That settled, Briar headed back to the Dancing Dove, and a stiff drink.

Within the privacy of a very big public courtyard, three young men were sitting glumly on a long, gnarled bench. Even Raoul, who was normally irrepressibly loquacious, was trapped in a melancholy silence, broken only by the occasional sight.

Gary, Jon and Raoul, being rather better organised then the girls, were already well past the denial stage and were back to good, old fashioned terror. Jon, rather surprisingly, was in the worst state, since the object of his affection was, after all, supposed to be returning to her own mysterious country in the not-too-distant future; Gary, who was after all already betrothed to his love, was merely absolutely petrified of ever talking to her, seeing her, or having to carry on a coherent conversation with her ever again; and Raoul was so quiet that nobody had any idea what was going on in his head.

Eventually, Jon said, "Do you think I should tell her?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Definitely."

"Oh." Silence, then, "Why don't you?"

"What, tell Sandry we love her?"

"NO! Tell Alanna and Cyth!"

"That we love them?" This from a bleary Raoul.

"Yes!"

"No."

"Oh, come on… How will you ever know if they feel the same?"

"Well," Said Gary thoughtfully, "I personally have roughly the rest of my life to work iit out with Alanna, and even I can tell that Cyth's in love with Raoul… So I think you're the one with the dilemma, here, Jon."

"Right. Good point." Miserably, the Crown Prince of Tortall covered his face with his hands.

"Do you really think Cyth's in love with me?" Asked Raoul anxiously. "I mean, she's never said…"

"Neither have you, you great pillock!"

"Alright, how's this." Suggested Gary thoughtfully. "There's a ball right after Aly's birthday, isn't there?"

"Oh, Mithros," Groaned Raoul, "Not another one."

Jon elbowed him. "You know you like them really." He said, grinning at his friends annoyance.

"Shut up." Said Gary firmly. "So, at this ball, we ask our Ladies to dance, and we tell them how we feel, alright?"

Raoul glared, massaging the spot where Jon had hit him. "It's alright for you." He pointed out tersely, "You're already betrothed, Aly isn't allowed to run away from you."

"As if that would stop her. Anyway, I'm serious. We have to tell them sometime!"

Jon met Raoul's doubtful eyes with a pair of his own. "I suppose…" The prince began uncertainly.

Raoul nodded. "If you're sure they feel the same…"

"They do!" Insisted Gary, more confidently then he felt. "My sources are very reliable."

"Oh yes?"

"Well, actually, Tris waylaid me and threatened to bury me alive in an earthquake and make it look like an accident if I didn't sort it out, because all these lovesick girls were getting on her nerves."

There was a pause while the other two digested this information. Then Jon said quickly, "Well, that sounds pretty reliable to me."

"Definitely." Agreed Raoul, picturing a sparking Tris in his mind and deciding very quickly not to argue. Gary smiled. In his mind he could already see Alanna, dressed to perfection, smiling up at him. He sighed, something he had always sworn he would never be such a sissy as to do when in love.

"Right," he said, straightening up and trying to sound brisk, "What're you all getting Aly for her birthday?"