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Dot the Distracted: Reviews aren't the only reason for writing, they're the only reason for posting. There's a difference; I write for my own enjoyment, but I put the chapters up here for the enjoyment of others (and for some constructive criticism); and I don't know if they're enjoying it unless they review it.

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Elwing: Thanks! I'm glad you liked that chapter. Oh, and you'll discover you can only review once per chapter.

Myitt: If you want to see Illim again, I can write it so you see Illim again. I have a general direction for this fic, and the rest is written from suggestions and spontaneous ideas as I go along. So, we can meet Illim again. Thanks for your review, I love it when people review with suggestions like that.

About a year later, I went with Baras to the Academy. He was taking a final examination of a series of examinations which would elevate him to the rank of Prince. I wanted to attend, to make up for the numerous examinations which I had missed.

Some newly- freed Hork-Bajir had recently offered to work at the Academy helping to train and examine Andalites. This meant that Andalites taking training could fight Hork-Bajir as practice, and in examinations to show their fighting technique.

Perhaps I should explain that there are three ways to be elevated to Prince or War- Prince rank. The first, and one that happened most often in war time, was for an Andalite of War- Prince or Captain rank (who is not personally attached to the warrior) to promote the warrior for their hard work or skills. The second, and now, during peace time, the most popular, is for extra training to be taken and then an examination to be passed at the end of it. The third was the way Prince Aximili and his brother Elfangor had been promoted; for a heroic act, or several acts.

Baras was taking his final examination today. It tested several main areas: strength, speed and stamina; fighting skills; technology and weapons handling (including morphing); strategy and leadership qualities.

Everything except leadership qualities Baras had already been tested on at a lower level during warrior training; but Prince training was a lot harder. Some seventy percent of entrants fail. Needless to say, Baras was very nervous

(I'm going to fail, I just know it,) Baras said, terribly afraid. (What if I can't keep running for long enough in the stamina test? What if I make a mess of a morph? What if…)

(What if you do brilliantly? Look, Baras, even if you fail you can take as many examinations as you want until you succeed.)

( But everyone will call me a weakling if I fail,) Baras moaned. (Or stupid if I fail the theory.)

(When you're taking a test with a pass rate of only 30 percent? If you think you'll fail, you probably will. Think you'll pass if you do your best and you're very likely to pass with merit, Baras.)

Baras grumbled a little, but said I was probably right. We arrived at the Academy early, and Baras was introduced to his examiner. The first test Baras would have to take would be the strategy exam; a theory paper to be completed in an hour. It was multiple choice; candidates would be given a situation and a range of military strategies to solve the problem, and would have to pick the one they thought would most likely solve the problem in as little time, with as few resources and creating as few other problems as possible. Unfortunately, this was the test that Baras had been dreading the most. I gave him a sympathetic look before he went to a side room.

I watched Baras' physical tests anxiously, and waited nervously while he completed his theory papers. I was on edge for the entire day, I so desperately wanted my son to do well. I wanted to be there when he had a success in his life; I had missed far too many of them; from as little as when he learnt to write his name to as huge as when he graduated from the Academy. I had missed them all, and it made me sad.

We left the Academy at sunset. Beautiful streaks of colour lined the undersides of the Andalite sky. It was the time of day when everything is peaceful; the time between work and evening activities. It was pure bliss to see an Andalite sunset; or would have been had I not been thinking about whether Baras was likely to pass; he would not get his results for a week. We were both terribly anxious, although I reassured him that I was certain he had done brilliantly. Certainly, his tail- fighting had been superb.

Baras was stressed; he was running over every section of his examination highly self- critically. I attempted to change the subject.

(How old are you now son, twenty eight?) I asked. I had been away for so long that I could barely remember; I had almost forgotten my own name at one point.

(Twenty nine.)

I laughed a little. (Of course, I'm very forgetful; it must be my old age. You know, I had been married to your mother for two years at your age. Have you got your eye on a female yet, or are you still too obsessed with your career?) I asked light heartedly.

Baras ducked his head and cast all four eyes to the ground, the equivalent of blushing.

(Oh, so you have? Who is she, then, hmm?)

(It doesn't matter. You're supposed to arrange my marriage, anyway.)

(Well, that makes at least one thing which hasn't changed; unfortunately it's the one I hate the most,) I reflected. (Well, if you already know and like a female, it's probably better to marry her, so long as she's happy with it.)

(That's the problem; she's already courting someone.)

(Ah. Sorry, son.)

(Well, I wouldn't mind, but he's just interested in her for her body. She doesn't know; he told her he loves her, but he talks about her behind her back as if she's some kind of trophy he's won. It makes me sick.)

Baras paused, and I could see the anger in his face.

(And the worst thing is, both sets of parents have agreed to a love- match marriage between them.)

I was a little surprised; love- matches, while existent, had been incredibly rare twenty- four years ago.

(It would be fine if he would treat her kindly, but I know he won't. Problem is, no one's interested in the son of..)

Baras stopped, shocked at what he'd almost said.

(My son? The son of the Abomination? I'm sorry, Baras, that my reputation has affected you.)

(It's fine, please don't worry about it. I don't blame you; I blame everyone else's attitude.)

(Tell me her name, son,) I said, anxious to change the subject.

(Ferala- Meral- Maheen.)

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