A/N: Yes, I'm BAAACK! Didya miss me?
And now, it's time for an excuse--I'm a very bad girl. I had four pages of this written, and then I got some bad grades. So Snookums (That's my 'puter's name) was taken from me. Here it is, nearly a month later, and I do't have Snookums back, but I have more time alone and thus more time that I can write in the kitchen, where Snookums is now located. And this is definitely the longest chappie I've ever written--the writing (excluding the A/N) is almost 6 pages long. It's also one of the most intense chapters--a lot happens in six pages. A hell of a lot happens.

I'd also like to thank you for your glorious reviews:

Autumn Faery: Sorry for the short chapters--but they're getting slowly longer. Your praise made me really happy. Thank you so much!

Abby:shakes hands: We have an accord then. I write, you review, and happiness all around:cheers:

Philippa: I'm glad I'm giving you ideas--thank you!

Wake-Robin: Well, that sums it up in a nutshell.

Thea: Of course there's more fluff in their future! Much more fluff:rubs hands to gather and does the evil scientist laugh:

FelSong: Thanks for the critique--it made sense. And typically I am very lazy, but it's different when it comes to my writing. I have to be hard-core with it otherwise it loses control...yeah, I'm not too good at that...

Sheyana:Well, it's somewhat long...but when Snookums got taken away we all kinda lost hope and my charries went comatose until opened my little MS Word doc 'less12' (decoding--Elestra's story ch.12) and then they came back to life. This is what came out.

Anywho, I hope you like chapter, despite the lack of fluffiness. And I'm sorry for the horribly long AN.

The Revolution Begins

Things were now slightly awkward between Alaerec and I; we were still together as often, and talked all the same, but we avoided certain topics—romance,romance gossip, parties, and a few others—and rarely met each other's eyes.

But we were still close, and Ermliana was doing her best to patch up whatever hole Alaerec and I had rent in our friendship.

But no one was patching up the hole that Marscopa's arrest and consequent imprisonment made. The King had nearly lost his mind—maybe he had loved her, or maybe he was just stunned.

Either way, he had turned into a cold-hearted bastard and just about everyone hated him.

My father said things had always been like this under Merindar reign, and that he was "damn tired of it all." I was glad he was beginning to get his old personality back.

And then I got ill, and I really didn't care how heartbroken my father was or what I felt for Alaerec or if Jhussav was sleeping with the chamber maid.

It was one of those illnesses; I spent the first two days over my chamber pot, sick, and I had a cough that felt like my throat was on fire. I was sick for a full month after that, with a cough, fever, and occasional delusions.

I distinctly remember several of them—but Jhussav and Ermliana have both denied it, so they must have been delusions or something. At one point, Ermliana, Alaerec, and Jhussav sat around my bed, Ermliana stroking my forehead, and Jhussav and Alaerec holding my hands. Jhussav was saying, "The clowns have taken my head again."

Ermliana nodded firmly. "Oh, those nasty clowns. How awful." She held up a hand, and smiled at the huge, gaudy ring adorning her middle finger. "Such a lovely ring, Alec," she said, smiling coyly at him. "What a fine convenience this is, that I can marry you."

I gasped, or tried to. Instead I dissolved in a fit of violent coughing. When I recovered, Alaerec said, "But you know I don't love you, right?"

Ermliana smiled. "Of course you don't." Her eyes flicked to me and then up. "I know."

Jhussav laughed, and it was all very odd.

Another one I had was much the same, only this time I was getting married, and Ermliana had books and books of wedding plans. When I asked her why, she said, "But Lessie, we've been planning it for ages!"

I was too sick to remember that neither of us were even of age yet, but it was still strange.

And then I had funny delusions, where Alaerec danced on the ceiling or Jhussav was a crab and spoke in strange accent.

And then I was merely feverish and coughing, finally, and my friends spoke to me normally. I received visits from Timerius, Yolandis, and even Arthal and Galdran, although that one was far from pleasant.

Of all of my friends, I think Alaerec sat with me the most, though. He brought me books, plenty of them, my lap harp, and even embroidery, which I did when my vision was too blurred to read. And he talked politics with me.

I liked that; it kept me in touch and he was talking to me as an equal, which was the first time he'd ever done that.

Even in the past, Alaerec had always treated Ermliana and me with the slightest amount of arrogance typical of those older than one. It was never terribly noticeable or annoying; but it was there.

It was understandable, though; I mean, Alaerec was five years older than us and had more life knowledge, but there were times when I'd wanted him to speak with me as he would friends that were his age, and suddenly, here he was.

He informed me of what was happening in Petitioner's Court, all the servant's gossip, and then the gossip among the courtiers. The newest rumor was that Marscopa and Debegri had been romantically attached, which made me shudder. Alaerec, devoid of his Court mask (for once), had said it through laughter—we, and the servants, knew that she had actually been faithful—after all, she had wedded him with fidelity rings—which bound a person to their spouse.

But he delivered more sober information a day after that. "Lourden's mad," he stated as he walked in my room, still in Court dress.

"Insane-mad or angry-mad?" I asked.

"Both," he responded, "But more the former, I think."

"What's wrong?"

Ermliana entered suddenly. "I was in the kitchens and Lourden's killed the head cook 'cause she was a spy!"

"What?" Alaerec asked, standing.

Ermliana slowed, sitting down. "Well, not a spy, but she was a contact for the Anamoras family; they don't come to Court much. Lourden found out, I guess, and he decided that their lack of Court visits and a contact in the kitchens mean that they were planning on killing him—poison or something, I suppose. So he marched down and she died a criminal's death at first-green bell today." She rolled her eyes angrily. "The Anamorases don't come to Court 'cause they've got five children under the age of six and another on the way, and imagine what that would be like." Then, suddenly, she burst into tears. "I liked the cook," she wailed. "She was so nice, giving me food whenever I asked, and I talked to her about…things!"

Alaerec and I exchanged glances. Something else had Ermliana worked up. "What else is there?" Alaerec said gently.

Ermliana shook her head. "Heard some of the people in Court today talking—it's nothing."

Alaerec went white. "No, it's not."

"What?" I asked, horrified.

Alaerec sat down. "Well, Court started off as normal, I suppose, with Lourden condemning a couple criminals and introducing Galdran to them—he's required to come now, so he can 'learn.' Well, then he moved on to the petitions, and there was one from the woodworker's guild and a little fief up north and a couple of others.

"But then Debegri stepped forward, and made a personal request."

"A what?" I asked, confused.

"There hasn't been one in years, so it's kind of been forgotten. They were designed when courtiers wanted to challenge others for their land or wanted a rise in station or wanted to change an arranged marriage or get a loan; little things like that. But they're never used anymore; no one's really wanted them.

"Anyway, Debegri stepped forward, and used the proper words and everything, and then when Lourden said, 'Please state your request,' Debegri said, 'I request that the Lady Arthal be killed so that I may become Marquis of Merindar.'"

I let out a gasp. "He wouldn't—"

Alaerec shook his head, becoming almost visibly angry. "The entire Court, I think, let out a gasp, and Arthal had to be physically restrained by her nurse, she was so angry.

"But Lourden didn't even flinch. He asked what the grounds for the request were, and Debegri said some load of shit about it being his birthright, since it was always the Debegris who held the position, and now a Merindar was going to do it, and he couldn't possibly stand for it, and Lourden nodded, and said 'Very well, I'll do it' and then they arrested Arthal right there." Alaerec was visibly shaking now, he was so angry. "I don't like the girl, but—Burn it! She doesn't deserve to die, and especially not by her father!"

"Is that all?" I asked. Alaerec shook his head. "It's not done yet.

"Your father protested—she's little, she is the princess, his grounds had no claims since the Debegris were just a branch of the Merindars anyway, and he even pulled the ancient she's just a girl and you can't kill girls string, but Lourden refused, and your father lost it, saying how he wasn't going to stand for it—not for any child, and he would protest for any child in the palace, even the annoying little brat of a girl, because they didn't deserve to be tortured so by a crazy king. So he was—he was arrested, too. And they'll both die a criminal's death in three days."

Suddenly, I was crying, and Jhussav was walking in crying, "Alec! Alec! Is it true—" and then Ermliana's arm was around my shoulder and Alaerec's slim fingers were stroking my hair and Jhussav was crying too, and then I woke up, but it wasn't a nightmare. It was still true. It was still real.

Ermliana stayed with me and Jhussav, for fear we would try to take matters into out own hands. "I would, too, but I don't have any influence, so I couldn't do anything, but if Lourden died, Alaerec would be regent, so he might be able to convince him."

I sat up then, angry. "I'm a Countess! Do I have influence?"

"Do you think Lourden will be swayed by the girl who got his wife arrested?"

I lay back down, contrite. "Oh."

Alaerec came back twice disheartened, unable to sway the King. "He won't change his mind—he won't let Arthal off, I don't know why."

"Arthal looks like Marscopa," I said softly. "She reminds him of her."

"But Galdran looks like Marscopa, too," Ermliana argued.

"Galdran will be King," I refuted. "And if Galdran isn't Debegri would be, and no one trusts Debegri, not even Lourden. And Lourden loves Galdran. Like a son. Anyway, Galdran looks less like Marscopa than Arthal does. He just has Marscopa's eyes."

Alaerec shook his head. "He won't let Arthal off because he's crazy. And he won't let your father off because he says he spoke treason. Damn him to Norsunder! When the king's crazy, all the rules are different. Everyone knows that."

Alaerec was visibly worked up as he spoke. Jhussav said sharply, "Alec, relax."

Ermliana set a hand very gently on his arm. "Calm, down Alaerec."

I merely gave him a reproving look from my bed.

Alaerec gave a frustrated growl and threw on his Court coat. "I'm going to go try to convince him again."

He left. Jhussav, Ermliana, and I exchanged glances. Alaerec had never been so passionate about anything, and we were all worried.

At that point, a healer bustled in, carrying tea and other healer things. She thrust the listerblossom tea into my hands and checked my pulse and temperature. "You're healing. That's good."

"When can I get out of bed?" I asked her hopefully, and took a sip of tea.

"Wait three days, at the most. You're temperature's almost back to normal, but it's still high, and you still have a bad cough, so let's wait a bit to make sure you don't relapse. I'm worried about this—it's taking a long time to heal."

Oh, damn.

Ermliana visibly started; we exchanged glances behind the healer's back.

I remembered my mother; her illness from a year ago had been similar to mine.

What if my illness was the result of magic?

I turned back to the healer, took another sip of tea, and asked, "Is it possible that my illness might be the result of magic?"

The healer looked at me, and frowned. "It's possible," she said, "although unlikely. Unless you've been involved in magic recently."

Ermliana jumped in the conversation. "She was at the center of the tangle with Queen Marscopa. She'd been bound."

The healer relaxed slightly. "Well—then the illness is probably just a residue of the binding setting in. If a person is bound their body has to adjust to being unbound. The Princess has been rather ill lately, as well.

"This is good—your illness is nothing serious, just annoying. You'll probably be totally healthy again in two or three weeks, and you'll definitely be out of bed of soon."

I thanked the healer as she gathered her things and left.

Ermliana and I looked at each other.

What else could possibly go wrong?

Alaerec burst into the door two candle-changes later, looking half-exuberant, half hopeless.

Ermliana had left to dine with her family, and Jhussav had gone down to get me (and him) dinner. I informed Alaerec of that fact the moment he walked in—it kept my mind off of other issues; namely, the fact that my father would die in two days.

(For, although I desperately wanted to know if he was off or not, I feared Alaerec's rejection more than anything in the world. My father and I were not close in the obvious sense of the word, but we had similar personalities—we were bookish, music- and fashion-loving, and had a secret flair for the dramatics. And I loved him—although we didn't appear close, we were, in our own special way. I didn't think I could stand his dying, especially not after Mama had died just a year ago. )

Alaerec nodded briefly at my explanation, and as he opened his mouth to speak, I said, "The healer came today—I'm just sick because of residue magic left over from being bound, and I'll be well soon."

"Oh, that's good," Alaerec told me wearily. "So, what do you think of this kind of weather?"

I was slightly confused at the sudden change of subject, but I said, "Well, I don't know what the temperature's been like lately, seeing as how I haven't been outside much, but I love watching the rain—"

And then I realized something—Alaerec was trying to avoid the subject just as much as I was.

And any hope I had vanished like the smile on a woman's face when her son, not seen by her in years, comes home to tell her that her husband is dead.

"So," I asked, "Did you convince him of anything?"

"Yes," Alaerec said, surprising me. "He finally came to his senses, and he's going to let Arthal live—it was like a brief bout of insanity. But he's still convinced your father spoke treason, and he's still going to execute him in two days. But I'm going to talk to him tomorrow." He met my eyes for the first time in the awkward conversation, and said, "I'm sorry, Lessie; oh, I'm so sorry."

I shook my head and sniffled. "'S'not your fault."

He shook his head. "No, maybe it's not—but it is, a little bit. There's a lot I could have done before Lourden lost it—I didn't know I had so much influence with him. And we've got to do something."

"We?" I asked.

Alaerec looked at me, dark eyes widening slightly. "Well, of course we! You don't think I'd expect to start a revolution by myself, do you?"

Saying that that statement was a shock was, well, an understatement. Had I been standing up, I would've fallen over, and I nearly fell out of bed as it was. I tried to say something, and burst into a fit of coughing instead.

When the coughs subsided, I looked at Alaerec, stunned. His eyes were narrowed in laughter at my clumsiness.

"You're not—" I sputtered, trying to stay as calm as he was, "You're not serious, are you?"

Any humor on his face died instantly. "I am," he told me. "And I need help. I'll be working from within—it's not, hopefully, going to be like the revolutions we read about in histories, with bloodshed and bodies. It might take years, but I'll drive the Renslaeus guards on him, or Galdran, if I have to. But there's going to be a change, Less. I'll make sure of that."

I sat there, totally blown away. If Alaerec was going to start a revolution, then I—well, I didn't know what I would do.

Oh, actually, I knew what I would do, but I wouldn't like it. I would sit on the sidelines, watching things wither get better or deteriorate, and watch Alaerec suffer from being stuck with all the researching he would have to do. I would watch him struggle to find allies, and send me pleading glances so well-hid by his Court mask that only I could see them, and I would feel guilty.

But this was a chance to make a difference. To do something. To care about something other than clothes and music. Maybe even to act out a role or two.

I looked up at Alaerec, who was watching me with that assessing glance of his. "Well?"

I smiled, and extended my hand. "Of course I'll help. What kind of friend wouldI be if I didn't?"

The boyish grin on his face at that moment was worth any regret I had in the future.

Post-A/N: I dunno when I'm gonna get the next chappie up--this and school's kinda drained me. I'll try two weeks, and then I'll cross my fingersand hope for the best.

Signing off,
nebulia