Next week. HA. Yeah, time management is not my strong point. So here it is, a month later. (Ouch. Sorry guys. Hopefully Now Or Never softened the wait a little?)

Oh, this fic...

It's actually the first fanfic I've completed. (Not counting oneshots.) That feels a little... late for me, but well, it's a start, hahaha. I really latched onto the lovely anarchist because of this story. Seriously, before this fic all I could say was "I think Lilit likes girls...?" Now, I could give you a 3 page essay with page number sources and everything. OKAY MAYBE THAT IS SLIGHTLY EXAGGERATED. But I do think it's wonderful that she's been confirmed as bi/lesbian. And I hope this will shut up the people who insist she's totally straight. :P

She's a lovely character, strong and determined and confident, and so true to herself. And I really can't wait to see her again in Goliath.

Speaking of that- yes, there is going to be a sequel to this. Because if she's coming back, no waaaay I'm missing that.

So here we go- the final chapter. I'd like to send out HUGS AND FLYING WHALES to all of my reviewers, silent readers, people who rec'd me on Scott's blog, read this thing and totally hated it, ERRYBODY, because you are, I assume, part of this wonderful fandom, and thus, awesome by default.

Currents of air from the sea pushed Lilit along in her little flying contraption, along a solitary path that required too much concentration to allow free thought. It was a good thing, too, because she felt the euphoria from the kiss starting to fade.

The kite was a pain to control, needing a clear head and a body in top shape to twist and angle itself. Neither of which she had at the moment. There was a thick fog in her head and an undeniable ache to her muscles, and she was looking for her uncle's ship with increasingly desperate eyes. It was a small thing, short sails and worn over the years. She caught a weak air current, tumbling clumsily in the air and she bit her lip hard. That would be wonderful, wouldn't it? Crashing into the ocean and no one the wiser.

Nene, at least, would think she died a hero's death, instead of cowardly going home with only a torn pilot suit and the kite at her back. She'd think that her granddaughter was someone worth respecting. The foul thoughts brewed in her head endlessly, something to keep her from drifting off and skimming through the waves.

Some time later she spotted the little boat, bobbing uneasily across the water. If she squinted, she could catch the balding head of Aram, searching the sky in the entirely wrong direction.

Lilit sighed in relief, adjusting her kite for landing, and swerving as close to the boat as she could. There were already clean holes blown through the wings- this was not going to be clean. Or painless.

Her uncle waved at her, taking large steps backwards to make room for her landing. His bespectacled eyes had already figured her what her landing method was.

She moved her arms out, wishing, not for the first time, that she had figured out a parachute mechanic to the body kite. The wings struggled in the gale, rejecting the sudden movement, before giving in and fanning out behind her head. She hit the deck at a slant, fresh pain rocketing up from her boot soles. Running off the momentum, she found herself in front of Aram, who, as usual, wasn't smiling.

At his solemn expression, relief coursed through her. He knew, he had to have seen the Tesla tower, and already understood what happened to his brother. She wouldn't have to explain anything- just sit, quiet and dull, acting like a proper girl for once.

And it all shattered to bits with his first words. "Where's your father? You're late." He flipped open a pocket watch, to double check. She swallowed hard, and he continued, eyebrows arched. "I thought he'd be here by now."

…Irrational. That's what she was now, expecting everyone to have known what happened with some sort of psychic link.

She opened her mouth, slowly, as if her mouth was clogged with sweets. "My father is dead," Lilit said in Armenian, unable to soften the words.

Aram rocked a bit on the heels of his feet, an uncommonly emotional reaction. Her uncle took surprises with a dry look, and smiled once a decade.

But he loved his brother, she knew that much.

"Serves him right," he said, voice far too husky for the words to be honest. "All of those missions and plans."

He spun around and moved to the bow of the ship, hand at his forehead.

Lilit watched him go. It was unbelievable, for a man to completely ignore his grieving niece like this. Not even a word of comfort.

Then again, her family wasn't very fond of societal standards.

She had hoped Nene would be asleep. It was excuse for Lilit to hold off any reveals for the morning. Her grandmother was elderly, it wasn't too much of a stretch, after all.

But Lilit had barely stepped three feet into the upper quarters of the house before a loud voice creaked from the old woman's room.

"I know you're alone, Lilit. Your father makes much more noise when he enters the house."

Lilit walked into the bedroom, back perfectly straight, face a picture of calm. Nene looked her over with a cool expression.

"Come here, my girl."

"He's dead," The words echoed through the dimly lit rooms, cold and simple. She felt a hot flame roar up from nowhere, and she stood as if ready for a fight, eyes ablaze, feet apart. Nene's comment had been too innocent- like Zaven would be returning home in just a few moments, arms full of books and expression apologetic.

"I know." Nene blinked at her, and she was just too calm- the complete opposite of Lilit, who had been flying through so many emotions tonight that she felt sick to her stomach.

"I helped kill him."

"If you think that means I don't want to talk to you, Lilit, then you are not as clever as I thought you were."

Lilit didn't move, a perfect statue in the moonlight. She'd accept stupid. Stupid was better than being held in her grandmother's arms as if she had no blame, did nothing wrong.

Nene sighed. "At least let me see your hands, my dear girl."

And suddenly, Lilit snapped. "So you can see the blood of your son? My father? Or perhaps you just want to pretend that everything's alright, that I'm not a coward and a murderer. Everything's alright now, because you can do your little hands check!"

"You can call yourself a murderer, Lilit, whenever you'd like. But you," she stared her dead in the eye, expression just as fierce, "are no coward."

"I ran," Lilit said, desperate to keep up her self loathing, wanting more than anything for her grandmother to finally turn away in disgust.

"You survived."

Survival. That was all she was good for, assuring that her sorry skin managed to get through fight after fight, that a monster could live to see another day. She sat down on the bed, hard, raising up her knees. "He sacrificed himself. For the revolution, the Leviathan… and I destroyed anything in his path. Let him go through with it. I could have stopped him," she sobbed, wondering where the tears came from, "I really could have."

"And what good would that have done?"

"He'd be here. Home."

"And you'd both be dead, most likely."

She turned towards Nene, slowly.

"And your friends. Every face you've seen in this city, the dozens you've never seen on that boy's ship. They all lived today because you, Lilit, decided that your father's live wasn't worth more then the lives of thousands. And that young woman is now too busy feeling sorry for herself to actually listen."

Lilit bit her lip, turning to Nene in an attempt to give her grandmother her full attention.

"I lost a son tonight," she said simply. "A son, who was well aware of what he was doing, and warned me before hand."

Her granddaughter started, rising from the bed.

"He what?"

"Sit down, girl. Yes, he told me," she continued, as Lilit drifted down like a leaf battered by the wind, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Thought it might be his only chance to take down the tower. He didn't tell you, because he was sure you'd try to stop him somehow, that you were too young to understand. Apparently, he was wrong."

The world felt like it was shrinking and expanding over and over in the course of a minute. Lilit was too dumbfounded to comment.

"If you feel that you're at blame for his death, then I am as well."

She felt much younger than her almost 18 years, at that moment, young enough to allow herself to slump over and curl up next to her grandmother like she did when she was young, and let her mind convince itself that she was still a little girl. Back when she would sulk around the house after her mother and father went on a trip and she only had Nene to talk to.

But even as she lay there, long after Nene had fallen asleep as if there was nothing wrong with her almost fully grown granddaughter staying next to her like a child plagued with nightmares, miserable thoughts began to brew in the back of her mind.

Nene would only be able to live to be so old… and then what?

A still house, an empty bedroom, a quiet study. Lilit could see the gap her father left in the smallest things. A chair left pushed in at breakfast. A dinner spent in Nene's bedroom, just for two.

One evening, after she lost count of how many days had gone by since the battle, she searched out his key, and locked his bedroom in.

She missed him more then she ever missed her mother- a thought that made her horribly guilty, but she had been younger when her mother was killed. She had been a different person, then.

And the years without his wife had brought Zaven closer to his mother and daughter. Making these days hurt even worse.

Sometimes she just sat around the house in silence. She would be still and silent in the kitchen, the sitting room, the hallway outside his room. Trying to hear his laugh one more time, like it was a pressed flower, waiting to be rediscovered.

She still washed his favorite teacup, though she didn't dare use it.

She didn't think it was possible, for her heart to be so broken.

Lilit couldn't remember the last time she left the house with her hair loose. She was wearing her full veil today, the one that only showed her eyes, and she saw no point in putting the effort into plaiting her hair.

Today, she just wanted to be anonymous. She didn't want to be Lilit, Daughter of Zaven, forced to drown in hundreds of apologies and inquiries about the funeral. She hadn't wandered like this since Dylan and Alek had been here, several weeks ago. She found herself thinking about those two an awful lot these days. It had been nice, to spend time with people her own age.

The committee had changed now. Taking over the government took a lot of effort, and there were no need for the little revolutionary schemes Lilit was so good at. Without her father taking control, she was a gear that didn't fit- a young lady, with no parents, no future, and no reason to be there.

Nene told her she was being over dramatic, that the committee owed everything to her. She also said that she was the most important woman in all of Istanbul, at the moment. But Lilit didn't feel important. Didn't feel much like anything, really.

It was a chill day, the autumn wind becoming more and more apparent as the weeks passed. Her city was struggling to find its feet again, with no one really knowing how things would end up. And yet, the merchants were out, a constant factor in her life. She caught a jewelry stand in the corner of her eyes, and for a brief moment saw Alek, his cared for, privileged hands examining a bracelet.

… She was starting to miss Alek. She really had lost her mind. Lilit sighed, taking in the sights of the city.

She walked for hours, just staring with her wide brown eyes at a city that was metamorphosing quickly before her. She was unnoticeable, a hooded figure with a hidden, solemn expression. No one special enough to point out during this chaos. She was certainly not the girl who had a hand in everything.

The three of them were rather unnoticeable, weren't they? Well, not strictly true- Dylan certainly turned a lot of female heads when they wandered, and, unnoticed by the prince but certainly saw by his companion, Alek did have some admirers as well.

But you didn't look at them and see a hidden Clanker prince, a young women masquerading as a brilliant solider, and revolutionary who had taken a city, did you? They looked like… children.

A war fought with children. That's what this was turning out to be, wasn't it? Lilit leaned against a railing, cradling her cheek in her hand. The war was laid out in her mind's eye- a mental chessboard, the pieces too fuzzy to see.

Could the three of them really change that much?

She sighed loudly, putting both of her hands on her face now. She didn't know how this war would end- perhaps with the three of them laid across a battlefield. Or maybe- their action here, taking Istanbul, would shift the whole war of course. And she believed the two of them completely capable to keep up that shifting, to keep trying to save the world.

Her father would approve. Always said that children were underestimated. He had let her behind with complete trust, despite her age. But would it have been so hard for him to leave some sort of guidance for her?

It was up to her to figure out what to do. Take the city into her own hands and guide it to peace.

A sudden clarity washed over her, and she dropped her hands from her face.

Moping didn't suit her, Nene was right. The Committee Of Unity And Progress needed her, didn't they?

Who was to say that an eighteen-year-old girl couldn't help rule a government? Everything was new, wasn't it? And they better remember who got them control in the first place.

She couldn't be 'no one'. Related to three of the city's greatest revolutionaries- she was unstoppable.

Even though two of them were dead.

Even though Nene was next, she knew it.

Even though, deep down, she was scared…

It was time for Lilit, daughter of Zaven, to take charge. No matter the cost.