A/N: Hiiiii again, I'm sorry it wasn't posted sooner I was on holiday for two weeks but yeah, more excuses :)

I just wanted to thank BlueberryOmelette because your review was really sweet and it generally made me smile, so thank you :D x

Chapter 48:

3rd Person:

After the General walked away, every single person on that field seemed to shift their eyes over to the young girl sprawled on one of the many mats that lay on the dying, browning grass.

It was time, it had been a while. Many of them had suffered. Few had died. The mental and physical torment they were forced to partake in was finally coming to an end.

It was all going to be over. Soon.

The silence that blanketed the many miles was broken after only a few seconds that felt like many hours, by a single gunshot.

One of the two lieutenant generals (second most senior command which where currently being held by the tow people who were most loyal to the general) fell to the ground; red blossoming out of his chest.

Shouts and screams rang across the field, echoing to the many neighbouring villages, as the hour many had been waiting for was upon them. The hour of liberation.

More men pooled onto the field form the outlying turrets and bunkers to witness the battle that was about to arise. The field, now crowded with people, seemed to split in two as a man, big in build, stood upon a makeshift barricade.

"Those who wish for freedom from this godforsaken place will be freed from the shackles one man has placed upon them!" The man bellowed, his voice reaching every soldier on the ground.

"Meredydd Jones has tortured and murdered our brothers and sisters. Those that were willing to serve him even fell before his gaze, yet he did not batter an eyelid in remorse, or sorrow, or guilt but he stood to watch with a smirk as even his daughter fell to the ground! If he could watch his daughter, his flesh and blood, die and do nothing but laugh at her corpse, what hope is there for us? For those he doesn't even know the names of?"

Every single had looked up at the brave man who was defying the man who kept them there, under lock and key, for many a year. They hung of his every word and breathe as they knew when he finished something bigger than speeches would erupt.

"Now is the time to take back our lives, our dignity and our freedom. We will no longer live under this dictator who has us breaking laws and our own morals. It is a time to stand. Stand against the captor who took your freedom and will not hesitate in taking your life as well. Stand with me against Meredy-" The brave man was unable to finish his sentence as he fell to the ground, blood polling out of the hole in his forehead.

After that the people ran; those who opposed the tyrant and had been forced or sometimes kidnapped from their families and loved ones, shifted some of the barricades they had been using for practice drills over to where the nameless man had fallen, while those who were loyal to the oldest Jones hid behind massive brick barriers where the shooter currently resided.

Arms and ammo were being horded in crates over to each section. Those who got to the ammunition hut first fought with those who entered later to drag the crates over to their respective 'safe zones' behind the barricades and barriers that protected each side from the other.

Those on the right were those who opposed Meredydd Jones. They were those who had been broken by his rule. Those forced to take innocent lives unwillingly or those who had watched as their friends and sibling in arms fell to the earth beneath them and watched as everyone continued not to care. These men and women where mostly privates and officers but there were some lieutenants and even a couple of captains and majors.

Whereas those on the left where of a higher status in the home army Jones created for himself. These were loyal men and women that even though there were fewer of them, than those on the opposite side, they had more experience in combat than any of the other side had put together.

o.0.o

Rhys' POV:

All Rhys could do was stand there as chaos erupted. A constant buzz of bullets, clashes of bodies against the worn grass, skin against skin as they hit and stabbed and shot everything that moved. There was no way of knowing who was on whose side unless you were behind a barricade.

It was a bloodbath. Not that Rhys noticed.

Dark eyes were trained on the body that lay limp on the mat before him. He couldn't move at the sight. The sight if his sister; blood still trickling from her pale lips, staining her now porcelain white skin.

His knees began to buckle and he suddenly found his legs running to Cris' side. When he got there (which felt like years to him but was in act mere seconds) his knees gave out and he fell to the ground; gently picking up her head before cradling it between his knees.

He called her name, his voice cracking slightly. "Cris" He said her name over and over like a prayer.

"Chwaer, you're strong. The strongest here. That's why he wanted you. You're strong in ways we could never be," The words could barely be heard as he tried to stop the sobs trying to force their way between his lips.

His hand shook as his finger skimmed across her lax arm down to his wrist, where he dreaded he wouldn't find anything. His finger clasped her wrist and he pressed two fingers lightly down on the network of veins that boldly painted the inside of her wrist.

Holding his breath in anticipation, he prayed to any god that would listen, for even the faintest throbs to burst underneath in fingertips.

It was answered as he felt a weak pulse for a couple of beats. Tears of joy streaked his face as he huffed a huge breathe of relief, his face pointing to the sky as he mouthed a quick thank you. He couldn't help the smile that broke on his face as he found strength in his legs that could finally lift himself from the mat.

He gently picked up the broken girl before turning and starting a slow run, as to not disturb or discomfort the girl lying in his arms, towards the base's only infirmary.

It wasn't long before he discovered the obviously over-whelmed infirmary was way too full to even glance at the near-dead body he held. There were already queues to injured and dying men and women waiting to pile into the too small room that had no chance of seeing an event like this occur.

All he could do was sigh in annoyance and change his course into potentially dangerous territory. Rhys entered the house that raised him and he couldn't help but look at the walls as if they had morphed from something that had nurtured him, loved him, brought a boy up into a man to something cold, sterile and foreboding. To something that reminded him of his monster of a father.

He stepped cautiously and without noise and he crept towards the servant quarters. He knew he couldn't go to the family doctor (who conveniently, or inconveniently in this case, lived on the grounds and was very close by) just in case Meredydd was there, getting his very small and insignificant injuries cared to.

Just the thought of Meredydd being doted on for his meagre wounds caused anger to bubble up inside of the boy. The man nearly beat his daughter to death and he was the one getting cared for. The tough, whole man to the frail, broken girl.

In Rhys' eyes there was no contest. Unfortunately, life just didn't see it that way.

That's why he was creeping in the shadows of the house trying to stay as far away from his father who would surely punish both the boy and the girl if they were caught. Rhys couldn't even bring himself to think about the type of punishment Cris would get if he was caught holding her; she would surely die and it'd be because of himself, that he didn't keep her safe when it really mattered.

Rhys shook his head, trying to dislodge the painful thoughts from his head, and kept edging slowly closer to one women's room.

Once he got to the aging oak door, he thought of knocking but when he realised his arms were more than slightly occupied, he resorted to lightly banging his head against the door. Hard enough so she would hear but not so loud that it would attract the much unwanted attention.

Soft footsteps could be heard walking up to the door, and a few chains rattled; the undoing of the multiple locks that normally barred the door. Only one person ever knocked to gain entrance to her room, so she was pretty sure it was safe enough to blindly allow the person in. What she wasn't expecting was the second Jones crumpled in the elder's arms.

She couldn't help but sigh mournfully at the girl; she had been there ever since the girl was born and when she was taken away the older woman could only hope that the family she was given to was better than the one she was taken from (not that that would've been hard since the Jones' had always been fairly dysfunctional, mainly due to Meredydd and his psychotic episodes)

Rhys looked up at the woman, hope and dread glimmering in his dark whirlpools of eyes.

"Cerys, I need your help," Rhys pleaded, his eyes becoming shiny and glossy in the dim light of the hallway.

"Oh honey, I don't think it's you who needs the help," Cerys replied but opened the door nevertheless, standing out of the way so the boy could slide inside without hitting Cris on anything. Rhys smiled slightly as he did so; Cerys was a difficult woman but she was always kind and loving towards the Jones' children, not so much to anyone else though. She had known Rhys since he was a baby and tried to love the boy as much as his mother did, especially when she passed away and he needed to feel loved more than ever, and since Meredydd would never have taken that position; Cerys had looked after the boy from then on and had grown to love the boy as if he were her own son.

She had only known Cris for the few months before she was taken, but Cerys had loved the little baby girl all the same. The scene before her only reminded the older woman of when the little girl was born; Rhys had been so happy to have a sister and she remembered Rhys gently cradling the small baby, smiling brightly down at the sleeping bundle of blankets.

Cerys shook her head, still smiling slightly at the image but then grimacing comparing it to the similar yet completely different image in front of her. She sighed once again before swinging the door shut.

The woman motioned Rhys to set her on the, thankfully, clear table before running a handing through her long greying locks.

"Come on, we've got work to do" Cerys motioned for the boy to fetch the medical kit while she strode over to the table looking down at the broken beauty.

She sighed, "What are we going to do with you?"

Translations:

Chwaer - sister