The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, the sun shining out of it to touch the land in a warm benediction. A small cluster of children played on the outskirts of the village, chasing after a ball. One of the children, a small girl with long honey-colored hair, fell behind when a little white flower caught her eye. Seeming to sense that she was no longer with the group, a young boy with similarly colored hair turned around to go back to her.

"Cyrtenes!" the boy called as he loped up to her. "What are you doing?"

"Is this flower not lovely?" she breathed, holding out the specimen for her brother to see.

"Yes, it is. Now come play with us."

"I do not want to," Cyrtenes said adamantly, sitting down on the soft grass and folding her arms.

"Come along!" the boy shouted, stamping his foot. Hearing the commotion, one of the older girls came running up to them.

"What are you shouting about, Gyrretan?" she asked in exasperation.

"Ấrian," the boy complained, "tell Cyrtenes to come play with us!"

"If she does not wish to play with you, then she does not have to." Ấrian's voice was patient, as if she were talking to a toddler, rather than her ten year old brother.

"I will tell father," Gyrretan warned Cyrtenes.

"I will tell father that you are bossing me!" Cyrtenes countered, sticking her tongue.

"Do not do that," Ấrian reprimanded Cyrtenes gently. "It is not ladylike."

"You must to do as I say." Gyrretan stamped his foot impatiently.

"Why?" Cyrtenes taunted.

"I am older than you." His voice was certain and triumphant.

"You are older than me by three minutes. Mother says that you are not old enough to be bossy." The little girl stuck her tongue out at her twin again. Gyrretan's face was turning crimson as the blood rushed to his cheek in anger. Without warning, his hand lashed out and struck his sister's cheek, leaving a red mark on her pale skin. Cyrtenes stared at him in shock for a moment, as did Ấrian. Then she burst into tears and ran back to the village, her honey hair flying behind her. Ấrian grabbed Gyrretan by the arm roughly and dragged him after their sister, ignoring his protests.

When they reached the compound, their sister was already in the Main Hall, her face buried in their father's shoulder.

"What happened?" their father, Beorn, asked his eldest daughter quietly.

"Gyrretan," she shot a murderous glance at the boy, "was trying to get Cyrtenes to play. When she did not, he slapped her."

"Is that what happened son?" Beorn's voice was not angry, merely low and rather dangerous.

"Yes father." Gyrretan shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor ashamedly.

"You will clean out Indryhten's stall for two weeks, and you will go to bed without supper tonight." Beorn's voice carried a note of finality, and Gyrretan nodded without argument. "Now, Ấrian," he smiled at his eldest daughter, "please tell your mother that Beran has returned home." Ấrian smiled widely at her brother's name. Beran, named after their uncle, was her favourite out of all her brothers, and she had missed him immensely when he had left on patrol with Elfwine, the king's son. "Take your sister with you." Beorn set Cyrtenes down gently after kissing her on the cheek that her twin had slapped. Cyrtenes smiled angelically and skipped over to take her sister's hand, the offense already forgotten.

"Come, Lufian, and we will tell mother that Beran is home." Cyrtenes grinned and released Ấrian's hand to run down the hall that led to the apartments that the family shared. Opening the door softly, Ấrian stepped in, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room.

"Ấrian, Cyrtenes, is that you?" The voice came from beside the fireplace.

"Yes mother."

"Come closer, my loves. Your presence soothes me." Ấrian stepped closer, feeling the familiar pain in her gut that she always got when she was near her mother. The scars on her once-beautiful cheeks were prominent in the ruddy glow of the cheerfully crackling fire. The eyes that had once been beautiful amber were now a blind blue, and they stared unseeingly in the direction of her daughters' approaching footsteps.

"Mummy!" Cyrtenes cried, flinging herself onto her mother's lap and hugging her knees fiercely. "Beran's home, mummy." Stearcwyn's face crinkled into a smile that transformed her scarred face back into the beautiful one that Ấrian remembered from her childhood, before the plague took her youngest brother, her older sister, and her mother's eyesight and beauty.

"Are they all home now? All five of them?"

"Yes, mother. Beran will be in to visit you shortly. Beorn, Léo, Anwynd, and Eohric are in the stables, so they will come later."

"And Coelric?" Ấrian smiled.

"Coelric is captaining the ship for the king's voyage to find the Lost Islands."

"I knew that he would be chosen!" Stearcwyn crowed, her face glowing with pride over her eldest son's accomplishment. To be the captain of one of the king's own ships, one that went to the fabled Lost Islands! And at only thirty!

Ấrian was still in the room when, ten minutes later, all five of her older brothers, and Gyrretan, entered the chamber.

"Come here my boys." Stearcwyn held out her arms to gather her grown sons to her. All five of them gathered around their mother protectively, drawing their three younger siblings into the circle of warmth as well.

"How are you mother?" Andwynd asked cheerfully, trying to keep his happy façade from cracking. He knew that his siblings felt the same way; seeing their beautiful mother like this was heartbreaking.

"I am wonderful, now that I have all my babies with me. All but three." Her face clouded slightly as she thought of her three missing children, one traveling, and two dead. She knew that the ache of missing them would never subside, but as long as she had her family, she would be content.

A/N: Thank you so much for sticking with my story, even when the first edition kind of sucked. Thank you!

Ấrian: (I actually don't remember P)

Cyrtenes: Beauty

Gyrretan: With lions

Lufian: Cherished

Léo: Lion

Anwynd: One winding

Eohric: Horse ruler

Coelric: Ship ruler