Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 570: War Within

Ziva’s hands tightened around Landor’s arm, as if anchoring him. Her eyes glistened with tears, but there was a softness too—a quiet contentment when she glanced at her husband.

Landor took a cautious step forward, though he kept a respectful distance. "Netser... I married her not out of convenience, not out of obligation or guilt but because I love her. And because..." His voice dipped, lower, steadier. "...because I could not bear the thought of someone plotting to harm her again. I wanted o give her safety. A home. Someone who would stand by her no matter what dangers come."

Netser’s fists remained clenched. He could still feel the heat of that fire licking at his memories, still hear Ziva’s screams, still see the collapsing beams and the towering wall of flames that had stolen half of his world. He had carried that moment like a curse, convinced that his family had perished from the sword and the fire.

Now, everything he believed was unraveling.

His voice, when it finally emerged, was hoarse. "All these years... I thought you also betrayed and abandoned me." He lifted his gaze to Landor’s, eyes burning. "I thought you did nothing and just let my family perish."

"No. Never." His voice splintered, raw and unsteady. "Netser... when I realized you were gone—when I saw the tracks, the signs you’d been dragged away—I searched for you for an entire month. I didn’t abandon you." His throat closed, and the next words tore out of him. "I lost you."

Ziva pressed her forehead to her brother’s shoulder, her sobs muffled against him—relief and grief entwined now that the truth had finally been spoken aloud.

"But maybe it was better that way. It saved your life. If you stayed in Westalis, your life would always hang in the balance."

Netser’s breath quivered. The anger clinging to him didn’t vanish—it still pulsed, sharp and stubborn—but something in its shape changed. It wasn’t a blade pressed to Landor’s throat anymore. It was a wound, ugly and deep, but beginning—just beginning—to scab.

"Ziva and Netsa... I kept them safe only because, in Uncle’s eyes, they were harmless women. Not a threat. Not worth his suspicion."

"You should have told me," Netser finally whispered, voice cracking. "You should have told me everything."

"You disappeared," Landor answered quietly. "And even if you hadn’t... telling you would have risked everything. I would rather let you hate me in the dark than watch you die in the light."

Netser’s legs weakened again. He staggered back, breaths scraping through him—rake-harsh and uneven. Part of him wanted to drop to his knees and sob. Another part wanted to scream, to break something, to demand why fate had carved his family apart so mercilessly.

But Ziva’s arms were around him, warm and trembling and real.

And Landor stood before him not as the traitor Netser had imagined for years, but as a man who had bled for the same home, the same people, the same shattered family.

Suddenly the years between them felt unbearably heavy.

"Brother..." Ziva whispered, lifting her tear-streaked face to him. "We survived. We found each other again. Please... don’t let anger tear us apart now."

Netser closed his eyes, fighting to breathe past the storm still raging inside him. Forgiving Landor... Yes, he could. But forgiving the uncle who had ruined their parents’ lives? Never. He caused the demise of his parents. He owed him two lives along with the many servants in the Rimim household. He should pay with his life.

He wasn’t ready to forgive. But the truth was undeniable.

His sisters were alive. His best friend had not betrayed him. And his world, once burned to ashes, had begun to stitch itself back together.

"Brother... where have you been all this time? Why are you with the envoys from Azurverda?" Ziva asked softly.

Netser stilled. When he answered, his voice was stripped of all gentleness.

"Westalis abandoned me. Azurverda welcomed me with open arms." He looked around the garden, then back at his sister, his features finally easing.

"I fell in love with the place—and with its people," he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Brother, please stay. Things are better now. Uncle... he regrets what he did, and—"

"What are you saying, Ziva?" Netser’s voice snapped like a whip. "Have you forgiven that beast who murdered our parents and many innocent lives of our manor? Is it because you’re married into the Musni family that you speak differently now? Did you have a change of heart?"

Ziva recoiled, shock widening her eyes at the fury in her brother’s voice.

"Brother, that’s not what I meant," she whispered, wounded.

Beside her, Landor clenched his fists. He understood Netser’s pain—felt it like a bruise in his own ribs—but the man they spoke of was still his father’s brother—the uncle who loved him dearly. Didn’t he love Netser as well? He taught them martial arts and swordmanship.

Landor heaved heavily. He was trapped between two loyalties, neither of which he could abandon without tearing something vital inside himself.

"Netser, she’s only trying to—" Landor interjected.

"Trying to what?" Netser snapped, whirling toward her with a fury that seemed to heat the air. "Trying to convince me that the monster who massacred our family deserves absolution? Trying to drag me back to Westalis as if the scars on my back and the graves of our parents were nothing but a bad dream?"

Ziva recoiled as though struck, tears swelling again. "That’s not fair. I would never—"

"You are defending him, Ziva," Netser spat. "That beast. That merciless devil. You speak with his voice, not yours."

"I only wanted peace," she cried, her voice trembling, desperate.

"Peace built on lies," Netser shot back, voice cracking like thunder.

Landor stepped between them before Ziva could respond, his expression torn between restraint and anger. "Enough. Both of you. You haven’t seen each other for a long time. Why not —"

"No!" Netser’s voice went low and dangerous. "You don’t get to silence this."

"Then what do you want from me, Netser?" Landor demanded, temper finally slipping. "You are deeply hurt. Your pain is justified—Heavens know, it is. But must everyone drown in it?"

"Drown in it? Do you even know what you are saying? You would never understand my pain, because they were not your parents," Netser hissed.

Ziva’s face crumpled. "Brother... don’t speak like this. Uncle has changed. He regrets—"

"Regrets?" Netser barked a bitter laugh. "A man like him would never feel remorse."

"Brother..."

"Do you even hear yourself, Ziva?" Netser’s voice trembled with disbelief. "You sound like someone who’s been fed a script."

Her breath hitched—a small, wounded sound.

Landor’s eyes hardened. "That’s enough."

Netser’s gaze snapped to him. "Or what? You’ll defend him too? Your uncle? Your blood?"

"I am not defending him." Landor reasoned.

"Aren’t you?" Netser whispered, the words poisonous. "Because when it comes down to choosing, you hesitate to choose to side with me."

Landor’s jaw clenched so tightly his teeth creaked. "That’s not true." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"Isn’t it?" Netser pressed. "Tell me—if your Uncle stood in this room right now and order you to arrest me, what would you do?"

Ziva gasped softly. "Brother, stop—"

But Netser didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Years of grief had found a crack, and now it poured out like a flood.

"I would argue with Uncle, and I would plead with him and choose you and Ziva," Landor said, voice breaking under the strain. "But the world wouldn’t let me. And you know that."

Netser’s smile faded, replaced by something far colder."Then we are not the same anymore."

Ziva staggered as if struck. "Brother, please... don’t say that." She did not know what went wrong. Things were going well earlier.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor—guards, approaching for the banquet. Laughter and music drifted faintly through the hall, painfully at odds with the tension coiling in the air.

Netser turned his face away.

"Landor, I came here as an envoy of Azurverda," he said quietly. "Not as your friend," he said, then cast a solemn look at Ziva. "Nor your brother. Remember that."

Ziva’s knees buckled, and she clung to Netser’s sleeve. "No... don’t leave it like this. Brother, please—look at me."

But Netser kept his eyes fixed on the banquet hall ahead, expression as still as stone.

"If your uncle truly regrets," he murmured, "then let him face me."

Landor’s breath caught. "Netser, that could trigger your execution."

Netser finally looked back at him—his gaze a cold, fragile flame."I am not scared," he said. "I am no longer the same person I was a few years ago."

The pathways trembled with silence. Even the guards slowed, sensing the volatile air.

Ziva whispered his name one last time. "Brother Netser..."

But he had already turned away—toward the banquet, where he would meet his best friend’s uncle, toward a collision years in the making.

And Landor and Ziva followed, hearts pounding, knowing this night could heal them...

...or shatter everything beyond repair.