Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I was born from darkness, so I yearn for the light. I know this. And through no fault of my own I am a constant reminder of the horrors of such darkness. Such darkness that shreds any lingering innocence.

Mother says darkness is why we see light. Only from its comparison do we know how good we have it. There is no fixed ratio. Imbalance is dynamic and unyielding.

“Necessary? Is it necessary?” she would laugh wryly, “My little star, necessities are for survival. Existence and our circumstances simply are. Do not look for answers to irrelevant questions, it will only lead you astray.”

Her laughter rings through my mind as I make my way through the encampment. Passersby huddle together by campfire while the stink of mildew holds heavy in the humid air. A chill runs through my skin that has nothing to do with the heavy gust. The stench of death grows heavier as I near the medbay tent. Another life or few lost. I wish I were numb to it. But it only makes me angrier. I am the age that mother had me. A product of the civil war ravaging my people. She was born into it. I was born because of it. And though the man responsible has been executed, I feel the pity from brief glances towards my mother. She ignores them. She loves me, assures me I am hers and of her-not him. But I don’t look like either of them. Mother says I look like my great-great grandmother. The 16th in line princess, headmistress of the royal department of education. A woman long dead and just as forgotten.

I stop and set down the fresh blankets I made early in the week for the soldiers. With shaking fingers, I swap out the moth and rot riddled blankets with the fresh new ones. Patting down the blankets, I sigh heavily, closing my eyes as they begin to unfocus. I am disconnecting. Senses becoming separated from my consciousness I feel my muscles relax, my jaw falling slack. I slide down to the ground, back flat to the blanket bin, knees drawn to my chest. I run my fingers through the dirt as the world spins and fades away. I focus on mother’s voice. Low and steady. As if the world isn’t doomed beneath our feet. I feel as if I could float away into the void until I use her voice to tether myself. I lift my head and open my eyes. Through my tears, I look to the stars. Through the smokey sky I can count few stars. Today is my birthday. Thirteen years of uncertainty. Of violence. Of wondering if there will be any of the world left to live in.

Mother is tending to the wounded, sharing drinks and rations. Despite being empress, she firmly believes respect is earned. I try to focus on her laughter and the smell of sweet wine, trying to dispel my depressive rumination and guilt along with the stench of rotting flesh, sickness, freshly disturbed dirt, and heady mildewed tents. Sorrow juxtaposed with the loud joy stood before only a few meters apart never ceases to amaze me. How so much laughter can be elicited in such a time of horror. I asked mother once how could she do it. She says she has no choice. It is a necessity for survival.

Chapter Text

“Val, take a break. You have been wound tending all night little star.”

It’s been days, sleeping only a few hours in between training, schooling, and public service. I longed for the salty air and cool winds to lap at my face. So, of course I took up her offer. I trekked down the familiar beaten path. Winding through the makeshift homes-what was left of them. I welcomed the harsh sun beating down upon my aching cold body. It was now high noon and it was a welcomed change from the brutal freeze that lasted from night till morning. Mother says the chemical bombs will have lasting effects. Quick and brutal. We will need to terraform and evacuate to the other worlds in our Empire when the war is over. But right now, I’m looking forward to the salty world-brine.

The dirt beneath my feet crunching that familiar crinkle of sand and grit. I can feel my mood lift now.

“She won’t like this my lady, she might resent us.”

Estrell ignored her handmaiden. Instead, she elected to continue the arduous task of packing the rest of her only daughter’s personal affects for the ship.

“The computer has been confirmed to have finished its downloads, yes?”

Empress Estrell’s smooth and calculated question seemed to steady her handmaiden. Now at ease, she confirms with a more collected “Yes, my lady. The physical media discs and backups have been recovered and fully loaded onto the cargo bay as well. The same for the biological samples.”

“Everything is going smoothly then, hm? Much better than I anticipated. Are the others prepared?”

“They are awaiting your orders, my lady.”

Estrell paused to say a quick prayer, wishing for a painless and merciless death for those willing to die among the decoy ships. So many of her people have died already. If they hadn’t threatened to go through with the plan on their own she never would have agreed. Her network of spies have already spread information to the enemy that she was planning a mass evacuation in several parts. Secretly, other worlds had already been smuggling her people off the homeworld into the Far Reaches-where the terrorists had no influence and no station. She sighed heavily, her heart aching and thumping in her chest. If one Xanthuran were to live, they all would. At least in spirit and memory if not body.

“Good. Remember Ailee, one survival means all our victory. Should the rest of us here survive the slaughter, and the Far Reach remain safe, she can always find her way home with this.” In her hand she held a glinting metallic object. Golden with spiraled engravings in a tongue long dead. “The Beacon will guide her home, should it be safe to return. Until then she is to be promoted to acting regent and will serve as an ambassador for our people. Her duties will continue…and she will be on her own.” Estrell’s voice cracked at that last bit, willing her beating heart still. My little star. I am so sorry for what I must do. And I am even sorrier you will be alone in it.

She gently placed the beacon into its box and heaved the rest of her things towards the royal hangar. Hagmar, Val’s trainer helped Estrell load the items into the ship. Together they set up the princess’s quarters to look like her bedroom-to soften the blow. Unbeknownst to them, Princess Val was aware that something was up. It had been several hours of decompression and still no call to duty. Yet.

Chapter Text

I didn’t bother to protest. Mother was right. It was all I could do to not weep openly again like I did on the beach. So, I smiled through the pain and hugged who I could. They held me knowing it could be the last time we meet.

As my ship ascended I waited. I waited through the others being shot down. The decoys served their purpose as a distraction from the terrorists who made good on the partially true information they were fed. There were no more tears. Just emptiness. The only way to go was towards the horizon. And so I went. I made it. And so shall we all.