POV: Lyra
In the transport, Orion's pathways suddenly flickered with unease. "Hey, Lyra?"
"Hm?" I was watching the station lights blur past the viewport, trying not to think about how domestic this felt—traveling together to the evening meal like an actual bonded pair.
"You mentioned the third and fourth were Station Commanders." His voice carried tension that made his pathways pulse amber. "Are they here? At this summit?"
"The third, yes. Commander Brandon from Red Night Station. The fourth, no." I kept my voice neutral, matter-of-fact. "He and his partner were killed in a Rogue Collective attack last cycle. Commander Zeke from Blood Eclipse absorbed half his personnel, the other half went to Commander Lovelace from Midnight Station."
One less rejection to face. The universe's small mercy.
Orion's pathways darkened further. "Wouldn't it get awkward with Commander Brandon?"
I actually laughed at that. "No. Like I said, our severance was consensual and amicable. It was awkward at first, but then we warmed up to each other as allies, then as friends. His partner took a little more time to offer me a smile, but we eventually bonded over mutual interests—mainly reforming the patriarchal command structures that still plague most stations."
She thought I was trying to steal him back at first. Took three joint missions before she realized I wanted nothing to do with romantic entanglements.
"I mean," I continued, watching his reflection in the viewport, "it would've been awkward if the fourth match had survived. He was very... focused on the fact that he rejected me because I wasn't good enough. Would've probably caused a scene at the summit, but I would've avoided him anyway."
"Did he cause a scene last cycle?" Orion's concern bled through our bond, his protective instincts flaring.
"He almost did, on the very first night too. But Juan threatened to challenge him for his station if he ever bothered me again. That shut him down pretty effectively."
Juan, always playing protective older brother. Even when I didn't need it.
Orion's pathways went completely dark, guilt radiating through our bond so strongly I could taste it—metallic and bitter. "I can't believe that happened and I wasn't there to defend you. No one should even think of disrupting the summit."
I shrugged, trying to lighten his mood. "If it makes you feel any better, you weren't my match yet."
"That," he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it softly while keeping one hand on the transport controls, "does not make me feel any better. Knowing someone else was more deserving of defending you than I was is just..." He trailed off, parking in his reserved docking space.
His purple eyes locked onto mine, pathways swirling with self-recrimination. "Nothing like that should've happened under my watch. Not to you or anyone else. I'll be better. I'll pay more attention, I promise." Another kiss to my hand, more neural sparks shooting up my arm.
Don't make promises you might not want to keep once the bond novelty wears off.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Orion. You were on the other side of the hall, occupied with Lyrokan ministers. It would've been impossible for you to know what was happening with us Kaelari."
He seemed to brace himself before asking, "Did we— Did we meet last cycle?"
"No, we didn't." I shook my head. "After you spoke to your ministers, you left. We didn't meet for the rest of the month either. As a Combat Specialist then, I only had business with Defense Ministers, so I never saw the point in approaching you. You seemed rather occupied, and no Kaelari in their right mind would think of interrupting a Lyrokan Emperor."
Five years as Commander, never once summoned to the Core Worlds. Mining trash doesn't get palace invitations, no matter how many battles they win. Why would a summit be different?
Orion slammed his head back against the seat, pathways flashing with frustration. "I am beyond incompetent."
"What?" I blinked, confused. What had I said to trigger that response?
He took both my hands, his eyes—those impossible purple eyes—filled with remorse and embarrassment. "Sweetheart, I'm going to be honest with you. Up until I met you, I hated the annual summit gatherings."
I pressed my lips together, nodding. His disdain had been obvious last cycle—the way he'd barely looked at anyone below minister rank, the way he'd escaped as soon as politically possible. "That much was clear."
He closed his eyes tightly for a second, pathways dimming with embarrassment. I added apologetically, "I think I'll just let you finish first."
A small smile crossed his face at my awkward honesty. He kissed my cheek—why did he keep doing that?—before continuing. "You don't have to hold back. I deserve it. You only gave me facts. So... I've long hated these gatherings. I always found ways to leave early. I'm not my father. He would've happily stayed and socialized with ministers late into the night cycle. Personally, I found it a complete waste of time. I would rather lock myself in my command center and review data streams. At least then I could rest knowing I'd accomplished something."
I listened, studying the way his pathways shifted with each admission. He stroked my hand once. "Lyra, say something."
"I'm not following," I admitted. "How are you 'beyond incompetent'?"
His pathways pulsed with shame. "If I'd taken initiative to speak to anyone besides my ministers, I would've been more aware of how the Kaelari stations were faring. After hearing your and Specialist Tobias's speeches, I can't help but feel I'm no better than Alfred Cummings."
That's not... entirely wrong. But also not entirely fair.
He stared into my eyes with intensity that made my skin shift colors. "As officials, we had the power to send help but didn't. And I didn't even seem approachable enough for Specialists to come to me with concerns." He shook his head, scoffing. "What have I even accomplished these eighteen years as Emperor?"
I bit my bottom lip, holding back words that wanted to spill out. Of course he noticed—his thumb reached out to smooth my lip, the touch sending those damned neural sparks through me.
"What is it? Tell me," he whispered.
"I don't know if what I'm about to say will make you feel better."
"I don't care. I want to know." His pathways flared with stubborn determination.
Here goes nothing.
"You're right that you weren't approachable. You're right that you could've done more for the Kaelari stations. But Orion, you're comparing yourself to your father who ruled during peacetime. You've been Emperor during the worst Rogue Collective insurgency in three centuries. You've kept the Empire from fragmenting when half the noble houses wanted to abandon the Outer Rim entirely."
I took a breath, watching his pathways shift. "You know what the Kaelari in the Outer Rim call you? The Absent Emperor. Not because you don't care, but because you're always where the fighting is worst. You might not have been at summits making nice with station commanders, but you've been on the front lines. Do you know how many emperors in history have personally led fleet battles?"
Zero. The answer is zero. Until you.
"You created the integrated defense grid that lets Kaelari and Lyrokan forces actually coordinate instead of competing for resources. You overruled the noble houses to ensure Outer Rim stations got equal equipment allocation. You might not know individual Specialists' names, but your policies have saved thousands of lives."
His pathways flickered with surprise at my words.
"The problem isn't that you're incompetent, Orion. It's that you're one person trying to run an empire while fighting a war while managing species integration that should've happened centuries ago. Your father didn't have to deal with any of that. He got to be the charming social emperor because the galaxy wasn't on fire during his reign."
I squeezed his hands. "You want to know what you've accomplished? You've kept us alive. All of us—Kaelari and Lyrokan alike. That's what you've accomplished. The rest? The social niceties, the personal connections? Those are luxuries you couldn't afford. Until now."
Until me. But don't get too attached to this change. When I'm gone, you'll probably go back to your command center and data streams.
"Besides," I added, trying for levity, "if you'd been more social last cycle, we might have met when you were still bonded to the Imperial neural crown instead of me. Then where would we be?"
His pathways suddenly blazed with a thought that made him grip my hands tighter. "I would've challenged him. Whoever you were bonded to, I would've challenged him for you."
The possessiveness in his voice should have scared me. Instead, my traitorous skin flushed warm, and through our bond, I felt his satisfaction at my response.
Don't read too much into it, Lyra. It's just the bond talking. It's always just the bond.
"Come on," I said, needing to break the intensity of the moment. "We'll be late for the evening meal."
As we exited the transport, his hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward the dining hall. Through our bond, I felt his emotions—guilt mixing with determination, self-doubt warring with hope. He wanted to be better. For the Empire. For his subjects.
For me.
Careful, Orion. Don't make me the reason for your transformation. I won't be around long enough to see it through.
But even as I thought it, I let his hand stay where it was, let myself lean into his warmth just a little.