A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 18

Nate sat down with a thump. He studied the office surroundings. Rivero's office. Sparse decorations and mountains of paper. A plant sat on her desk — one of its leafy strands was still shaded green, a dying last breath amongst the wilting brown. The plant pot was pooled with water but Rivero was fighting a losing battle.

Nate sighed. He hadn't been asked to come to her office for a good reason. He was in trouble and he didn't know why.

Although he could guess. The course was still going badly. Losing, losing everything they threw at him.

He got his ass kicked in one on ones. His never-say-die heroics against Xavier only served to make the other trainees more determined to put his lights out for good. Where they'd wait for other trainees to shake the punch out and get back to their feet, Nate couldn't blink before he got a follow-up sucker punch.

Rivero seemed to think he was a useful training tool for teaching Judge levels of ruthlessness.

The obstacle courses didn't go any better. He'd run into some challenge that he'd try to tackle, and inevitably do it in a way that wasn't Judge enough. If he used his brain, he was being too slow, too hesitant. If he went full speed ahead, then he wasn't seeing the third choice out of the two options, the hidden way.

And the skirmishes...the more he tried to help his team, the more he hindered them. They were slowed down by him arguing with Graziano and they would lose. Some of them would blame him. Some of them wouldn't. But he felt the blame anyway, felt their stares, felt the judgment in their silence. Why was he here, they'd think. Why was he on their team?

And if he kept his mouth shut and followed mutely, they'd still lose, because Graz was a terrible leader. All balls and no brain.

Still, he'd made friends, of a sort. Bastian had taken a liking to him, even though Bastian took a liking to everyone. Lunar was a cutie and her desperate desire to become a great warrior reminded him of himself when he was a young boy joining the Fed. Thinking he could make a difference, thinking he'd be noticed.

Now he had been noticed. Nate heard Rivero's tell-tale footsteps coming up the hall.

He should have stayed under the radar.

"Don't stand up." Rivero cut him off. Her eyemask was around her neck, so her glowing red eyes shone through a curtain of glorious white hair.

This wasn't good. He settled back warily into the wooden chair.

"Question, trainee."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Why are you such a pussy?"

A flush swept across his cheeks.

"I don't und—"

"Yes, you do. I'm calling you a pussy. A coward. And I'm asking why?"

"I'm not a—"

"Yes, you are. You fuck up everything. You zig when you should zag, you hold your tongue when you should shout, you follow like a bitch when you should lead, you pull your punches—"

His nostrils flared. "I'm not a pussy, I'm trying as hard—"

"Are you? I've never seen someone lose so much." She threw down a thick stack of paper. "A long storied history of bug-killing. Damn, Clancy, you're pest control with a plasma rifle. You bleed fucking insecticide. You lead your boys into the war's worst battles and you get them back out again. And they love you for it. So why the fuck are you failing?"

Silence reigned. Nate breathed loud, glaring at the woman. She snorted, breathing up a few strands of her shockingly white hair. It fell in front of her eyes, but those glowing crimson eyes stared straight through. The hair often covered her eyes — it didn't seem to matter to her. Could her eyes see through everything? See through him?

"Am I failing?" When it came, his voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

"Yes."

"I...I guess I don't know what you're trying to do. I don't understand the purpose of this course. I get that Judges are this unbeatable unfightable thing, but I don't know how this—"

"I'm trying to get you to think differently. You fight like a Fed, so you lose. You run like a Fed, so you fail. In skirmishes, you're too afraid to lead because you're still, for some reason that eludes me, still trying to be liked, so you end up giving half-friendly half-patronizing advice, so you all fail."

"I am a Fed, so—"

She sat down on the desk in front of him. "Judges don't ever lose. Judges go to the ball and they fuck the hottest girl and they find the bug traitor and they kill him. And then they kill his date, just because they can. There's no laws that hold them. There's no public questioning. There's no gray area. There is the Judge and the fucking terrifying power they hold."

She leaned forward and gripped his chin tightly, staring into his eyes with her scary red gaze. "And with that power comes the responsibility to wield it. Falter or fail, the whole Council loses the respect and the power they hold."

"What are you trying—" She slapped him, hard. Blood oozed from his gum, his cheek stinging.

"What the fuck—"

"I'm telling you to find a way to win. Or die trying."

She slapped him again.

"Fucking stop—"

Again.

"I'm hitting you, Clancy." She mocked him. "What are you going to do about it? Are you angry? What's the matter, can only kill the the bug cannon-fodder? Or is it because I'm a girl."

She ran a hand up her thigh, letting her fingers dance on the bare skin. And then she hit him again.

He growled at her, feeling the red coat his vision. This fucking bitch. He wasn't going to play her game. His eyes tightened.

"Oh yeah, is that what you like?" She pushed herself close, so close he could feel her breath on him. "Like getting hit by girls? Are you a little bitch who likes being led around by that mafia moron?"

She grabbed the crotch of his pants. "No, not hard yet?"

"Fuck off, you can't do that—"

"I can do what I like, unless you stop me." She shoved him back. "Hit me or fuck me or fight me!" Her lips curled. "Just show some balls!"

She made to slap him. He caught her wrist.

"Now we're talking." She smiled. It was a hard, thin smile.

Fuck my life.

Her right hook came so fast he barely blocked it. She caught his answering jab and twisted his arm, but he stumbled back, put the chair between them.

She simply kicked the chair into him, so hard it splintered. He threw it out of the way.

"Fail. You could have used it as a weapon." She snarled.

"Why don't you shut your fucking mouth?" He snapped. She only laughed, coming at him again.

A weak front jab, only a disguise for the snapped up roundhouse kick that smashed into his jaw. How did she change stances so quick?

He threw himself back.

"Running away as always." She shook her head. "What's the point of giving yourself time to think when you—"

He launched himself at her, missed both punches, overextended. Her kick slammed into his shin — the deceptive blow that any real fighter knew was a death knell. Enough hits to the shin and you couldn't fucking walk, couldn't lift your legs, you just shuffled like a zombie.

Once, twice, thrice — he couldn't make enough space as she smashed his shin bruised, so instead he grabbed her foot, taking her fists to his face in answer. She laughed as he held onto it, like a small child clinging to his mother.

"Is this really the—"

He yanked hard, pulling her onto her back and for a second he thought victory as he made to put his weight onto her, but then she was gone. A foot to the face. A nasty crunch.

Fuck, he'd only just had that nose fixed. He stared blearily out, blocking everything he could. She was faster, too fast.

But you're stronger. The thought came unbidden. Was it Isabelle?

Blood streamed for his mouth. A cut above his eye had re-opened, coloring his vision red. This couldn't go on for much longer. Someone was shouting from outside her office. Had she locked the door?

A lucky hand caught her wrist, yanked her forward. He wrapped his arms around her, a bear-hug which she ducked out of.

But too slow. Instead, his arms settled around her neck. She gasped out as he tightened, smashing rib-crunching punches into him, knees slamming into his crotch. He gasped and shook but held on tight.

Squeezing.

For a moment, her eyes went blurry. And then she rolled her eyes.

Something hooked around his ankle. Something grabbed his balls. Something broke in his hip. He didn't even know, only he found himself on his back. And her above him.

He grinned, teeth red. "Knew you couldn't resist me."

She punched him straight out.

###

Ana shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Prince Elathariel's speech rose to its climax, all boom and blather. "...and it is a shame that I will bear for the rest of my life. For if it is not for love and honor that we risk our lives, then is it a life worth living? I beg forgiveness of both the great Empress and of the Princess, my betrothed, my beautiful bride. I shall spend the rest of my life making penance."

He bowed his head. The court held their breath. "And such penance must be made in time and affection, not by way of gifts or trinkets." He held up a single finger. "But," He grinned with a practiced charm. "If trinkets can grant me the time to show my affection, then perhaps they have worth? After all, what's mine is yours and to make you mine so all mine is yours would surely be a worthwhile pursuit of mine, and I hope, yours."

The court laughed. Honeyed words, thought Ana. Wordplay and charm and riches — she'd once thought this was romance. This play for the court's attention, for their laughter and smiles.

Nate hadn't told he loved her. Not yet. But she could feel it, deep inside, feel a connection to him, feel his moods and wants, his affection. He stroked her cheek when she lapped at him, held her hair while she bobbed her head, let her suck on his thumb when he rooted himself inside her, never judged her for her pleasures, her desires, her fantasies. Her submission.

He saved her again and again, pushed her to be her best, pushed himself to match her. He squeezed her tight when she sat on his lap, enveloped her when she spooned her body back against him, kissed her neck to say goodnight, slipped his fingers down when she was being naughty and squirming her bottom against him...

Fuck. She shook her head, feeling the shiver in her core, the wetness of her panties. The Prince was smiling again, presenting a glimmering necklace. Didn't he know, thought Ana, that she already had everything she ever wanted?

"A beautiful gift, Prince Elathariel. My daughter speaks for herself, but know that you hold yourself true and steady, as is expected of your station." Mother spoke, and his expectant gaze turned to her own.

"How beautiful. Your generosity is boundless, Prince Elathariel." The necklace was beautiful. The gem was as big as her hand, sparkling and colorless, but it shined a thousand different colors in the reflection of the light.

She felt nothing. Her Mother stiffened a little beside her, and Ana realized she had to say more. "I can only say that I am grateful that you remained safe, as I'm sure your people are, and thankful that you hold me in such esteem to present me with such an astonishing gift." Each word came like it was forced through a thick treacle. This had come easy to her, at one point. "You are indeed a Lunari of Lunari, a noble of nobles and a Prince of Princes."

She winced internally. At her side, Cora kept her face carefully blank, but she could feel her amusement.

The Prince's face lit up, though. "Then perhaps you would do the honor of allowing me to walk you around the gardens?"

"A lovely idea." Mother decided.

"Good luck." Cora offered. Ana concentrated on her steps, one foot in front of the other. She felt light-headed. Was it possible to be sick from love? She'd heard of such a thing.

The Prince stood too close, talked too loud, blathering compliments and egoistical stories. She kept a smile on her face and stared at the gardens. Mother had grown some nasty flora, teethy vines that snapped at the insects that flew nearby.

She debated walking the Prince closer to them. Too risky.

"You are silent, Princess."

"I am...troubled."

"By my presence?"

"By my capture. I was taken, hurt, ripped of my dress, humiliated. And then I looked to the stars and saw your ship flying away."

His jaw set even as he lowered his head in contrition. "I thought you were dead, beloved. I flew to save my people, my attendants, my confidants. The palace was in ruins. I thought I was doing what was right."

"Perhaps you were." Ana studied him. He looked uncomfortable. Was it only the discomfort of being judged? Someone had betrayed her people, had let in the invaders at the door. Someone had deactivated the communications, the shields.

He gave her a weak smile. "Perhaps I am not a hero, one from the fairytales. But I am a good man trying to bring our people together."

She ran her fingers over a red rose, let it prick her fingers, let the blood drip.

"Can a girl not want more than politics? A marriage of love? A fairytale love? A spark that becomes a burning fire." Ana stared to the stars.

He coughed. "Is it not true that love cannot only spark, but also, in time, bloom? Some might say that a love that blooms is as mighty as any love." He cast his arm over the gardens.

They spoke the lilting cadence of the courts — and even Ana fell back into its rhythms, she could only think that she missed the way Nate spoke so straightly.

She smiled, taking his proffered handkerchief to wipe the blood from her fingers. It reminded her of cleaning Nate's injuries, when he lay on the riverfront, bleeding from the bullet he'd taken. That moment she'd been brave, that she'd rewarded him for his bravery — the best decision she'd ever made.

"And can love bloom, do you think, when in contract? In palatial courtrooms, under the eye of all? Shadowed away, a demure Princess to nod and smile. Can that love bloom?"

He grimaced. "Is that how you see me, then? Your jailer?"

She laughed, loud and pure. "I think not of you, and therein lies the problem." That was the truth. He was not unkind or ugly or unattractive. He was simply...irrelevant. He did not matter. He only existed to be a comparison in which he would always be sorely lacking.

"Then," He took a deep breath. "That is what I will change. I will not ask that you see me favorably, but only that you will see me. I shall not leave. A walk around the gardens, from time to time, and given time, I can hope to change your mind, to bloom a love beyond all bounds." He smiled, his hand reaching out and then retracting, like he was going to stroke a hair behind her ear.

That would have been awful. That was Nate's to do and no one else's.

He continued. "If anything, it will keep your Mother happy, no?"

Ana did not sigh, audibly. But almost. "Very well." She curtsied and watched him retreat. "What good is a man to a woman in love?" She murmured to herself.

She returned to her room. Inside, Cora stood in front of her full-length mirror, twisting around to look at herself. The pink-haired girl prodded at her metal neck, examining the chrome metal, ribbed like a water hose. Her face screwed up in disgust.

Cora caught Ana in the mirror and jumped.

"Sorry. Did I startle you?"

"No-no," Cora shook her head and then smiled weakly. "Yeah, you did."

Ana stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "You look tired, friend. Didn't you sleep?"

Cora didn't answer for a moment, her face clouding up with emotions as she saw Ana's body next to hers in the mirror. Then, she processed the question. "Not easy to sleep in all this..." Cora gestured to the lavish decor.

Ana looked around at her own room. Cora had the one next to it, which was kept empty for Ana's friends, of which she had almost none. The skirting board, the ceiling trim, the doors, all lined with aquastone, Ana's favorite gem — teal blue water embedded in a rock, swishing back and forth, but so slowly it couldn't disturb. It was tranquil.

"You don't like it?"

"I'm used to being in a room with twenty others. Sweaty, smelly, having to watch my back. It's so fuck—" She cut herself off. "Too quiet. I feel bad even swearing here."

"Sleep with me tonight." Ana requested, tugging her down onto the bed. "I need the company anyway. This bed's too large."

Cora gave her a skeptical look.

"I'm lonely." Ana insisted.

Cora spread her arms out, fingers reaching out to touch the Lunari's skin. She kept doing that, fascinated with the change she'd been through, even while she was still half-disbelieving. "As long as it doesn't smell like your shipbed." Cora relented.

Ana fell silent, gazing up at her room's ceiling, like she had for years prior. A different life.

"What's turning the cogs?" Cora asked softly.

"Huh?" She opened a bleary eye.

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

"Oh. Trying to figure out how to get back to Nate without, well...without destroying the balance and unity of my people. My wedding was important."

Cora shuffled closer, letting her foot tangle with Ana's. "Sometimes you just need to do what's right for you, hun. It's not your job to manage the world."

"But it is my duty." Ana argued. She thwapped Cora's foot with her own, admiring the mix of their colored toenails. Pink for Cora, aqua for Ana.

"Sounds to me like your mother is the power and the oppressor. She's the shield against the world but the spear pressing the shield down. Your duty," Cora spat the word out, "would end up tying more people into her rule. You're an icon to your people, aren't you? Maybe your people need to see you free to realize how important it is."

Ana made to snort, but the sound came out like a sniffle. She rolled over and buried her head into Cora's shoulder. She wasn't Nate, but she was here.

"I can't be free." Her voice was muffled. "Not while Mother is still alive."

Cora laughed, gently tugging out a curl in Ana's hair. "I think killing her might bring some heat onto you and Nate."

"I don't wanna kill her." Ana said into Cora's shoulder. She kicked her feet into the bed, screwing up the covers with her fists, allowing herself to be childish. "I just want...I don't know what I want. I want Nate. Nate makes everything simple."

Cora rolled her eyes. "Don't start going on about Nate again, we'll be here for hours. He's not that great."

Ana grinned and lightly pressed her teeth down into Cora's shoulder.

"Ah, you bitch!" Cora pushed her away, clutching her shoulder like she'd been bitten by the hot fangs of a sizzle-snake.

Ana giggled as she rolled away from Cora's answering pillow-smack. "That's what happens when you bad-talk Nate!"

"Shit-talk, Princess, bad-talk isn't a thing!"

"It is! Nate likes it when I do it!"

"That's dirty talk, you dumb slut." Cora laughed as she threw a pillow at Ana. Ana giggled as they smacked each other silly until they tired themselves out, laying back on the bed, hand in hand.

The silence stretched on.

"Maybe," Cora thought out loud. "Maybe you becoming your own person, chasing after what you want, maybe that'll teach your Mother."

"Teach my Mother what? She's not one for reflectiveness."

"Teach her that either you're not going to be her perfect little daughter...or it'll teach her enemies that she can be stood up to."

Ana stared at Cora balefully. "Really? Start a revolution just so I can be with my boyfriend?"

Cora smirked. "Crazier things have happened."

Ana plucked at her dress. Too heavy and it showed no skin — it made her look like an elderly priestess. She'd picked it deliberately but now it was hot and itchy on her skin. "Whatever it takes." Ana decided. "Nate's first day off is in three weeks, so we need to leave in one week to get there."