So Much Trouble

Author's Note: Heyo! Some of you eagle-eyed smut connoisseurs may recognize this short story as taking place in an existing sci-fi universe of mine, so you can enjoy some callbacks to those characters and plot! If it's all new to you, however, none of that matters! Zero familiarity with this universe is needed to enjoy this story for what it is: a vehicle for gratuitous sex! ;)

So Much Trouble consists of three chapters and is already complete. The next chapter should be following this in a few days. :)

Chapter 1 here does not have sex in it yet and is a bit shorter than the others; it's just the setup. That being said, all characters in all chapters are over 18.

Thank you to AwkwardMD and Etaski for the last minute proofread and helping me choose a title. You two are the best!

I had fun writing this—I hope you have fun reading it!

~Eris/D&T

* * *

There were only three left once the last of the Ministers filed out of the Archregent's reception hall, way up in the bird and cloud levels of Zenith Tower.

Admiral Iqarius was one of them; Archregent Strati was another. The head of the Imbrian government had asked him to stay behind, a request he could only assume would lead to instructions she didn't want the Ministry to hear.

The third was Strati's daughter, Gallea, a shiny new and constant presence at state functions over the last few months. Gossip among the powerful whispered the Archregent was grooming her daughter to be her eventual replacement. The admiral had been a green cadet, probably the same age as the Archregent's daughter was now, when Strati had first shown off her baby to a cheering public.

She smiled at him. He returned it, polite, with a small nod.

A long shadow from the tower's southwest side cut an angled line across the hall's polished whitestone floor. Glare from a sun heading toward the horizon blinded on the other side of the shadow, the uncovered glass wall opening the space to blue sky and other tower tops, dozens of stories above the causeways of Cirrivus below.

"Argent," said Strati, addressing him by his first name now that the others had gone, "I need you ..." She put a hand over the lower half of her face, thumb and finger pressing against sharp cheekbones, covering her mouth below ice-blue eyes while she gathered thoughts. Her elbow rested on her opposite wrist where it crossed the front of her pale grey robes.

He stood and waited. The third corner of their triangle, Gallea, watched her mother with a fine line between her brows.

"I need you to have a battalion ready," the Archregent said at last. Her words echoed in the wide, empty hall.

Argent blinked. He opened his mouth, but Strati was there to intercept.

"I'm well aware of the Haaveti negotiation rules," she said. "And I have no intention of breaking the Truce. But should we not be prepared ..." The woman made a wide gesture with the palm that had covered her face. The tight roll of white blonde hair at the back of her skull made her features look even more severe.

He gripped one wrist in the other behind his back. "You think the Rhyolusians are insane enough to break the Truce?"

Gallea's lips had parted, and she looked from him to the Archregent. None of this had come up in discussion with the Ministers, and Strati's daughter, it seemed, hadn't the experience to expect such an open address to the matter of treachery.

"I wouldn't have thought so," said Strati, "but we've never had prisoners escape before, have we? And the one all-fired recessive we've seen in thirty years among them!"

Even the admiral drew his chin in at the cool-headed woman's unusual vehemence.

"We've been murdering each other for hundreds of years," she continued in her new, blunt vein, "and now they will have intel. Now they will know we have a live presahria among us, if they even remember what that is. There's no predicting what they will do, even under Haavet's Truce."

Argent frowned. How could Minister Wehr have let that woman escape? And the minister's own bodyguard a traitor right under his nose? But then the Minister himself had pulled a stunt the likes of which made the admiral shiver to remember. Half a fleet stuck still in the sky, all under the power of one man. One presahria.

Wehr had let the woman go. Their prisoner. The enemy. What secrets she'd uncovered and spilled to her superiors, none of them knew, but it had been enough to spur these negotiations. The Rhyolusians would know about Wehr now, Imbria's Scion and secret weapon, and Imbria couldn't afford for the balance to tip the other way.

"And you'll have me do what?" he asked the Archregent, sans formal address where the years had made them familiar. "I can't bring armed vessels into Haaveti space. It won't just end the negotiation—the Arbitrators will revoke all future access for Imbria. We'll never have negotiation opportunities again, at least not on Haavet." And there was nowhere else but Haavet, but the Archregent already knew that.

"I would have you position at least one battalion just outside of K-jump range," Strati said.

"Mother!"

Argent's eyes snapped to Gallea. Sunlight haloed the edges of her hair in gold and passed sideways through her eyes to make them shine an even brighter blue than her mother's. The outburst was not like the young woman who maintained a quiet presence at every meeting of late. Strati cut her daughter a look, and Gallea closed her mouth, packing away her shock.

The admiral shared Gallea's surprise, but he kept it off his face. He'd only held his current rank these last three months, ever since his predecessor, DiVerio, had been found lying broken in a stairwell of the CODef building, the metal spokes of a salt rose jammed in his temple. His murder had to have come at the hands of the escaping prisoners—to consider any other possibility was to invite chaos into their entire system.

As though anyone will miss DiVerio, the twisted prick.

"I can give the order," he said, rubbing his chin with thumb and fingers. "Do you want Wehr informed?" None of them could know the motivations of the Records Minister, not after his aid in the escape, no matter how sound his reasoning had later been in front of his peers.

Strati squinted and cocked her head the slightest angle.

"No."

Argent's brows rose. But then he gave her a nod. He was both surprised and not. After silence spread out in the hall, he cleared his throat. "Anything else?"

The Archregent inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. "I don't think so, Admiral."

Ah, the rank was back. He knew a dismissal when he heard it, but this was well, as he now had additional orders to hand down. "Shall I travel with the main delegation?"

"I think it best," she said. "It will look odd if you aren't there. It's my understanding the Rhyolusian fleet admiral will be there, along with the Zahr and his Phylarchs."

"Very well. I'll keep this quiet."

"Appreciated, Admiral." Her tight nod gave him leave to turn and head for the door to the elevator lobby.

"Argent! Wait!"

His name in the empty hall was a jolt to his spine. All shock and immediate focus like a blast from a cryogun. Argent turned to find Gallea with stricken features, her weight forward on one foot, as though she went after him. The Archregent stared at her daughter like the young woman was some exotic animal she'd never seen.

Strati's daughter had never addressed him by his name. He was Admiral Iqarius. Or Commander, before recent events.

"He ... he can't leave!" said Gallea, eyes darting.

Argent turned his head slowly to Strati and let his eyes follow second. The Archregent knotted a confused brow at her daughter. "The admiral has responsibilities, Gallea. What is this?"

"This is ..." Blue eyes searched as though forces pulled the girl in two directions. "This ... I want him!" The plea turned in his direction, and his hands dropped to his sides as though he would defend himself. "Argent, I want you!"

His jaw went slack, but he didn't know what words were, in the moment.

"Daughter, what?"

"You can't let him leave!" Gallea's eyes shone wet, and the fullness of her lower lip trembled. "What if something happens on Haavet? What if he never comes back, and I never get a chance t—" Fine fingers flew up to cover her mouth, but she'd blurted enough.

"This is inappropriate, Gallea." Strati's spine straightened. "Admiral Iqarius has to be on the same transport tomorrow morning as the rest of the delegation. You can't force yourself in as a distraction on a whim." The woman's lips were thin and tight.

Still, he couldn't make any speech come out. Gallea ... wanted him? As in ...

"Argent, please." Gallea took a step in his direction. "Send one of the commanders. Send Commander Wehr, he'll want to go with his brother."

"Gallea." The Archregent wore as stern a face as he'd ever seen. "We can't disrupt an entire fleet operation for ... for whatever this is." The woman tossed a gesture between him and her daughter. Argent wanted to back out of the room.

I've known her since she was a child. This is insane.

"This is ..." Gallea shot a desperate look in his direction. "This is my Wish." She lifted her chin, fists curling just below her hips. Defiant eyes were on her mother.

Argent felt as if all the air had left the hall. A pair of gulls wheeled past outside, their bodies turning sideways to show the white feathers under their wings.

Strati's shoulders fell as though someone had dropped a full bag of hapcrete on her. "Gallea, no." She shook her head in slow disbelief.

"I reached majority last year." Gallea's stance drew up, and Argent tried to avoid seeing the way some of her curves shifted under dark blue fabric.

What. In the deep blue sea. Is happening here.

"You can't simply call for your Wish at any time," Strati said. "Have I been no better example of responsibility for you?"

"You will deny me then?" The younger woman's voice rose, both in pitch and volume, as though there were a crowd she wanted to hear. The only crowd was the three of them, and it had begun to suffocate enough. "My Wish? You will outright tell me 'no'?"

The Archregent's narrow face crumpled to an expression of pleading he'd never seen. To deny the Wish was unheard of. When an Imbrian came of age, they got their Wish. It was a symbol of the Unity—the needs of one were the needs of all, and the Unity would provide. It could not have material value, it could not harm anyone, but outside of the grossest punishment, no family would refuse.

For the head of government to do as much to her own daughter? The scandal would cost enough time and effort to derail their careful planning for months. They already prepared to negotiate with Rhyolus when two thirds of the planet favored the war—how many more strikes to her popularity could Strati's regency take?

"Gallea." He tried to step in. To recover for the stunned Archregent. "This isn't what you want. What you're asking is—"

"I know what I want, Argent." In three strides, she stood in front of him, and the admiral swallowed. He had to admit she was no longer a girl. No longer simply Strati's daughter, but a young woman with flashing eyes and a subtle scent and soft limbs he could—

No! What is wrong with you?

"I want you to stay." Gallea addressed him, as though he had the authority.

Argue. Argue, for fuck's sake! You're just standing here like ...

Like what? Like he was only waiting for permission? She was half his age; Strati would have him executed.

Is that all that's stopping you?

"The admiral is not staying," said Strati. "The transport leaves in the morning, and he will be on it. The man is not a pet, for you to demand, even as your Wish. His role is indispensable in this."

Gallea did not look at her mother, but instead only up at him. Were those tears about to spill? How long had this been coming to a boil? And right under his nose, no less.

"Then ... then just for tonight," said Gallea, eyes locked with his. "I want him to ... Argent, I want you to be my first."

His eyebrows tried to climb off his face. Argent shook his head, slow, and his mouth fell open to say something. Anything.

"Please," she said, and grabbed up his slack hand. "This is my Wish. I know you want this. I've seen you look at me."

The admiral spluttered and threw a glance of denial at Strati. Any man would look. Gallea was young and taut and dewy, and the Unity fucking take him, how could he be so blind? He'd sponsored her internship at CODef for two months, before his promotion, and she'd been right at his elbow at least a third of the time. The Archregent's daughter had been a bright student, asking questions, showing plenty of interes—

Oh.

Her fingers were very warm where they curled around into his palm. Her eyes were very big, as though they waited for him to pour something into them.

"Gallea." The note of carefully balanced reasoning was clear in Strati's voice. "You know I would never deny your Wish. I know you've been saving it. But Argent is—the admiral is not a servant for me to command him to ... to... He has to agree to this, for Unity's sake!" The Archregent shot him a look. Help me, here! You can't agree!

"Argent, please." Gallea brought her other hand to catch his, as well. "Just for tonight. Before you leave."

Did she go out of her way to make her breasts rise and fall with her breath? Unity!

"This is wrong," he said, though who he was trying to convince he couldn't say. "You're too young, Gallea, you ca—"

"I'm old enough to sign my name on the Defense Ministry roster and go die in the war like my father." Her cheeks went red and her back stiffened, but she didn't let go his hand. "I'm old enough to know what I want. I am old enough to do this." Something softened in her grip, but only there. Not her posture. Not her bold stare. "Will you be the one denying my Wish?"

The last time he'd had to keep such an inappropriate gut reaction off his face was when he'd learned DiVerio was dead. The pitiless grin he'd smothered then had sprung up as fast as a flood of male urges was doing now.

He and Strati exchanged helpless looks.

"I ... I don't want to deny you, Gallea, but ..." And Argent didn't want to deny her. That was the filth beneath the veneer he showed to Strati.

"Good." She pulled on his wrist. "This is my Wish. This is my Wish, Mother." The Archregent's daughter was tugging him backward, even as she raised her voice to make her choice loud and clear.

His steps were less reluctant than he could be proud of as the young woman made to drag him toward the elevator lobby. I'll fix this. I'll fix this, his eyes promised a crestfallen Strati, while he doubted he would make himself do any such thing.

"Gallea, be ..." The Archregent sounded like she was going to choke. "Be careful."

"I'm careful," said Gallea, but not loud enough for her mother to have heard more than a mutter. Blue eyes kept fast to his, and she pulled him past the doors. Into an elevator, where he stared, mute like something hard had struck the back of his head.

"Secure level three," she said, and the car closed and lifted at her command.