Chapter Text
no·va /ˈnōvə/
The sudden appearance of a bright, "new" star due to an interaction between two stars, that is much brighter than the stars involved.
A rainbow of light streaks past the viewport, casting Shieda’s face in a pale glow. Slingspace shimmers in his wide eyes, his breath fogging the duraquartz.
“How much farther, Father?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.
“I only just hailed the Armada to announce our proximity,” says Father. “T-minus two hours before we can board. Think you can hold still that long?”
“Uh-huh.” Shieda presses his face closer to the window until his nose squishes up into it. He could stay in slingspace forever, he thinks, as long as he’s watching the kaleidoscope of colors passing by.
Father gives a quiet grunt, either of acknowledgment or doubt. It doesn’t matter much to Shieda, who’s been mesmerized by the light of space for the past six hours and shows no signs of getting bored of it any time soon. If he does, the sheer thrill of seeing the Locus Armada will surely overcome any boredom.
He’s come with Father to some military functions—generally, those that would otherwise necessitate Shieda being left alone for weeks at a time—but all of those had been on Demaxian-occupied planets, never on the Locus Armada itself. Shieda has heard stories of how magnificent the ships of the Armada are, the towering meks guarding its corridors. For as long as he can remember, he’s dreamed of seeing the Armada, and now...
Now he gets to walk its corridors himself.
“Remember what I told you,” Father says.
“I remember, Father,” Shieda replies, glancing over his shoulder. Father is focused on the ship’s controls, pulling out of slingspace to continue the rest of their trip manually. The stars coalesce back into a mass of glittering lights, the colors of slingspace fading into dots of pale blue and white. “Follow your lead. Don’t speak to the Emperor. Or the Empress. Or the Prince. Or—“
“Anything else?” The smallest of smiles pulls at the corner of Father’s mouth.
“Don’t go running in the halls,” Shieda continues, holding up his hand to count on his fingers. Father looks at him sidelong, his expression softening as Shieda lists more rules until he’s run out of breath. “Did—did I miss any?”
Father shakes his head, returning his focus to the controls. Shieda jumps away from the side viewport, clambering up behind Father’s seat to look out the front. He can see, up ahead, an absolute mass of ships, headed by the biggest craft Shieda has ever seen in his entire life. Even with all the stories he’s heard, he never could have imagined a ship so big.
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Sit back down,” Father says, reaching back to push at Shieda’s shoulder. “It could get rough while we pull in. I don’t want the first thing we do when we get there to be taking you to the medbay for a split skull.”
Shieda reluctantly goes back to his seat, strapping in as quickly as he can. It doesn’t stop him from bouncing in place. Or leaning forward to try and see out the front viewport anyway. Father sighs, looking at Shieda over his shoulder, an absolutely unimpressed set to his eyes. Chided, Shieda sits back, tucking his knees up to his chest. (He still tries to look out the viewport.)
The descent into the landing bay is as smooth as anyone could hope for, and there are half a dozen uniformed guards waiting at the bottom of the boarding ramp, standing at attention. It makes Shieda feel terribly important. They all bow at the waist as Shieda and Father walk between the two columns, which nearly takes Shieda’s breath away.
What does take his breath away instead is the actual interior of the flagship. The walls gleam gold, with the most incredible meks that Shieda’s ever seen patrolling the corridors. Dignitaries from other worlds, other species, dressed in the most amazing clothes; other soldiers, Generals like Father, giving nods of respect as they pass. Shieda never wants to leave.
Father walks with confidence, head high, shoulders back. Shieda sucks in a breath and follows suit. He wants to live here, and to do that he needs to act like the people who do, all dignity and seriousness. The others passing them look down at him with barely-concealed smiles; he knows it’s because they recognize how great he’s going to be when he grows up.
The path leads, eventually, to a pair of wide gilded doors, decorated with an ornate Imperial crest across the center point. Father holds out a hand, and Shieda stays back to watch as Father approaches the control panel. A light turns on, blinking three times at the silver interface across Father’s left eye, before a faint beep sounds and the doors slide open with a hiss.
Beyond, Shieda can see some kind of office, with a gigantic console in the center, above which hovers a slowly spinning tri-dimensional space chart. To the side of it stands a serious-looking man, clothed all in black, with grey-white hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. He’s not looking at the door, though—he’s talking to someone Shieda can’t see, with absolutely no animation to his body language.
“—think the children need to be present,” he’s saying. “Surely they can—ah. General.” He stands at attention, inclining his head sharply in greeting. The light of the space chart glints off his gilded interface. He glances at Shieda, and the ghost of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Corporal.”
Shieda puffs up his chest proudly, but says nothing in reply. He doesn’t recall Father saying anything about speaking to the Emperor’s Ordinals, but he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be speaking directly to them, either.
“Ordinal Swain,” Father acknowledges, crossing the threshold and bowing at the waist. Shieda blinks, then quickly follows his lead.
“You’re early,” says Ordinal Swain, not disapprovingly.
“I trust I’m not interrupting?” Father asks as he straightens.
Another man—another Ordinal, with flaming red hair pulled back tight to his scalp, steps forward. Shieda can’t remember his first name, but he knows he’s Ordinal du Couteau. He gives the same sharp nod, hands folded behind his back. “Not at all. We were simply discussing—“
Shieda doesn’t hear whatever he says next. Like a cannon blast, something crashes into him, sending him right to the floor. Dazed, he tries to look at his attacker, but all he can see is a lump of person draped over him, a shock of red hair—oh.
“Hi, Shie,” says Katarina, pushing herself up. She grins down at him, showing off a missing front tooth. “Papa didn’t say you were coming too.”
It’s hard to tell if she’s pleased or disappointed with the surprise. Shieda chooses to believe it’s the former. He tries to push her off so he can sit upright, but Katarina refuses to budge, and she’s bigger than him. “Father wanted to show me the Armada,” Shieda says, puffing up as much as he can manage with a whole person on top of him.
“There’s a thought,” says Ordinal Swain. “Trouble?”
Katarina perks up, finally sitting up enough that Shieda can move. “Yes, Uncle Papa?”
“Why don’t you show your friend around the flagship? You seem to know all the shortcuts, after all,” Ordinal Swain says, giving Katarina a knowing look.
Katarina beams. “Yessir, Uncle Papa,” she says, throwing up a salute. “C’mon, Shie, I’m gonna give you a tour!”
Shieda would love that if he could stand up. He shoves at her, giving her as hard a scowl as he can muster—which finally convinces her to stand up. Katarina even sticks out an arm to help him up. It doesn’t work very well, and she almost falls over pulling him off the floor, but Shieda does eventually get to stand up again.
“Can I, Father?” Shieda says, unable to mask the hope in his voice.
Father raises an eyebrow. “If you can be back here in three hours—”
“I can get him back,” Katarina pipes up. “Promise.”
“Trouble...” Ordinal du Couteau gives her a stern look.
Katarina seems completely unfazed. “I’ll give him a better tour later, Papa,” she says, putting an arm around Shieda’s shoulders and squeezing him to herself.
Ordinal du Couteau and Ordinal Swain share a Look, one of those Looks that parents get, before Ordinal Swain shakes his head. Father crosses his arms, staring at Shieda expectantly. This time, Katarina doesn’t speak up for him.
“I will be, Father,” Shieda promises.
Father’s expression softens, if only a little. He tilts up his chin just slightly, and then jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Very well, then. Three hours.”
“Thank you, Father!” Shieda manages to call out before Katarina yanks him out of the room by his wrist. He hears muffled laughter from behind the door when it closes after them.
The sentries in the corridor pay Shieda and Katarina little mind as Katarina drags him through the ship. She’s telling him all about the things they pass, her mouth going at a light year per minute, and Shieda does his absolute best to drink it in. Down that way is the main audience chamber, which is where the Emperor lives. Over there is where all the nobility spend all their time, and over there is the dining hall, which is definitely the best room on the whole flagship. If they go through this set of corridors, they’ll end up in the library. Shieda gasps, stopping dead in his tracks when they pass the threshold.
It’s beautiful. Shelves and shelves of data drives, with custodial meks hovering amongst the shelves to organize and retrieve the drives. Each section of the library glows neon from the identification tags on the drives’ exposed sides, a mesmerizing rainbow of light that leaves Shieda speechless and frozen with wonder. He’s never seen such an enormous library in his whole life, never even imagined that one so big could exist.
“I want to live here,” he breathes.
Katarina elbows him in the ribs. “Nerd,” she says.
Shieda sticks out his tongue at her. She grins, grabbing his arm and pulling him further in. He follows with a maladroit sort of hop, her yanking putting him off-balance. It’s almost impossible to look around and watch where he’s going, but Shieda tries anyway, determined not to miss a thing. He wants so badly to climb up the shelves, to pick a drive and just read for hours and hours until Father comes looking—
“Shie—!” is the only warning Shieda gets before he crashes into something very solid.
A loud crash rings through the air. Time slows. Katarina yelps a bad word. Shieda falls down on his rear, a small stack of data drives falling to the floor after him. Above him, Katarina is still standing, eyes wide and mouth pinched shut. Next to her is a boy with clear blue eyes and long, dark hair, still holding out his hands like the data drives hadn’t just crashed to the ground.
Oh, Shieda thinks.
The boy blinks, and then cracks a crooked, sheepish smile before reaching out a hand. With a gulp, Shieda grasps it, and the boy pulls him to his feet. He’s a few inches taller than Shieda, and his grip on Shieda’s wrist is strong.
Oh, Shieda thinks again.
“Sorry about that,” the boy says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t see around all the...” He gestures to the scattered mess of data drives with a self-conscious grimace. “Oops.”
Shieda shakes his head. “My bad,” he says, suddenly unable to raise his voice above a mumble.
“You’re both klutzes,” Katarina says cheerfully, and starts picking up the drives. She looks up at the boy, grinning toothily. “What’re you doing here?”
The boy pulls a face at her. “Reading, what’s it look like?” He rolls his eyes, but crouches down to clean up too. “I was gonna take these back to my room. Father’s busy all day, and I was getting bored...”
“Think you grabbed too much,” Katarina says. She piles her stack onto the boy’s, and flicks the tip of his nose. “Dork.”
The boy sticks out his tongue. “Whatever.”
Shieda’s just standing there awkwardly, like some kind of really dumb statue. Katarina sticks a hand up at him, which he stares at for a few seconds too long before actually grabbing it to help her up. The boy has his data drives stacked into a neat tower now, which he scoops up before getting back to his feet again. He puts them on a nearby table, and then leans against the edge. He’s smiling. Shieda’s having a difficult time dealing with it.
“So,” he says, “what’re you doing here?” And then, almost as an afterthought: “Dweeb.”
Katarina shoves the boy in the shoulder, grinning. “Giving Shieda a tour, dummy. He’s never seen the Armada before.”
“Really?” the boy says, looking at Shieda with a gleam in his eyes. “Can I come? I know some places you might not be able to get to.”
Katarina and Shieda share a look. Shieda shrugs, unsure of what else to do. Words are hard.
“Eh, sure,” Katarina says. “Just don’t slow us down. And you should probably put those away,” she adds, with a gesture to the stack of drives.
“I can just take them back to my room,” the boy says, hefting the tower into his arms again.
“Do you—” Shieda falters. “Can I help?”
The boy’s grin is wide and bright. He’s missing a tooth at the corner of his smile. “Sure,” he says, stretching out his arms so Shieda can take a few drives off the top. “Thanks.”
“Mhmm.” Shieda can say that much, at least.
The boy takes the lead, walking with long, confident steps. Shieda finds himself entranced by his clothes, all bright colors and elaborate, shimmering embroidery. It’s like the nobles he saw on the way in, but... fancier. Prettier. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Katarina jabs him in the ribs again.
“You’ve got a cru-u-ush,” she sing-whispers, her smile devilish.
“No I don’t!” Shieda hisses, heat rising up his cheeks. He glances at the boy, horrified, but he doesn’t seem to have heard. Thank gods.
Katarina just grins in the absolute worst way possible.
“Hey,” the boy says, glancing over his shoulder. Shieda barely resists the urge to pull his tunic up over his whole face. “Can I be tour guide? I know all kinds of stuff. Probably more than you do, Kat.”
“Ugh, I guess,” Katarina says, but she’s still smiling. “You’re just gonna be a baby about it if I say no.”
The boy wrinkles his nose. “I am not,” he says. “Hey—Shieda, right? Is it okay if I do the tour guide thing?”
Shieda nods. “Yeah.” If he sticks to single syllables, he won’t look like a complete doofus in front of this boy that he does not have a crush on, because that would be dumb, even if this boy has incredible blue eyes and amazing clothes and hair and a big, friendly smile because Shieda doesn’t even know his name. So it’d be dumb.
The boy’s grin is as bright as a supernova. “Thanks, Shieda.”
He starts describing the same things Katarina had, but slower, with more detail. That way is the throne room, which took a year to build and has holo-portraits of every Emperor from the first dynasty up until now. Over there is the dining hall, and did you know that there are chefs from twelve different systems working in the kitchen? (Shieda didn’t. He’s hanging on every word.) Past that is the greenhouse where they grow fruit cultivated from the old Demaxian homeworld. Down that way is where the edge world diplomats stay, each room climate-controlled to suit the needs of different species. Once, an entire room had to be filled completely with Proto-Shuriman sand for a dignitary to burrow in.
“And over there—oh, wait, this is my room,” the boy says, skidding to a stop. “Hang on.”
The corridor here is so ornate as to be almost overwhelming. Holo-statues flank every door, looking down with stern faces. The door where the boy has stopped is enormous, bigger and more elaborate than the door to the office where Father had met with the Ordinals. Shieda’s eyes go wide as the boy stands in front of the control panel, and the door slides silently open.
Beyond is the biggest bedroom Shieda’s ever been in. The opposite wall is a floor-to-ceiling viewport, open to the stars. He watches as the boy goes to put his data drives on an actual wooden bedside table before sitting down on the tallest, plushest mattress in the whole universe. Katarina breaks into a sprint, leaping into the air and soaring right onto the bed with an impact hard enough to make the boy bounce.
Snickering, the boy shoves at her. He looks at Shieda, beckoning him over with a quick inward sweep of his arm. “C’mon. It’s comfy.”
Shieda approaches slowly, feeling overwhelmed. He puts his stack of drives on the table too, before clambering up next to Katarina and the boy. There’s a cluster of nervousness twisting at the bottom of his stomach.
“I, uh,” Shieda says, picking at his fingernail. “I don’t think I got your name...”
The boy blinks, and his cheeks go slightly pink. “Oh, right, sorry.” He runs his hand through his hair, glancing away with a bashful smile. “My name’s Jarvan.”
Shieda’s entire stomach plummets into the floor. Through the floor, through however many decks are below them, and into the empty void of space. His mouth opens, and then immediately snaps shut. This is the Prince. The boy with the bright blue eyes and huge smile is the Prince. And he’s not supposed to talk to the Prince. He’s been talking to the Prince this whole time, oh gods—
“Are—are you okay, Shieda?” Jarvan asks.
Shieda shakes his head vigorously. He’s not supposed to talk to the Prince he’s not supposed to talk to the Prince he does not have a crush on the Prince because he’s not supposed to talk to the Prince. Katarina shuffles forward, nose wrinkled.
“You’re being weird,” she says, reaching out to slap him. “Stop it.”
Jarvan looks at Katarina, confusion pulling his eyebrows together. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
“Nah,” Katarina says. She rolls her eyes. “Shieda’s just a weirdo. What the klag are you doing, Shie?”
“That’s a bad word!” Shieda gasps before he can stop himself. He slaps his hand over his mouth.
Katarina dissolves into a fit of giggles, but Jarvan still looks confused and a little worried. Shieda doesn’t know how to explain that he’s not supposed to talk to the Prince without actually talking to him. He looks desperately to Katarina, who’s too busy laughing to notice him.
“Do you need to go?” Jarvan asks, fidgeting.
Shieda’s face goes through about six expressions in as many seconds, all of them vaguely nauseated. He gives a weak shrug.
Katarina finally sits up. “Your dad said what, three hours? It’s been like, ten minutes, tops. I don’t wanna go back yet,” she groans, flopping back onto the bed and flailing her arms back. “Jarvan, tell him he doesn’t have to go back yet. And that he’s being dumb and weird.”
Jarvan reaches over and pushes at Katarina’s cheek, but she just rolls over. “Do you need a doctor? I could call someone. Father’s physicians—”
Shieda shakes his head hard enough that his neck hurts. He doesn’t need a doctor. He needs—he actually has no clue what he needs. Father, maybe? Father would know what to do. He needs to not speak, and he probably needs to leave. Leaning so far as to almost fall over, Shieda taps Katarina on the leg.
“Father says I can’t talk to the royal family,” he whispers. “Help.”
Katarina sits up just enough to give him a look that’s vaguely pained by way of profound exasperation.
“Oh,” says Jarvan. He sounds sad, and Shieda hates that. “Is that it?”
Shieda glances at Jarvan guiltily. He looks sad, too. It makes Shieda feel so terrible, deep in his gut, that he wants to throw up. He nods.
Jarvan glances from Katarina and back to Shieda. “I don’t mind you talking to me,” he says, hopeful.
“Father says I can’t,” Shieda says again, and immediately puts his hand back over his mouth. He hesitates, then pulls it off just long enough to add: “Your Highness,” before covering it again.
“He’s not here right now, doofus,” Katarina points out. She puts a hand to her chest. “I won’t tell him, promise.”
Jarvan’s expression brightens, and it makes something twinge in Shieda’s chest. “I won’t either,” he says. “If you want to, I mean. Some people don’t want to.”
And now Jarvan looks sad again. Shieda wonders how many other friends his age the Prince even has. Does he have any, other than Katarina? Is everyone else like Shieda—forbidden from even speaking to him? How lonely is that?
Shieda bites his lip. “Okay,” he says, feeling terribly rebellious all of a sudden.
Jarvan grins, showing off his missing tooth. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Shieda says. He sits up a little straighter. “Yeah!”
Jarvan laughs, a quick, breathless kind of giggle. Shieda never thought princes giggled. He never thought princes gave tours to their subjects, or let their subjects use their beds for trampolines. He’d always imagined the royal family as being so terribly serious, like Father always is. Jarvan—PrinceJarvan—has such an easy smile, and he’d seemed so worried for Shieda when he went quiet.
The Prince isn’t all stern and solemn, or anything like how Shieda had ever pictured. He’s kind, and friendly, and if meeting his eyes makes Shieda’s heart do weird things, then that’s fine, right? Nobody has to know.