A/N: Because of Falling Stars, I've decided I like Blackfire a little too much...
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing related to Teen Titans or the DC universe.
Chapter One
Most fun things in life are forbidden.
Take, for example, the moon diamond sitting just in front of her, protected only by a simple force field and alarm system. It glistened with the gentle tease of a flirtacious smile and yet without the showy flair of other precious gems. She could, if she wanted, simply buy the diamond - with the riches of royalty, she could buy anything. But what would happen if, say, she flicked a small starbolt at the alarm system and pulled the force field apart with her boundless confidence?
The moon diamond assumed its rightful place - around her neck - and showed off her perfect features. It glistened against her flawless skin, while the precise, square edges flirted with her defined jawline.
She quickly realized, however, the only downside to this beautiful accessory - it definitely stood out against the black cloth and silver metal of her armor. Anyone who looked at her was bound to notice it. So, she did the only logical thing: she flew confidently - but quickly - out of the building, winked flirtaciously at each of the guards in turn, and shouted over her shoulder, "Nice doing business with you!"
The guards gave no indication that they suspected anything - but then, it was relatively difficult to get a good reading on them emotionally underneath that helmet. It covered their entire faces! Of course, she knew it was essential to the Centari people; as obligate anaerobes, they could not survive in oxygen-rich environments. And, unfortunately for them, most of the people in this and the neighboring galaxy required osygen to survive. It was lucky for her that Tamaraneans had no such restriction but merely needed a source of light energy that they could harness in an almost photosynthetic manner. Oxygen was nice, of course, since energy transfers tended to leave her weakened, but it was helpful to have an easy escape into the black vacuum of space whenever she needed it.
And she just might need it now.
The blaring alarm drove daggers into her thoughts as the blinding red lights searched for her. Of course, it was a simple matter to access her boundless confidence - she never lost it, really; why should she ever stop feeling confident? - and propel herself into space. Unaided by her transport vessel - using it would only give the Centari something to track her with - she could not quite reach light speeds, but she was close. The simplest escape was the nearest moon, guarded by a mere minefield easily avoided with a simple twist of her slender body.
And what a perfect moon to find! Her thin lips curled into a sinister smile as she surveyed the gleaming city beneath her. The roads glittered with finely crushed gems, and the buildings sparkled in the sunlight. (Of course, this was only in the Cloud City. The face of the moon below was a diamond mine, but since when did she care for anything besides the splendor a princess so richly deserved? Let the masses toil, so long as she got her fill!
"Your Highness?"
The sudden noise startled her; thankfully, it was only her communication device. Had it been an actual person, she might have to kill him out of embarassment. Very few things could surprise her; she was meticulous, cunning, and - above all - royalty. With that in mind, she seized the circular device and watched as a holographic Captain of the Guard flickered into view. "What?" she demanded tersely.
"We lost your signal when you left the moon, Your Highness. Do you wish for us to retrieve you?"
She sighed. In only a month, she would turn eighteen and finally ascend to the throne. Until then, that idiot Galfore still called the shots, and he had some prehistoric notion that the princess must bring guards with her everywhere. She'd managed to give them the slip on the last moon she visited, but they'd apparently found her again. "I'm fine, Captain," she waved him off. "Return to Tamaran; I'll meet you there."
"But the High Regent -"
"I wonder what would happen if you annoyed me up through the day of my coronation?" she asked, striking a thoughtful pose. "I've been thinking about changing up the Royal Guard. Maybe some fresh talent, new leadership . . . ."
"We eagerly await your return to Tamaran, Princess."
She clapped the communication device shut and shoved it back into its pocket. The city below glistened invitingly, and she licked her lips. Without the Royal Guard breathing down her neck, she could easily get into all the trouble she wanted.
Her communication device chirped again, and she picked it up with a sigh. Her idiot little sister. Wonderful.
"Dearest sister, I hope that this transmission finds you in good health. Since I cannot return to Tamaran because of the terms of our surrender to the Gordanians, I eagerly await any transmissions I may receive from you describing our home. Galfore has found the time to explain to me that you are traversing the galaxy at the moment in your last month before your coronation; therefore, I will not press you for any further communication."
It was pitiful the way she sounded so sad, the way she was practically begging for any word of home. Blackfire had hoped the Gordanians would keep her locked up, but the homesick little sister trapped on Earth worked just as well; either way, she got the throne.
"The sights here on Earth never cease to amaze me. For example, there is an activity here called carnival. Robin has promised that I will enjoy it; since his promises have thus far been reliable, I can only assume it will be delightful. He rarely uses words like "enjoyable," as he is somewhat soft-spoken and reserves judgement."
Blackfire smiled wryly. If she remembered correctly, her sister's last transmission told of a Robin who yelled at his teammate and upset him into quitting the team. Her sister spoke of his rashness and his sincere remorse afterwards as if it was a good thing. In Blackfire's opinion, the only thing to be sorry for was . . . well, nevermind. There wasn't a good reason to feel guilty for anything.
And now this Robin character was sweet and kind? Blackfire grinned as she imagined her lovestruck sister. How long would this particular crush last? There was no telling. Blackfire could not attribute it to the damsel-in-distress syndrome; the warrior in her little sister - however small - did not appreciate being rescued. (Although, Blackfire noted with interest, the longer her little sister stayed with the Titans, the softer she became. She did not use fatal starbolt blasts, and she often gave up perfect opportunities to take out the bad guy in favor of allowing one of the other team members to shine. What gremplork.) It was something she supposed she would have to actually see to understand. And, since she had no intention of seeing her little sister ever again, that wasn't going to happen, was it?
"I also experienced my first rain shower here. The rain on Earth is not like on our beloved Tamaran. The deserts on our planet would not allow for so much rainfall! It is like standing in the middle of a fountain - but across the entire affected area! And there is a phenomenon here called lightning and thunder - a buildup of electrical energy in the clouds that discharges. The discharge is what is referred to as lightning, while thunder is the accompanying sound. It is at once a most terrifying and exciting thing."
She cut the transmission off; she would listen to the rest of it later so she could savor the homesick tone in her little sister's voice. Every time she mentioned Tamaran, Starfire's voice sang with bitterness and envy. Music to her ears. She could put up with the stories of the Titans, of Starfire's wonderful life on Earth - how it was so much better than remaining with the Gordanians - as long as she could still revel in that.
As she put away her communicator, she did not bother to watch where she flew - she never did that; people got out of her way of their own accord or suffered the consequences. Unfortunately, some of the people in the Cloud City were apparently unaware of this rule. An insectoid being crashed right into her, and they both stumbled back. She caught herself in the air, but he tumbled to the ground, clicking and spitting in annoyance.
"Watch where you're going, you stupid troq!"
She decked him.
It wasn't just a punch, either. It was a blow to the cut followed by a calm uppercut that ended with a snap as his left mandible ended up hanging awkwardly, barely attached.
It was only after she decked him that she saw the insignia on his chest and recognized him as the ambassador to Centari from the Elar system. Well, she'd wanted to get into trouble, but this wasn't exactly what she imagined.
But she was a princess, and he was only an ambassador. Therefore, there was no need to apologize. Instead, she simply sneered in his face, "Call me that again, and I'll take your exoskeleton off."
Of course, this meant relocating to another moon, since that ambassador would press embarassing charges, and she would rather not have that kind of publicity before her coronation. Her people would support her fully, of course. (In fact, some of the Royal Guard had been known to kill people on the spot for names like that, but she was feeling merciful - merciful in this case meaning less murderous than usual.) In fact, many Tamaraneans would be rather disappointed she didn't finish the ambassador off anyway. The problem was the legal system and the jails in the Centari system. Even if she got off, she'd still be arrested and have to spend a day in that horrid little cell. Those anaerobic creatures hadn't heard of comfort, apparently.
But what was the use of visiting the Cloud City without one last stop - the Red Street? The name was oxymoronic, since the Cyntaxi were colorblind and unable to decorate properly. In fact, most of the street was draped in green. But that wasn't the point. There was the reputation to uphold.
Red Street shimmered with rubies embedded in each building - which helped to further the illusion of "Red Street." The vendors merrily sold their goods outside the doors - but outside wasn't what interested her. It was the indoor happenings.
"Trust me on this one; you don't want that particular building."
The surprise wasn't so much the voice itself, but the fact that it surprised her at all. She fired up a starbolt and fired it without thinking, but he dived out of the way. He fired up his own, blue starbolts and stared at her with defiance in his eyes.
Wow. Hot.
Even as she glared at him suspiciously, she could not help admiring him. With that sculpted physique and the shoulder-length, black hair, she was surprised he did not wear a wedding band around his left arm. Instead, his right was banded, indicating his availability. She powered down her starbolts, toying with a particularly spicy idea involving this handsome Tamaranean, a room in Red Street, and no Royal Guard.
"I am Blackfire, heir to the throne of Tamaran. How dare you approach me?" she demanded. Secretly, of course, she was all for the idea of approaching . . . .
"Yeah, yeah. Your title doesn't impress me," the blue eyes sighed dismissively. "Just saw a fellow troq and figured you'd want to know about places we're not welcome."
Her eyes blazed bright purple at the word "troq," but she realized he meant it sarcastically. A handsome guy with a sense of humor to boot. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. This could potentially be fun. "Well, I've never been very good at rules," she shrugged.
"Me neither," he grinned.
She wasn't quite sure whose idea it was to break down the door, or whose idea it was to hang everybody they could find by their toes - or corresponding body part, should toes not be present. It didn't actually matter. Either way, they had way too much fun doing it.
Outside of the building, they relaxed with their backs against the wall, enjoying the fruits of their spoils. He fingered the various currencies before stuffing them into his pocket, while she admired the freshley stolen moon diamond ring - the perfect accessory to her necklace. (She also had various currencies stuffed in her pockets, but she'd much rather admire something shiny and expensive than those crumpled things.)
"For a pampered palace brat, you're not half bad," he mused as he chewed thoughfully on one of the fresh traf fruits they stole.
"For a klorbag, you're not half bad, either," she grinned easily. It was the constant jabs that made him fun; he wasn't out to impress her. It was a welcome relief from the usual Royal Guard and their overbearing attention.
Not that she didn't absolutely love the attention, mind you. Her day was not complete without someone worshipping her on bended knee, yearning for her to order them to do something just so they could hear her voice. It was one of those familiarity breeds contempt things; she sometimes needed a break from being worshipped as a royal so she could be admired as a warrior.
"We'd better get out of here," he said, suddenly straightening up. She followed his gaze to see two Centari police standing in the streets holding an artist's sketch of her. For a brief moment, she was jealous of the sketch - it looked much better than she did - before she realized it meant even the police thought her beautiful. She was pretty pleased with herself until she looked over to see that the hot Tamaranean boy had left her with nothing but a scribbled frequency - an invitation to keep in touch with him. Well, okay then.
This was still a drawback; it meant the police knew what she looked like. It would only be a matter of time before they made the connection and came after her to Tamaran. That was the problem with the Centari; they loved their ridiculous justice to pieces, and they would go to any lengths to make sure even the smallest of crimes was punished. There could be no redirecting them now.
...Wait.
The Centari were colorblind; she could use this to her advantage. Yes, they knew what she looked like, but there just happened to be a girl who looked exactly like her to the colorblind eyes. This girl just happened to be in the quadrant, too . . . .