Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans, all rights to the owners.

You have no idea how annoying it was trying not to use contractions for a whole chapter, because Starfire doesn't use contractions in speech or internal monologue.


KORI'ANDER

Finding a computer is deceptively simple. I honestly did not realize we had so many in the palace… because I never used them.

I do not do computers, so pardon me for not knowing. I did not care for them before.

As a prince, however, it is very easy for me to commandeer an appropriate computer, and the servants are more than happy to help.

I think they know why I need one. Is it that obvious? Either way, I find what I need with startlingly little effort. It helps that there are oddly few gordanians in the castle to question what I am doing.

Actually, that is quite odd. As an occupying force, you think the gordanians would be all over the castle. I will not complain, but it is certainly strange. I wonder how Kom'ander managed to keep them away.

I do feel odd carrying around a computer though. I know computers on Earth do not work like the ones here on Tamaran. They rely on the internet, and on Tamaran… that does not exist. Data is stored on the computers themselves and transferred in blocky bricks of electronics when it needs to be copied or moved to a different computer.

In some sense it must be a miracle we can operate spaceships considering how low-tech we are compared to a society like Earth which is yet to develop warp travel.

Then again, Tamaranians obtained warp travel from scavenging and reverse-engineering slaver's ships, so you could argue we did not "develop" warp travel so much as we stole it.

I take a moment to pass off the computer to my companions and explain as much as I can, but I have other matters to attend to. I must trust them to work on their own.

Those matters I have to deal with, incidentally, are… clothes. A royal wedding, even one forced under duress from an outside force, requireI must sit and stand through hours of fittings. This is all quite last minute, so a fully tailored outfit is not possible. There simply is not time for something new. Instead we must be satisfied with an old outfit reworked.

I say this as if I care, which I do not. I cannot say I enjoy how elaborate royal weddings tend to be. I have nothing wrong with a bit of ceremony, but royal weddings are simply too much. A single wedding does not need multiple entire days dedicated to speeches and ceremonies and feasts.

Yet, at the same time, we cannot skimp on the extravagencies for risk of offending the Yaemanese or the Emperor, so a highly expensive and flamboyant wedding is mandatory.

It is almost a relief when the fitting is done (for today) and I get to talk to Kom'ander about how the ceremonies will work. This will be gone over again when my wife-to-be is present, but it will help if I am already aware of the plan.

I will spare you the details on that exact subject, because what is of most interest to me is information about the Yaemanese, of which I am almost positive Kom'ander will have. As I have mentioned before, he was always more interested in politics and such. He has likely looked into the Yaemanese since this arrangement was made.

"Brother." I say, after he has explained the closing ceremony in painstaking detail. "I have a question."

"Please don't tell me you didn't understand any of that. X'hal help me…"

"No, that is not it." I say. "You think so lowly of me?"

"Brother, it is no secret you care very little for pageantry." Kom'ander points out. "Were you not the one who fell asleep during the yearly meeting of the dukes?"

"I was twelve, I must remind you. Hardly an age at which I could be expected to focus for so long on something so dull."

"I did."

"You did not find it dull."

"My point exactly." Blackfire says.

"Either way." I say, steering the conversation off that topic. "I recall the ceremonies well enough."

"Oh? So if I were to quiz you-"

"Please do not." I say quickly. Anything but that.

Kom'ander smiles. "What is it then, Kori?"

"I wish to know about my… bride-to-be." I say reluctantly. I dislike admitting she is such a thing aloud. It feels like an admittance of defeat. "I would rather not be surprised upon our first meeting. In fact, any information on the Yaemanese would be most welcome."

"I can only offer so much. It is not as if the Yaemanese are frequently visited by outsiders, nor do they leave their planet all that much. There is very little information on them because of that." Kom'ander admits.

"I see."

"I have been trying to gather information despite that, and despite the lack of trade and people coming in and out of Tamaran at this moment that are not gordanian, but rumors and traveller logs are not the most unbiased accounts ever." Kom'ander says. "I have all the soldiers and servants listening for information from the gordanians. Even those unreliable rumors are better than nothing. However, concerning the Yaemanese… so far everything points to them being fanatics. I have not found a single account that does not cast them as such."

How reassuring.

"Also, I cannot give you much on Princess Thaernun." Kom'ander says. "All I know is that she travels quite a bit around her planet. Beyond that, I have little I can offer."

"Thank you nonetheless." I sigh. This will certainly be something to tell the others. The situation is just as bad as we assumed it would be.

###

I do not see much of the other Titans for the next few days. I presume they are off investigating something.

Just as well, because I am quite busy with my responsibilities… and by that I mean the monotony and tedium of memorizing formalities and ceremonies, and dealing with a dozen issues surrounding the organization of said ceremonies and the wedding and the feast and-

It is quite boring. It is also frustrating, as I have precious little time to do any investigation of my own. I am far too occupied. That means when we receive news of the Yaemanese arriving, I have very little information to offer the other Titans.

Me and my brother have a brief debate about whether the Titans should come with us to greet the Yaemanese, and we eventually agree that Robyn and Cyborg can come, but it might be in our best interests to leave out Mumbo and Kid Flash.

Especially Kid Flash. We do not need our first impression to the Yaemenese being Kid Flash flirting with the King or the Princess.

That is not what we tell her of course. We tell Kid Flash and Mumbo that it might be seen as rude to bring too many "outsiders", so bringing only Robyn and Cyborg is a matter of safety.

That is not entirely a lie, but certainly not the true grounds for not wanting them there. Mumbo smiles knowingly when we explain- I think she understands the real reason- while Kid Flash complains and Robyn berates her.

Yaemanese ships are quite a sight. Gordanian ships are a mish-mash of various styles and origins, creating a near-incoherent jumble of ships only identifiable by similar color schemes. Yaemanese ships, by contrast, are uniform. Uniformly in that every single one of them, even the diplomatic shuttle, has a giant spike on the front of it that I seriously doubt has an actual purpose unless it is for intimidation or ramming.

Ramming with a spaceship, let me remind you. I hope I do not have to tell you how impractical that is.

The ships are painted red and white and have a very sharp, triangular design with white making up the center parts of each ship and red adoring the points like blood at the end of a spear.

Assuming they have red blood, that is.

The shuttle lands on the landing pad as the escort fighters circle overhead. I cannot help but notice that no gordanian ships followed them down.

Then again, from what Kom'ander has mentioned over the last few days, I have gotten the impression that even the gordanians are wary of the Yaemanese. I do not mean the gordanians respect them, I mean the gordanians think they are crazy.

And if the notorious slavers, raiders, and warmongers think they are crazy, I am inclined to believe it.

The side of the shuttle opens, and a heavy metal ramp smacks down onto the stone landing. the soldiers around me stiffen a bit, and Kom'ander takes a deep, quiet breath in through his nose and exhales. My hand instinctively clenches, a small spark of a starbolt manifests in my palm before I snuff it out.

Eight figures walk out of the shuttle. Three of them are obviously the royals, and five of them are soldiers.

The king is surprisingly short. He is about Robyn's height with straight grey skin, hair, and eyes (the yaemanese are similar to excelians in that their eyes are an orb of one single colour, rather than having visible pupils, irisies, and sclera like humans or tamaranians). He has a hard face, powerful muscles that are fully on display due to an open robe-like red garment, a large scar that goes from his left ear all the way down to his waist, and an odd assortment of decorations around his neck that include several metal tubes and what looks like a spearhead.

An odd choice of decoration to say the least.

The queen is the opposite of her husband. She is quite tall. About as tall as Cyborg in fact. Her face is sharp, as is her red dress. While it is nowhere near as revealing as her husband's garb, in fact it is not revealing at all, almost every inch of it is covered in downward-facing metal spikes. She has pitch black skin with the contrast of stark white eyes and hair. She too has a scar, one that clearly traces and defines her hairline.

Princess Thaernun is, of course, of the most interest to me. She is a mirror to her mother, having snow white skin and completely black eyes and hair. Scarring is conspicuously absent from her skin, unlike her parents and indeed all the soldiers who have some visible scar (quite a few in the case of the soldiers). Like her father, she has opted for something showing a bit more skin, though that is a rather deceptive statement. Yes, she is wearing what humans would call a black tube top and a black floor-length loincloth, but linked chains fill in that empty space around her lower body, and she wears a number of much larger chains around her stomach, with small chains around her wrists and neck. It is a very distinct look; and distinct even from the rest of her family and soldiers who tend towards the spiky look.

Kom'ander starts the conversation… in a language I cannot understand. Yaemanese I presume. I learned a few phrases over the last few days, but I am going to need lip contact from a native speaker to acquire it properly.

Sadly, tamaranian language acquisition does not simply absorb all languages known by the target. It only takes their native languages, those which are "instinctive" so to speak. Hence why I could not acquire the language from my brother. I have to wonder when my brother obtained the language though, unless he spent time learning it the slow way.

A conversation ensues between Kom'ander and the queen (who speaks in a grave, serious tone) which I absolutely cannot follow. I can tell greetings are exchanged, but beyond that it is complete gibberish to me.

This must be how the Titans felt the last few days. At least they can translate with a computer.

I am silently relieved that I do not have to speak, because I have had less than a week of learning their language and do not want to mess something up. Besides, I have skill in standing still and looking important. It is the core skill of any military.

That is sarcasm. Mostly. It is a core skill, not the core skill.

That only lasts so long however. Kom'ander gestures to me and says something (not at me, at the queen) and the queen nods and pins me with an intense, serious gaze. I return the look, schooling my own expression to something appropriately regal but not hostile.

X'hal, I hate politics. In the military I only had to keep my expression neutral, but with politics it is all about small shifts in expression and twitches of the hand or eye. It is frustrating.

The queen turns to the princess, and says something in a questioning tone. The princess nods calmly, and meets my gaze with an inscrutable… no… blank expression. She then strides towards me. My guards grip their spears more tightly, but I make a sign with my hand behind my back and they clam. Robyn and Cyborg watch cautiously.

Princess Thaernun stops in front of me, holding my gaze in what feels like a staring contest. She is shorter than me, approximating her father's height in fact, so I have to look down to meet her gaze. Her mono-colored eyes are slightly unnerving. I cannot truly see where she is looking without a pupil or some distinct parts to signify the exact location of her gaze. For all I know she is looking at my forehead while I stare at her eyes. Then again, Kima has the same sort of eyes, but she is not nearly so unnerving. Perhaps it is the utter lack of any movement in Thaernun. She looks like she is in a trance. Kima, if nothing else, always communicated with her tentacles.

The chains around her wrists abruptly spring to life- I had momentarily forgotten about yaemanese ferrokinesis- and wrap around my head and pull me towards her. My lips are pulled against hers for a full second before I remember that I should try to absorb her language, and I do so while she continues to stare blankly, as if this interaction holds no significance for her.

I am released from the chains after a few seconds. I suspect I must look slightly surprised, but Thaernun shows no sign that anything happened at all.

"Greetings." She says quietly, slowly. Her voice sounds dull, almost droning, but more breathy. It is a very peculiar way of speaking. She is also speaking in Tamaranian rather than Yaemanese, immediately showing that me assimilating her language was actually unnecessary, and hence the kiss was unnecessary. What was the point then? "General."

So she knows I am a general, and chose to refer to me as such instead of as a prince or her betrothed. Curious. "Greetings Princess."

"I would speak in my language, but I presume your companions would not understand it." She says calmly, and motions to Robyn and Cyborg.

"Yes." I admit. "My thanks."

"However, it will still be useful for you to know my language."

"Yes, of course." That answers why the kiss happened at all.

"I don't presume I broke any conventions by doing so?"

"Not that I am aware of, no." Kom'ander did not cover being kissed before we have even been properly introduced.

"Unfortunate. The shame would have been wonderful to experience." Thaernun says, as if that is a totally normal thing to say. "Would you mind slapping me?"

I stare at her in utter confusion, as do the other Titans and the guards. The other yaemanese do not seem surprised at all. "No, I will not."

"Ah." The princess says. She gazes at the Titans and my guards, then raises her hands to the sky rapturously. In her own language, she says: "There is my shame."

"Gloriously." All the yaemanese guards murmur in unison, and sharply tap their foreheads with the hilts of their weapons, sometimes leaving a noticeable mark.

I can see why even the gordanians think they are crazy. I do not know if I hope that this shame fetish is exclusive to the princess and the guards, or if it is normal for most yaemanese. Both possibilities are unnerving for different reasons.

Even Kom'ander seems to be at a loss for words, so silence takes over the scene for a few seconds until the queen speaks, also in Tamaranian. "We should move inside. As much I revel in the pain of bitter cold, I am aware you tamaranians are less fond of it."

"Yes, of course. Let us move this elsewhere." Kom'ander says.

As we walk inside, Kom'ander motions for me to walk beside him, then says (in English, so the yaemanese cannot understand us), "We must be cautious brother. They have taken control of every conversation thus far."

"I had not noticed."

"We spent the entire time answering questions or agreeing with them. We did not take the lead." Kom'ander says. "We must not let ourselves be pushed about in our own home."

Upon reflection, what he is saying is true. "Understood. What are we to do about their… erm… peculiar fascinations?"

"I have no idea." Kom'ander admits. "Try not to react to it, I suppose."

I can manage that. "As you say."

"And for X'hal's sake, do not allow the princess to manhandle you again."

Manhandle is a bit of an exaggeration, but I know what he means. I can feel a trickle of embarrassment when he mentions it though. "Alright."

I can see Robyn staring at me intensely out of the corner of my eye as I talk with my brother. Cyborg is hiding a smile. I personally do not see what is so amusing about all of this.

As we approach the dining room, Kom'ander stops to whisper to a servant who says something back, and my brother frowns and turns to the rest of us. "It seems we are to delay our welcoming feast. Another… guest… will be joining us in an hour. He arrived earlier than expected."

"Who?" I ask, though I have a vague feeling I know what he is going to say.

"Why, who else but our esteemed overlord." Kom'ander says with as much sarcasm as his loyalty curse will allow him to voice. "The Emperor shall join us."

My lips instinctively curl back in a sneer before I can school myself, and I can see Thaernun's brow furrow for a split-second before she raises her hands again and murmurs thanks for more opportunities for humiliation and humbling. The king and queen do not show that split-second of annoyance, and instead smile and hold the spearhead and a spike respectively up to their heads in some sort of prayer. Their guards follow suit.

"Let us move to the lounge for a while then." Kom'ander suggests. I know we did not have the lounge prepared, so this is very last-minute. "Brother, would you mind ensuring the lounge is adequately set up? For the sake of your future wife, of course."

An excuse for sending me on a menial task that would otherwise be below my station to do. I have the distinct impression he wishes to give me time to talk strategy with the Titans out of earshot of the yaemanese. "Of course. Robyn, Cyborg, with me."

"I will accompany you as well." Thaernun announces, surprising just about everyone. She is absolutely not adhering to any sort of decorum with such a suggestion.

"I-" Kom'ander blinks in surprise. "It would not be proper to ask a guest to check on-"

"So much the better; I can be shamed for impropriety." Thaernun says. An uncanny smile crosses her face at the thought, and she strides forward and grabs my arm unprompted. "Let us be off, General."

"Your guards at least-" Kom'ander tries to say, but Thaernun waves her men away as she pulls me down the hallway.

"I must be alone, surrounded by strange eyes and foreign judgments! Imagine the embarrassment!" Thaernun says with awe in her voice. "No need for guards! All the better to feel fear! Besides, I am quite capable of my own protection if need truly be."

Kom'ander looks at me helplessly, and all I can do is nod and pretend that this is not making the situation infinitely more complicated. "I can manage Kom'ander. Besides, what other chance would I have to speak with her without prying ears?"

That is a complete lie. I am only trying to salvage our dignity at this point. Kom'ander takes the out however, and agrees. Robyn and Cyborg fall in next to me when I and Thaernun leave, and no one raises a complaint.

The instant we round a corner and are out of eyesight of the group, Thaernun's whole demeanor changes. Gone is her trance-like expression, slow walk, and hands extended towards the sky. Instead she appears very… normal.

"Greetings again." Thaernun says quietly, after we have moved a few hallways away. "Pardon for the show, but my position demands a certain level of performance."

"I… see." I say. How often is Thaernun going to keep catching me off guard?

"The shame fetish is part of the performance?" Robyn asks bluntly, and I feel like saying "Robyn, do not be rude, she is still a foreign dignitary".

Thankfully, Thaernun does not seem offended. "Indeed. I presume you are not familiar with yaemanese culture?"

"Not in the slightest." Robyn says.

"Well, for the short version as we do not have much time, a major cultural cornerstone of our people is the acceptance and glorification of suffering in all forms, physical and emotional. Shame is considered emotional suffering. I can explain more at some other point. All you need to know at the moment is that I need to match that expectation around my people outside of my parents, even around our personal guards. This performance must go on, so pardon me if I lapse into it to maintain cover. I understand by tamaranean standards such behaviour is… bizarre."

"Well-" I am about to say it is not, to be polite, but that is such a flagrant lie that I cannot bring myself to finish it. "Yes, it is."

"In addition, the illusion must be maintained in front of your brother." Thaernun adds. My suspicion is raised, justifiably so I think, and she explains further. "Your brother has the loyalty curse placed on him, yes?"

"Yes."

"So anything mentioned to him can feasibly make its way back to the Emperor." Thaernun says. "I need to maintain my illusion of fanaticism in front of the emperor to avoid rousing his suspicion. My parents maintain the same act."

"I see." I murmur. How unexpected. "You are not fond of the Emperor either?"

"Of course." She scoffs. "My people may glorify our oppression and revel in the suffering as something beautifully awful, but as their leaders my family is well aware of how dangerous an overlord the gordanian Emperor is, and how crippling it could be to our kingdom."

"Good." I say with a bit more force than I intended. I am simply relieved she is rational. "Are you and your parents not under the loyalty curse?"

"My parents were… for a few hours." Thaernun says with a sharp smile. "Unfortunately, my people are intimately familiar with brands and runes, and so we broke the curse before the day was over."

"Could you do the same for my brother?" I ask, with perhaps a bit too much eagerness.

"We could." Thaernun says slowly. "However, what is to stop him from being branded and cursed again?"

"Pardon?"

"My people are seen as crazed, fanatical masochists." Thaernun says bluntly. "My parents bluffed the Emperor into thinking they enjoyed the act of being branded and broke the curse to experience the pain again, hence why the Emperor didn't bother to try again and our people avoided punishment because how can you punish a people who glorify pain and loss? Can your brother say the same thing? If the curse of his loyalty brand were to be broken, does he have a way to avoid punishment? To avoid punishment to your people?"

"No." I say reluctantly. The words are acid on my tongue. I am admitting my brother cannot be freed despite the yaemanese having the necessary expertise to do so. It feels like an admission of weakness, of loss. "No he does not."

"And so, for his safety and that of the tamaranian people, he cannot be freed at this moment." Thaernun murmurs. "I hope you know I say this not out of malice."

"I know."

"Yet, you are angry."

"Not at you."

"Hmm…" Her eyes flick to Robyn and Cyborg. "A question."

"Yes?"

"Your companions… who are they and where are they from?"

"They are Robyn and Cyborg, humans from Earth."

"Earth?"

"Part of the Sol system in sector 2814. There are two others here as well, also human. They can be trusted."

"I see." Thaernun nods to Robyn and Cyborg. "Let us work together towards the Emperor's defeat then. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Robyn says with a hard edge to her voice. I wonder why.

"Definitely." Cyborg nods.

"Good. We are in agreement then." Thaernun says. We round another corner and arrive at the lounge. "We shall speak some other time. I expect the others will be along soon."

She is not wrong. Within two minutes my brother, her parents, and the guards arrive. Thaernun slips back into her act, and I have to remember to play along with all the necessary social niceties.

It is a struggle not to mentally ponder what could become of our tenuous alliance. One of the big problems me and Robyn agreed upon was the lack of forces to keep a new emperor at bay should we kill the current one, but if we can get the yaemenese our side… there may be a chance.

Though, I must say, I am unsure if this tenuous new alliance can be leveraged in such a short amount of time, and I have no idea if they are even willing to offer military aid. In addition, I have only spoken with the Princess and not the king and queen who are presumably of greater actual power.

I will need to talk with the king and queen when possible then. In the meantime, I need only play my part as a royal, and bear with the Emperor's arrival.

It is not much of a plan, but it is far more than we had before.


It feels like it's been a while since I did a chapter entirely from one character's perspective, though it's only been six chapters which isn't that long ago.


Origami Stars: I mean, if Star is going to put her in danger, he might as well be polite about it.

I've gotten so much more mileage out of Mumbo than I ever expected to when I first wrote her.

:D

TREBOR.E: That's a really hard question actually. I'd probably have to say Crow, though Changeling is a close second.

iHateFridays: Whaaat? Worried? He's only being forced into an arranged marriage by a half-demon tyrant for the sole purpose of spiting him. What's there to be worried about?

Azarath Cat: Crow and Changeling are just so good. I have way too much material for them. I feel like I'm finally getting to flesh out Starfire here. He rarely gets any spotlight.