It reaches him like a sudden blow to the face.
Quick. Painful, and completely undignified, and leaving him very out of sorts.
He is aboard the Gilded Lady, on his way to a required Event for the Season of the Century, a tedious affair with other Houses of the Glorious Generation, specifically one only Primaries can attend. He is the youngest member to attend, and the other Houses are always eager to point it out. They call him a child, they call him a boy and it is out of sheer jealously, he knows. After all, boy he may be to them, but he is still the Primary to a more prosperous House, a more wealthy House, a more perfect and pinnacle House.
"Lord Balem," said Tskalikin, his deep voice a hiss, and, Balem noted, alarmed.
"Be quick, Tskalikinn," he responds boredly, his voice a rasp.
"A missive has been sent from the Orous Authority of Houses."
Balem blinked. Shifted slightly from his position in front of his vanity where he had been placing the final touches upon his attire.
"What in the Verse could they say to me? Is Titus being made an example of by the government of Orous?"
It didn't happen often. But sometimes Orous liked to take a blow to a House, a weak show of intimidation and a sorry attempt to police them. They had never dared to do so to House Abrasax. As sorry as Titus is as a member of my House, this will not stand.
"No, my Lord. It- A claim of Inheritance has been made to House Abrasax."
What.
Balem could not contain his quick turn around, nor the way his eyes went wide at the announcement.
"Who is the claimant?"
The Sargon kept himself straight, hands behind his back, a feat with his hideous wings.
"Not a claimant. Claimer, my Lord, as it has been accepted. Queen Jupiter Jones of House Abrasax, first of her name, Reoccurrence of Seraphi Abrasax, the new Sovereign of the Glorious Generation has taken her claim and place within House Abrasax."
Balem cannot breathe for a single second.
A Reoccurence.
Mother.
Mother.
"KILL ME BALEM, JUST KILL ME! I HATE MY LIFE!"
"The validity of this claim- WHAT IS IT?!" he bellowed, his throat burning.
The Sargon winced.
"It is an a-hundred-percent match, my Lord. The transmission has been authenticated by our communication expert, and Aegis missives have stated that we are not to trespass upon Queen Jupiter's Holdings until she has made her own assessment of all her Holdings. A list of the Holdings you have been stripped of has been sent."
Balem could barely believe this.
"Find me recordings of her Ascension."
"All known footage of her is in your desk, Sir."
Balem made his way to his desk. Tried not to tremble and failed miserably. And quickly loaded the recording.
The room was full of the horrific dull halls of Orous's Halls. Dull grey, dirty, and… And in the middle of it was a girl in a resplendent white and gold dress. Beautiful and just like I used to favor- Just a child. Barely old enough to claim her inheritance. A wisp of a thing.
But it was his mother.
"LEAVE!" he bellowed, all the while not taking his eyes off of his mother.
He barely heard himself be left alone. Barely felt as he walked to the image of His Mother. Barely felt the rapid beating of his own furious, aching heart. Dark hair. Olive skin with just the barest hint of tan, two eyes of different colors. Pale green and brown. Luminous and assessing. She walked just the same. Pace even and elegant. Her dress was one to impress, worthy of a Queen. Worthy of her. Much too young. Not really his Mother. But… But.
"There you are," he whispered, voice trembling and shaky and so quiet he barely heard it, "There. You. Are."
She was barely old enough to reach the marking desk, had to be given a stool by her Advocate to reach the machine. Balem watched as she tore through the order he had worked so hard to achieve in a single second.
"It's cool," the recording said, sweet, even, his mother. She flashed her Enitled Holding mark behind her.
To her entourage- Balem jumped at the sight of them. Unworthy. A teenage Splice, far too human to be decent, with only her transparent wings denoting her status in her long fiery robes. A Keeper in similar robes. And another Splice in military garb with similar wings. Too human as well. What sort of rabble does my Mother surround herself with?!
"It's very nice," said the teenage splice, beaming.
"I am so sorry," said the man behind the desk, face grim filled face sad.
His mother turned. Smiled. Full and even and calm.
"Whatever for?"
"For the tragedy, your Grace. You were a Terristie. You'll see soon enough."
His mother's smile- it turned cool and perfect and just what it had always been.
"Doesn't matter. Thank you for the condolences. But they won't be necessary."
I miss you, Mother. It was a sudden, ridiculous thought.
But Balem knew it was true.
"Shall we, Majesty?" said the male splice. Balem thought he looked familiar. But he could not place him-
"I suppose my Holdings won't inspect themselves. Thank you, Sir Seal and Signet Minister, you have made my Ascendance a delight."
She descended from her stool. Small and dainty boots barely making a sound. The teenage splice and Keeper walked forward to help her with her long train. She didn't even look back to them as they did so. She regally gave a nod to her Advocate.
"Advocate Bob you have done well in my Ascension. Coordinates to the shipyard with my ship, The Red Hawk will be available if you need to send me any additional information."
The Red Hawk.
His Mother's mobile Alcazar. He had been trying for years to acquire it, desperately trying to contest her will to make it available to him.
She has cut my inheritance. Reduced our ability in the Market by cutting off access to the Refinery- SHE OWNS THE EARTH. What if she sees it again? What if she goes mad again?!
"Kill me Balem, Just kill me! I HATE MY LIFE!"
I don't want to, Mother. But I will. You are in the way again.
"I am sorry, Mother," he whispered, gently, "But there can only be one of us. And you have gone once before."