He had fucked up. Undeniably.
He'd let his anger about something entirely different get the best of him and took it out on Melia. And it wasn't simply a fit of anger that could be easily dismissed. No, it was something greater and she knew it.
That had pushed her away. In a single flash, all warmth from her had evaporated, replaced by a cold formality. Her departure had left him bereft, though he realized too little too late.
He needed to apologize. But she was back in Alcamoth.
Dunban knew he could ask Tyrea to use her communicator to talk with the princess. He didn't need Fiora to tell him that that was not an appropriate means of communication for an apology. However, he was at a loss of what else to do.
"Why did you do it?" Fiora asked in a small voice.
"What?" He replied, indifferent.
"You know."
He averted his eyes, instead choosing to look at the stump where his arm used to be. Upon returning to NLA the previous day, he'd spoken with Linada about getting a new cybernetic arm. She told him the repair would take a week - to his distaste - after a trip to the clinic, where his injury was tended to.
Though his insides burned red, he maintained a cool neutral exterior. There was little to no point of illustrating how...personally affecting his injury was. Just like he was forced to when the injury first happened, he chose to don a cape that would hide it even though by now all of NLA was aware he was crippled.
"Dunban."
Sighing, he met his sister's gaze across the dining table. They hadn't spoken since returning to NLA — he'd avoided her at every turn. But she'd insisted on dinner that evening and he knew that saying no would only make things worse.
But he wasn't hungry. And the soup and sandwich on his plate that Fiora graciously made was getting cold (he knew she was trying to get him to open up by making him comfort food in the form of grilled cheese and tomato soup— a childhood steeple). His sister hadn't touched her food either.
"We don't need to discuss this. I know I shouldn't have taken my anger out on Melia."
"Duh. I still want to know why you did it. I mean you get angry with me but you've never been angry like that."
Because he'd never let her see it. He'd never let anyone see except Elma and Vanea. The latter he sincerely regretted. It made Vanea feel special; she believed she was one of the only people who understood his pain.
It was not the case. She was too gentle. Too kind. Too forgiving.
Elma, on the other hand, was too practical and logical.
And so the single instance in which he revealed the depth of his rage to either remained that way. A single instance never to be shared again.
"Fiora, I will apologize to her when I'm able." He tapped his fingers on the table.
"Stop evading the question." She narrowed her eyes. Persistent as always. "So what if she saw your arm? It's not like she's going to think less of you."
"It's not that."
Fiora raised her eyebrows. It had been a pathetic attempt at a lie. Of course, it was that in part. The last thing he wanted was for Melia to perceive him as weak. The loss of an arm would no doubt do that.
"Can't you just be real with me?" Fiora threw her hands up in exasperation. "I can't tell what you're thinking or feeling at all. You just look tired."
"Because I am."
"But that's not all. And don't lie to me again because I won't speak to you if you do."
He had to smile despite the seriousness painted on her face. He was reminded of the countless times she'd made similar, less serious threats growing up. Once it was a demand for a stuffed animal for her sixth birthday. Another time for a permission slip to go on an overnight class trip at fourteen.
Now, almost a decade later, it was entirely different. The smile it fell from his lips as he considered her demand. The burning rage had been locked away once more, replaced by a despondency during his conversation with Linada. And he wanted to be closer to his sister. Maybe this was his chance.
"You remember when I received this injury." He cleared his throat.
"Protecting the White Whale from the surprise attack from the Ganglion." She responded, all frustration evaporating, eyes wide in rapt attention.
"Yes." He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Memories flooded his mind. Sitting in his skell; dodging gunfire and lasers; shouting over airwaves to those in his unit; watching them get picked off one by one by the Ganglion.
"It wasn't your fault, Dunban." Fiora appealed. "You were—they had more people—it was lucky you got out alive."
"No, Fiora. I failed them. They all died."
"But you still saved us."
"From what? We still crashed onto this planet. We are still being hunted by them." His eyes snapped open, boring into hers.
Heat flashed inside him, striking for a split second then disappearing.
"Maybe. But you held them off while we escaped." She argued.
"It was Earth all over again. How many arcs were destroyed? How many millions died?"
"You can't blame yourself for it."
"Not all of it. I blame them."
"I mean...so do I. So does everyone. You're not alone." She leaned forward, this time her voice was soft.
"I'm not explaining this well." Dunban ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenching. Rage bubbled in his core. He needed to calm down.
Taking a deep breath, Dunban tensed his insides, straining every muscle fiber he could imagine.
"I've never hated anything in my life. But when the Ganglion came to Earth, when they pursued us to Mira...it doesn't matter."
Fiora waited, silent.
"I've been a soldier since I was eighteen. I thought I'd seen cruelty in every form. But this was new. Seeing it changed something in me, Fiora. I don't think it'll change back ever." He said, his throat dry.
"So it's a reminder then, the arm." She nodded at the cape.
"Every single day."
"But you hide it really well. How?"
"It's similar to compartmentalizing killing in battle I guess." He shrugged, trying to brush it off. But he knew that comment wasn't something he could brush off.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"To protect you."
Fiora groaned. "Dunban, you can't do that anymore. I mean, I know you still will, but things have changed. I'm not a kid. I'm kind of a soldier. And we're family. You have to let me in." She looked down and stirred her soup, which now was presumably cold.
Surprised, he looked at her, momentarily struck speechless. He'd thought she would have run for the hills with all this discussion of hate and anger and changing him for the worse (he hoped she got that from what he was saying). And yet here she was, still asking him to share things he knew he couldn't share with anyone.
"I'll...think about it."
"Fine." She did her signature eye roll. Always the drama queen.
"Fiora, I can't talk about it all at once. Because when I do it comes out." He sighed.
"And you can't control it?"
"Something like that."
"That's not healthy." Fiora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, twitching her nose back and forth.
"Never said it was."
"You need therapy."
He laughed.
His sister slapped the tabletop. "It's not funny! If you won't talk to me, you have to talk to someone." The young woman leaned forward, her arms crossing, attempting to be intimidating.
He wiped the beginnings of tears from his eyes. "You have to admit, it's a little funny. We all need therapy."
Her frown begrudgingly turned into a grin. "Fair point."
They fell silent, both looking at their food. Fiora swirled her spoon in her bowl once more. Dunban stared at the sandwich. Simultaneously, they moved to eat: she sipped soup while he bit his sandwich.
"So what are you going to do about Melia?" She asked, breaking the silence.
"I don't know."
Fiora put her elbow on the table and dropped her. Her chin into her outstretched palm, brushing away the auburn bangs that fell in front of her eyes. "Yeah, not sure when we are gonna see her again. Tyrea says she hasn't mentioned anything about coming back."
Dunban took another bite, chewing slowly. Not what he wanted to hear. Tyrea had been given the go-ahead to sign a treaty with NLA based on the discussions Melia had. Which had been surprising since the topic of the Lifehold never came up and he remembered it was a non-negotiable point. Was Melia being punished because she had not fulfilled her father's wishes?
"I guess you could apologize via text."
"I would've thought you'd be against that." He raised an eyebrow.
"Usually, yeah. But the longer you leave it, the longer she thinks you don't care. And you so, right?"
He paused, then nodded. Fiora essentially knew of his interest in Melia. No need to pretend otherwise now.
"Can I ask one more thing about…?"
The hesitant voice sliced through his ruminations and brought him back to the present. She gazed at him, a sliver of hesitation in her eyes. "If you'd like."
"The Ganglion was fighting someone else above Earth. If you found out who they were, would you hate them too?"
Dunban's lips pressed into a flat line. The caged rage coiled tightly in his gut.
"Undeniably."
"Your sister has done well. I'm surprised." Soren mused from his chair, absently rapping his index finger on its arm.
Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, bringing a slight warmth to the otherwise cold study. The Emperor lounged at his desk, studying his daughter, who sat across from him, still as a statue.
Melia bit back a reply, digging her nails into the seat cushion. Tyrea was a fire starter, but still very capable. The young woman knew her father was aware of this fact given Tyrea's stellar military record. Clearly, he was trying to get a rise out of the princess.
She would not give it.
"The treaty is signed. I'm surprised you're not more...excited."
"I am tired, father. That is all." She replied mechanically, maintaining a blank stare.
"Certainly." He rose and moved to a cart in the corner of the room. "You've done much travel. And the conflict with that...creature." He spat the last word. "I'm glad you wiped her from the face of this planet. One less enemy to exterminate."
Normally, Melia would be startled by his vitriol even though she'd been privy to it before, but she couldn't summon those feelings. Instead, she had to bite back an answer to point out that they were the ones on the verge of extermination by the Ganglion. But she didn't have Tyrea's constant need to create trouble. Nor did she want to. She just wanted to be left alone.
He took two glasses from the cabinet in the cart and began pouring wine from a glass decanter. "Zain spoke to me about your reluctance to mention the Lifehold in the discussions with the Homs."
Melia blinked. She should be nervous. She'd been waiting for this conversation the last few days since she arrived home. Her father hadn't immediately summoned her after Zain's debrief. That alone should have signified there was some sort of problem, but it had not affected her.
Instead of anxiety twisting her stomach and keeping her nerves on edge, Melia had been exhausted and...depressed. Because of a man.
It was pathetic. She hadn't even known Dunban for that long and here she was, wallowing. Humiliated and hurt. How was this possible?
She wished Tyrea were with her.
Despite the dark clouds that hounded her heart, she had excellently hidden her emotions since her arrival home, constantly excusing herself under the guise of exhaustion from the journey.
Now the young woman was finally in front of her father and knew she needed to defend her choices. But all she truly desired was to sequester herself to her quarters and sleep. Or eat a multitude of cream puffs and sleep. The order didn't particularly matter.
To be fair, Melia's energy was depleted from the fight with Goetia, which is why the excuse of fatigue was so believable. She had used a great amount of ether, more than she was normally used to, and it sapped her strength physically and emotionally.
Which made the whole...Dunban situation worse.
"Melia?"
The gravely voice reminded her of her present reality. "Apologies, father." She took the glass he held out to her. "Thank you."
"Zain believed you were stalling." Soren retook his seat and sipped from his glass.
"I was." No point in lying, he already knew the truth. She'd learned from an early age to never lie to her father. "I did not believe it would be a welcomed condition."
Silence filled the air. Goosebumps prickled on the back of her neck as she awaited his judgment. This time, her heartbeat quickened despite her apathy attempting to stomp it out. She sipped her wine.
"You were right. I should not have ordered that."
Melia sputtered, managing to keep the liquid in her mouth.
"Even I can recognize I make mistakes once in a blue moon." He laughed.
When was the last time she'd heard her father laugh? Before the Ganglion destroyed their home? Before his heart had turned to stone because of the systematic annihilation of their people? It was such a foreign sound.
Melia cleared her throat and focused on resuming the conversation. After all, she had to be on her guard. That he admitted a mistake and laughed could only mean something was amiss.
A thought percolated in the back of her head: it was saddening that she felt suspicious of her father. It was disheartening to think she could not trust him.
"That is why you had Tyrea carry out the treaty? You approved of the other measures and decided to strike the Lifehold."
"Yes." He nodded and drank more.
"Then you do not need the Lifehold data?" Starting at the red liquid, she swirled the glass and watched it move.
"No, we still do. But we will follow your instincts and wait to ask once we have an established relationship."
She took a drink, tasting the boldness of the wine with its dry aftertaste. Her father had always the best taste. And if she were going to be interrogated, she may as well enjoy the...perks.
"Father, why do you want it, if I may inquire?" Melia looked him straight on, determined.
"In time, Melia." He sipped. "I have some matters to attend to."
Was he truly going to keep her in the dark? After all the stress his directive created? A flare of anger burst to life in her core. Normally, she would begrudgingly let it go. But now, that would not do. Swallowing, she gathered her courage.
"You were insistent. I would appreciate some insight."
His smile morphed into a strong frown. She could feel the small waves of tension radiate off of him. She bit the inside of her cheek. Had she gone too far?
"I will tell you when I deem it necessary. Now I need to work."
Dismissed.
She drained her glass quickly and rose. "Of course."
The alcohol warmed her stomach as she strode towards the door. Despite the rejection, she felt oddly happy with herself. Never before had she stood up for herself. Even if it hadn't yielded the preferred result. Maybe something good had come out of this entire experience, even if it was only a silver lining.
By the time Melia returned to her quarters after a jaunt through the private Villa gardens, the alcohol had seeped into her blood and she felt a pleasant numbness. Coupled with the exhaustion, it affected her more readily.
At least she wasn't feeling the oppressive gloom that was made of thoughts of Dunban. The buzz was enough to dismiss all unpleasantness at the present moment. And it would be lovely to not feel it for the rest of the night so she ambled over to her liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of ruby port.
KNOCK KNOCK.
She frowned. Who would that be? It was late, close to midnight. Generally, the only one who would intrude at this hour would be Tyrea and she was lamentably not present.
"Come in." The princess called as she poured herself a very large glass.
"I hope you don't mind the late visit," Kallian answered.
Melia heard footsteps enter and the click of the door. She poured him a glass to, but not as large as hers. He had his own stores after all. And she felt like being selfish.
Spinning around she smiled and offered him one. "Not at all. I just returned from a meeting with father."
"So I heard." He graciously accepted the glass.
Gesturing to the sofa, she moved across the room and delicately took a seat. "What brings you here so late?"
"I was summoned by father as well."
"Ah." She took a gulp. "I assume he talked to you about me?"
"More or less," he acquiesced and took a seat in the armchair across from her.
"And? What message do you bring?" She sighed.
"You are to be reinstated to the Roost, should you choose it. Tyrea seems to be thriving in her position as envoy to the Homs and father is, well, pleased." Kallian sipped and placed the glass on the table.
Butterflies swarmed in her chest. Had she heard correctly?
"Father is offering me my position again?"
"Yes. And should another High Entian representative be required to travel to NLA, I will do it. In case you were wondering."
Elation joined with the alcohol and every nerve in her body felt weightless, free from the heaviness that had weighed her down the past three days. She could see her brother. Keep him company, even if it was at somewhat of a distance. She could be there for him.
And she could also distance herself from her father. She didn't trust his praise and his granting her the position was suspicious. But she would not reject it if it meant a chance to remove herself from the line of fire.
Finally, she could further herself from Dunban. Maybe in time completely erase any feelings she had for him. An ache forced her heart to drop in her chest and the bliss wavered, sending a cold shiver up her spine at the thought.
No, she wouldn't be disappointed. Melia wanted to be happy and returning to the roost would do just that. The young woman wanted space from the constant reality of the Ganglion and the politics of her family and now with the Homs. This was the perfect solution.
"I look forward to it," she smiled.
"There is a condition." Kallian hesitated, glancing away.
Of course, there was. It was her father, after all.
"Father ordered you to go alone."
"Alone?" She repeated. The buzz immediately began to wear off, replaced by a certain dread.
"Yes…" Kallian drank half of his glass, still avoiding Melia's eyes.
Heat flushed upward on her neck and her shoulders tensed. Alone in the wilderness without any companionship. Any protection.
Did her father want to torture her? Scare her into submission all because she had revealed their existence to the Homs?
A fire burst to life within her.
"What kind of test is this?" She leaned forward and hissed.
"I don't—"
"Can he simply understand I learned my lesson?"
"Melia—"
"I don't wish to play his sick games any longer!" She snapped and jumped up, eyes blazing.
The rage spread like a wildfire in her. Did it mean nothing to him that she was his daughter? Was he so determined to have complete domination over every single one of his subjects?
"Melia I need you to calm down," he said gently.
She glared daggers.
"I don't think that's what's happening." Kallian shook his head back and forth, clapping his hands together.
"Then what pray tell dear brother is going on?"
"He's taking you through the trials." He whispered.
She stopped pacing. Everything in her froze, time stopping the conflagration of fury that ripped through her.
"What?"
"There is no tomb of the ancestors to prove if you are ready to take hold of the empire should you need to do so. I think this is his intention, using limited resources." Kallian lay back onto the couch, covering his face with a hand.
"But Ellison is the heir. Then you. I am last."
"I don't know, Melia. Something is happening but he hasn't confided in me."
"It doesn't make any sense." Melia frowned and dropped back onto the couch.
Did this have to do with her father's desire for the lifehold's data? Or the Ganglion? Did he have little faith of finding a way to turn Ellison back into a High Entia?
"You will be stationed there for 30 days."
A month in isolation. A month to survive.
"You will take your communicator should anything dire happen."
"How kind." Melia spat, the angry flames stoked once more.
"I know it doesn't seem like it, but I think he wants to make you stronger." Kallian sat up.
"If that is what he wishes, then so be it. Who am I to deny his divine will?"
"Sister—" He reached out to hold her hand.
Melia snatched it away and stood, crossing towards the window. "Don't Kallian, don't. I wish to be alone."
"I don't want to leave you like this."
"It's not your choice. Good. Night."
She heard a sigh, then retreating footsteps and finally the opening and closing of her door.
Groaning, Melia leaned her forehead against the window, taking in the coolness of the glass.
It was absurd, sending her into the wilderness alone. To test her? Her brother was fooling himself if he believed her father was actually considering Melia to be an heir. He just wanted to teach her not to defy him. And leaving her to fend for herself amongst the dangers of the fairly unknown wilderness was his solution. Scare her into submission with almost certain death.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
"What?!" She spun around. Her eyes zeroed in on a blinking red light emitting from her communicator. She'd purposely stuffed it underneath her cloak to prevent herself from constantly checking it on the first day back.
Scowling, she ripped her communicator out from under the cloak.
She looked at the screen. A message from Tyrea. Relieved, Melia considered telling her sister the news. Tyrea would phone her and they could together shout about it. But the rational side of Melia's conscience won out. It'd be better to share the news when she was already out at the roost. That way Tyrea wouldn't storm Alcamoth and behave in a way that would result in her suspension once again. The point of Melia ordering Tyrea to stay in NLA was to keep her out of Soren's grasp. In NLA, she could be free.
Hesitating, Melia opened the message and gasped.
Melia, this is Dunban. I asked Tyrea if I could send you a message. I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. I was...I wish I could say this in person but I don't know when you'll visit NLA again, and I didn't want it to seem I didn't care about what happened. Because I do. I was rude and took my personal problems out on you when you were only concerned about my well-being. I hope you're well and hope to see you soon.
Over and over again she read the message. A surge of emotion, everything from anger to frustration to longing, crashed through her, intermingling. Unable to separate. One confusing amalgam of heartache.
Dunban had apologized. Not how he wished but in the best way he could. She was happy, yet still hurt and furious. She missed him and yet didn't want to.
He was the one person she wanted to see. The one person she couldn't.
Growling, she threw the communicator at the wall. The BANG reverberated off the walls and the communicator broke into three pieces. She didn't care.
She was alone. Undeniably alone.
