When she signed off for the night, the first thing Shayera saw as she left the base was seeing members of the brown clad Hark'nvesh (or Harksh) descend down after a long day of flight exercises. Their bronze-cased wings glinting in the setting sun as Mayiah Tavo and her brother Ohur Han touched down gracefully.
Aside from the Admiral's Black Guard, the Hark'nvesh were the elite. Named after the giant hawks that once nested in Thanagar's mountains; driven to extinction when one scientist's experimentation created the Manhawks. All soldiers flew in the air, but the Harksh exclusively took their battles to the sky. Engaging in acrobatic and death-defying stunts as they fought their enemies in the sky.
"Who is up for drinks at the Delphi?" Ohur asked.
"I'm up for one," Shayera had answered. She was in the mood for a drink (and maybe pack a punch or two in a brawl).
"You're always up for one," Mayiah pointed out, wrapping her arms around both Shayera's and her brother's shoulders. "Funny thing? Aren't you and Commander Talak supposed to be getting ready for that four day leave trip?"
At that, Shayera bit her lip. "Oh, about that." She sighed. "His grandfather invited Admiral Pom and her family for dinner."
It seemed what they knew she meant by that.
"Oh, Javat Pom and Lord Lelkae want to bring them back together?" Mayiah asked, and Shayera hoped that it wasn't a glimmer of joy she was seeing in her dark eyes. Of course, she'd want them back together even if she had nothing bad to say about Hro currently being with her. Not surprising as Corla and Mayiah grew up together in one of the floating cities.
"Tough luck," said Ohur. "Commander Talak does come from a family that sticks with the old way of doing Promises. Back when the only way one could be Promised was by the fathers of both parties signing a agreement."
"I mean, we can't always get what we want," said Mayiah. "Sometimes the ones we want to spend our life with are destined to be with someone else."
"Not helping, May," Ohur chided as Shayera could feel the heat licking in her throat. "Not helping."
Shayera was beginning to think that she should have taken her dinner to one of the military kitchens instead and confide in Domet about her feelings. Though that wouldn't be tactful. Her concern of her boyfriend getting Promised to their mutual friend (who was also his ex-partner) would be miniscule compared to his unease of knowing that he'd be dumped back to the Downside when he was no longer useful as a cook.
The Delphi was one of the bars located in Thanaldar. This bar in particular frequented by the soldiers of Thanagar's Imperial Forces. It would not be unusual for someone to be sitting drinking and talking with friends one moment to throwing a punch at the nearest person the next.
When Shayera, Mayiah, and Ohur arrived, a fight hadn't broken out yet, but that didn't mean that Shayera couldn't feel some of that tension in the air. That a fight could break out in the next few minutes, and as always, Shayera will be glad to partake.
There was no sense in getting a drink if one didn't throw a punch. She didn't care if her arm was healing.
The three of them spotted Tarkoll Adur, Phyla Vell, Zoq'u Balos, and Nal Darian sitting at one of the tables near the wall.
"Hey, Shay, what's got your feathers in a knot?" Tark asked her with a wry smile as Ohur motioned for their table to get more drinks.
Mayiah opened her mouth –
"It's not one I want to answer," Shayera bluntly put it.
"Does it have to do with the fact that you and Commander Talak aren't preparing for that trip?" Phyla asked her. She pretended not to notice Tark's feathers bristling at that.
"Maybe it's good that he isn't here, because my brother here might probably kill him," Nal vocalizes, gesturing to one of the tables on the other end of the bar. Corporal Andar was sitting at a table with Kragger and a few of their friends. She didn't miss that his eyes were glancing towards the door every so often as if he was expecting someone.
"This morning, Andar went to visit Javat Pom to see if he could be Promised to Corla." The Off-world attendant hands them their drinks. "Javat Pom told him that he had another candidate to Promise her too. To come back later in the off-chance nothing went well."
"Why would Fel want Corla?" Mayiah asked as Shayera takes a swig from her mug. "There are other women he could wish himself to be Promised to."
"Why wouldn't someone like him want to be Promised to the Admiral's daughter," Ohur asked. "Being attached to her, people might forget the question of his heritage."
"This wasn't the first time he was rejected for a Promise," Nal made known. "No man wants their daughter to marry one with what they call diluted blood."
Shayera did hear some rumors when Andar Nal came back from a mission with a baby boy. Confirmed when she read his dossier to study as she was ascending the ranks. Andar Nal came to Earth to study it's resources when he met and married a human woman. Who he mindwiped after being called back to Thanagar. The boy had to carry his father's first name as his last due to the illegitimacy. Though he was able to live with his father despite that illegitimate children, both boys and girls, get dumped to the Downside after birth.
It was one thing to be illegitimate. It was another to be diluted with the bloodline of an inferior species.
"Fel Andar aside," Shayera takes a swig of her drink. Pauses to belch for a moment before continuing, "he's not the only one to want to be Promised to Corla."
Any thoughts that might follow evaporate the moment they hear the beginning of a fight break out in one part of the bar.
"About time," Phyla beamed. Not hesitating to grab her chair and hitting one of the soldiers over the head in it. Shayera took one last swig of her drink before setting down her mug and joining in on the action. Grinning as her fist connected with the person nearest to her.
It took perhaps nearly a hour before everyone else but Shayera and Tark were knocked unconscious.
"You know, you could kill her tonight before you and the Commander set out for Aloria," Tark suggested as she'd take a last swig of her drink. "Bash her head in with that mace of yours and toss her out her bedroom window."
Shayera knew that she could. That she could easily make an attempt on Corla's life herself to ensure that she didn't lose Hro. After all, she shouldn't be moping about this anyway when there was a more important conflict on their plate. However, it would be easier said than done. There would be no satisfaction in killing someone like Corla.
She wasn't that vindictive.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but what good will that do?" Shayera pointed out.
Tarkoll shrugs. "Just trying to give you a suggestion. Just so you don't pine after someone who most likely won't look your way after High Lord Lelkae signs that contract with Province Councilor Pom."
Had this been a few years ago before she and Hro took their relationship further than just a commanding officer and his subordinate, she would have been heavily tempted to find comfort in Tarkoll Adur. After all, the two of them were more than friends at some point during the early days of their service in the Armada. There were sometimes where she could feel him gazing at her like Corla does Hro.
Had this been all Hro and not his grandfather ensuring his grandson married another Upside-bred warrior, she'd probably be thinking of sleeping with Tarkoll out of spite the moment she'd see Corla sport those white orbs Promised women wear on their ears.
While others reacted violently at their partner being with another person, the other portion of the population apparently didn't let it bother them considering the war on their plate. Shayera hoped to be the latter.
"Again, it would do no good," she repeated. "Not when there is a enemy worth more of killing. I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world. I'll probably get over it soon."
I might be their guest of honor at their Uniting Ceremony, she thinks silently. Though by then, she hoped to be not pining after him. To not feel that disappointment she felt earlier when Hro told her about his impending dinner with Corla. Even if seeing Corla's yearning for Hro once in a while and feeling Tarkoll's yearning for herself once in a while tells her otherwise.
Hours later, she returns to her spire. Bruised and bandaged armed throbbing as she packs for the trip tomorrow. The nightly news cast as background noise. Collapsing on her side on the bed not long afterward. She didn't know how long it was until she felt Hro's arms wrap around her waist, and she leans to his shoulder. Feeling his hand move to stroke her hair.
Hro did not spend long at his grandfather's spire. Usually, after pre-Promise dinners, the two parties would talk over Polaran wine (Thal's favorite, he observed). Hro didn't feel the need to. For one, he knew Corla already. Second, he had a trip to prepare for.
Though it didn't help that he had felt her sea green eyes staring at his back while he departed. Even if he couldn't refuse his grandfather's invitation for this dinner, there was a voice that scolded him for leading her on with his attendance. He had a feeling that she might have feelings for him again.
He takes the lift to take him directly to his and Shayera's quarters after returning to the spire they share with her grandfather. Smiling as he noticed her sprawled on the bed. Fiery red strands over her face as she slept. And he didn't miss the sight of bruises as if she had partaken in one of those bar brawls.
Oh, how she never let a injury hold her back.
It didn't take long for him to pack, as they will only be gone from Thanagar for four days. He hastily changed into his nightwear; wrapping his arm around her waist when he joined her in bed. Her hair felt like silken strands as he began stroking it when she laid her head on his shoulder.
One was to never take these peaceful moments for granted. One never knows how soon they could be on the battlefield.
It must have been a few hours before he could hear his message board ping.
Yob shiggurath. What now?
Hro carefully disentangles himself from the sleeping woman next to him before retrieving his scroll from the side of his bed.
Hopefully you have time before you leave. There's something interesting I want to show you at analytics. Room 4B – Commander P. Corsar.
Room 4B. The room where intelligence officers – and anyone the Imperial Forces capture – are connected to a Absorbacron to give any information for future use in espionage.
It was sixty-two minutes past the thirty-fifth hour. He and Shayera had four and a half hours to be transported to Aloria. Whatever Porvis wanted to show him, he wasn't going to linger too long.
He quickly changes into his uniform and is putting on his helmet when Shay groans, "Hro?"
"Porvis says he has to show me something at base," he tells her. "Won't be long."
Unsurprisingly she growls in frustration as she flops her head down on her pillow. He could understand her irritation. Seemed like one thing after the next was attempting to stall them from their trip.
It took him fifteen minutes to get him to base and another five to go to analytics. Porvis was right there where he said he be. Gazing at something from the observation window before turning towards him.
"I hope I did not cause any trouble," he states.
"I can't stay here too long, you know," Hro gets out. "Lieutenant Hol and I have to be at our transport to Aloria in under four hours. What is it that you have to show me."
Without a word, Porvis gestures to the observation window. The first thing that Hro saw was that blasted Green Lantern insignia on the unconscious subject's green and black uniform.
"A Green Lantern." Hro crinkles his nose his disgust. "Where did you find him?"
"He was passing by my fleet as we were heading back from Nati Prime," Porvis answered. "I have just checked in before I notified you, and so far, his memories indicate that he was on a planet that has been visited by us in the past. Particularly one my sister and Katar have a history on."
Earth. "It was only forty-four years ago that Katar and Yera shared information on their time in Earth via Absorbacron."
"Yes, Hro, but the difference between the data from the late Paran Katar's Absorbacron and his son's indicate that human life can change in over just a little fifty years. If we were to send someone to Earth, it is prudent for them to be given up to date information."
"Let's hope that we can put this Lantern's information to use soon," Hro replies. "What are you going to do with him?"
"Part of the reason why I asked for you to come." Porvis shrugs. "He doesn't know what's going on, but we can't risk his ring going back to where those Guardians live from our system should we dispatch him."
Porvis did have a point. They were already locked in a generation-long war with the Gordanians. As much as the general population had a disdain for the Green Lantern Corps – primarily for that incident with Rayn Kral years ago – it wouldn't be worth engaging in a war with them. War was going to be a part of life, but they couldn't afford to stretch their forces thin with two concurrent wars.
One of those thoughts gave Hro an idea what to do with this human. One that would have resulted in Katar slugging him if he were in the room. Even if the loyalty of Katar and the elder Shayera weren't in question, they would still have a sentimental attachment to the planet and the people from it. Not that he held it against them. It was to be expected, for they were on Earth for sixteen years.
It has gotten to the point where Hro couldn't account for his friends and loved one's personal feelings when it comes to decisions anyway.
"You know that Gordanian Cruiser that one of us hijacked?" he asked. "When you're done with him, put his unconscious body in it with dead Gordanians and route it to Karna. Those Oan Guardians would be none the wiser about what actually happened."
"I could have thought of it myself," Porvis acknowledged.
"Sometimes we can't think of things until others mention it," Hro pointed out.
"How's it on the field, Peacock?"
"Let's just say we're getting our wings handed to us down here, Magpie."
By the time Katar Hol had arrived with his unit, just one look at the Gordanian fleet indicated to him that they would be outnumbered. That they would be biting off more than they could chew. Even if he and his soldiers could hold their own, they still needed more numbers. Fortunately, Yera was on standby, and he was able to request her assistance.
The Gordanians weren't holding back when Yera and her unit got there. Lieutenant Reva Norch was barely hanging by a thread as some of the field medics tended to her. With their units combined, they'd just barely had the man-power equal to them.
"We'll take them from the back," Yera shouted, mace in hand. "You and your unit can keep your formation."
"No problem," he said.
Great Polaris, fighting the Nazis during our Justice Society days on Earth was a piece of cake compared to this, he thinks. Though it wasn't this fucking bad before.
They always had their losses, but lately, it seemed that the Gordanians were outnumbering them. At this rate, they could be losing to them in less than a decade.
Yera went to her destination, and not long did Katar find himself toe to toe with one of the Gordanian soldiers. The blood pumping in his veins; sweat running down his skin as he blocked each blow and returned a new one.
Before his trip to Earth, Katar simply believed as his friends and fellow soldiers did: that they would become one with the winds after death. That one had no soul since the days they worshiped Ichultu. No afterlife to go to. However, his mother – a Cherokee shaman – begged to differ.
"We all have souls, Katar," she said in a day that felt like it was yesterday. "They become spirits upon death. Sometimes they manifest themselves in the bodies of the animals that walk with us. Sometimes they are unseen."
Katar was not afraid of death. To fear of death was a sign of cowardice on Thanagar. Though he now wondered where his spirit would go. Maybe he'd join his brothers among wolves after. There was a brother wolf back on Earth that became his companion after World War II. Aside from Big Red. He could only take the latter with him back to Thanagar, as much as he wanted to bring the former with him.
However, this was one of those instances where he knew he had to get out alive. Not just for his dear Magpie but for the people in that underground clinic in the Downside. To see if Treska and her baby were doing well.
Katar noticed too late that where his wife and her soldiers were fighting that the Gordanians were vacating the area as a enemy ship descended on the area. Only picking up the "Commander, what are you waiting for! Go, now!" before he picks up the sound of the explosion.
The blood drains from the surface of his skin as he watches his Magpie being blown yards away. Hearing nothing but the ringing in of his ears, watching – as if in slow motion – her body being flown like a rag doll as she's toppled by rubble and earth.
"SHAYERA!" he screams, his heart in his throat. Not hesitating to fly to where his wife was buried alive.
Aloria was a moon that orbited around the gas planet Polyphemus in the Polaris system. It would take a half a day by cruiser. Only a few seconds with the relativity-beam latter which Shayera and Hro used to get to Aloria. Their luggage was transported ahead of time.
"Ah!" Shayera slumps on the chaise moments after they entered the lodge they would be staying in. "Finally, some peace."
"And when the last day comes, you'll itching to go back." He takes a seat next to her. "You'll probably be hoping for some action as well."
"Oh, come on, you would too," Shayera points out. "Besides, it's nice to have some peace and quiet. Even if it is just for four days."
"It's not like we can take it for granted, either" he conceded. "What do you want to do? There is a hunting spot we could go to that is nearby."
"We could," she began as she picked up one of his hands to kiss his fingers. Her body feeling warm by the close proximity to him. Oh, in that moment, she had wanted to see and feel more of him. "Though I can think of something else we can do."
"Oh, really?" he asked, as if he seemed to know what she was getting at. His hand touched her thigh. "Well, lieutenant, if that is what you want…"
His lips capture hers in the same moment he picks her up. Flying them out of the sitting area to the bedroom.
Their casual maskswere the first to go before they tore away anything that was a barrier between their skin. Her hand touched the left side of his face as they resumed kissing. Feeling the gnarly scars under the skin of her palm. His right hand sliding to the base of her wing; goosebumps rippling under his touch as his fingers grazed the scar left by a Gordanian blade.
He lifts his head up. Shayera growls as she pulls his head down to meet his lips again. The heat building up around them as their kisses intensify as he pulls her up with him. The blood humming in her veins as Hro spears into her as they float midair.
They bob down slightly as she arches her back. Curving her legs around the rut of his hips and holding onto his shoulders for balance as she met him thrust for thrust. In this moment, it was just the two of them. Feeling nothing but their skin melding together; hearing nothing but their own moans and growls; thinking of nothing else but passionate bubble they are in.