Archive of Our Own

You wish it hadn't come to this.

Silent though it was, you could still hear the battle waging all around you, faint aftershocks from punches and kicks vibrating against your eardrums.

All around you Viltrumite fought Viltrumite, the new empire versus the children of Thragg, nothing but fodder in their mad father's last ditch effort to do… something. What that something was though you had no idea. Just that Thragg was lashing out, broken after losing everything he'd fought and bled and been born for.

Despite everything that had happened and was still happening, you still found it within yourself to still feel sympathy for the ex-Grand Regent. You couldn't imagine what he must've felt after everything– god, if you really thought about it, you could understand, you really could.

Then you watched as your brother and Thragg flew towards the sun, frozen and holding the Thraggling you'd been fighting; they followed your gaze, gaping in horror.

The both of you watched as both men went where no Viltrumite had ever gone before and survived and ended things.

No.

As horror and regret gripped you– as exhaustion and all the pain you've been through over the years hit you again like a tidal wave, something swept across your senses, foreign and eerie. But you were too focused on the battle to pay attention.

You really wish it hadn't come to this. If only–

Your eyes widened, shivers beginning to shoot up and down your spine, making you jolt and rear back.

If only you'd done things differently–

Memories hit you, a slideshow of all the times you failed–

If only you could change things!

One great big shiver made your back arch and head snap back, a gasp leaving you as you suddenly saw white–

And were pulled back.

Gasping, you shot up, scream half-caught in your throat as you scrambled around, confused and not understanding what had just happened or where you were.

Shooting up, you hovered in the air, head darting from side to side, taking in your surroundings as your panic receded, heart calming down and awareness taking control once more.

This…

You looked again, at the posters, the figurines, the old toys…

This was your room. Your old room at mom's place.

With a shuddering exhale, you lowered yourself, knelt on your bed, utterly confused on how you got here.

It– it couldn't be a dream, right? No way. No, it was too real, too detailed. No way you dreamed everything up. Dad's betrayal, Angstrom, the Invincible War, Conquest, the Scourge, Terra, Robot's takeover, Oliver, dad, Thragg–

You froze.

Thragg.

Thragg and Mark– your baby brother, they'd been fighting to the death. There's no way they'd be able to survive, either of them. And you– everything, you hadn't wanted– just wanted to fix things and take everything back–

Had that been it? Was this a do-over?

Just as you thought that, your door abruptly opened, your dad– dad!– stepping in, looking a little concerned.

“Hey, sweetie, are you okay? Heard you freak out a bit. Did you have a nightmare?”

For a few long seconds, you just stare at him, taking in your dad after… it had been so long, you'd– you'd missed him more than you realized.

As the silence dragged on, Nolan's expression turned concerned.

“Sweetie?”

You blinked. A tear hit the bedsheets.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “A very long nightmare.”

The wind whipped through your hair, whistling in your ears as you flew above the countryside, Nolan guiding you.

A quick review placed you back around nineteen years old, and Mark just turned sixteen, exactly a year and a half before shit hits the fan.

If everything was real. Which you still needed to figure out if it was.

Glancing over at your father, you took in how serene he was, how calm he was as he flew with you; you'd gotten your powers late last year, a celebration for the family, but… now that you know the truth (maybe), you definitely picked up on the hidden parts of his reaction when he learned. Realisation, horror, resignation.

Now, it was just a countdown to Mark getting his powers for him to act.

After a while, an idea comes to you.

“… hey, dad?” You break the silence tentatively, waiting for your dad to look at you. “How come you never talk about Viltrum?” You ask softly, trying to act as you used to– young and innocent and still so, so naive to the truth.

At your question, Nolan glanced away, expression carefully neutral.

“Not much to talk about.” He says simply, tone implying this should be the end. But you won't be deterred.

“Oh, come on! Not even– I don't know anything about the place! Like, does it have royalty? Kings, dukes, emperors?” You ask, then, before it can be considered a little too on the nose– “What about animals? Or a– a flag? Or even the most common tree. Just… anything?”

At your begging look– much more effective at your younger age– Nolan sighs and mulls it over before, finally, giving you an answer.

“Viltrum has an imperial family.” He says, tone more curt than before. “Well. Did.”

Oh? Trying not to perk up, you were glad Viltrumite senses weren't strong enough to pick up on heartbeats, as yours skipped an excited beat and sped up.

“Really? What happened?”

“The… emperor died during battle.” He answers uneasily. “And his heirs were lost. Until they're found, Viltrum has no emperor.”

“Then who rules it? A council?” It's not. It can't be. If Nolan says the truth, then you'll know for sure that everything you dreamt was real, was the future. Because how could you have come up with any of it on your own?

Glancing at you, your dad hesitates before answering, probably figuring this didn't reveal anything.

“No, a Grand Regent, personally chosen by the last emperor and trained to be the strongest.”

Your breath caught.

Grand Regent.

Strongest.

Thragg.

It was real. All of it.

Now you just had to figure out what to do.

The obvious thing to do next was write everything you knew down. A lot would happen in the next few years– decade. God, had it really been that long?

Focus.

Grabbing your journal and some pens, you began, hesitating a moment as you tried to get your thoughts in order. Then, pen to paper, you began listing the order of events following your brother getting his powers.

The Guardians murder, Flaxan invasions, Doc Seismic, Machine Head, shit what else… the college thing– Sinclair! And the Mars mission long before that (you made a note to look up when it was scheduled for, maybe take the mission yourself. What had you even done during that time? You couldn't remember). Then…

It was a mess. So many things just–

You jotted down what you remembered, order be dammed. You could sort that out afterwards.

Names, events, locations; your hand was a blur as you mentally went through everything you remembered, trying to figure out what to do, how to do it.

You– you couldn't interfere too much, could you? If you stopped your dad… Oliver would never be born. He'd never turn traitor by his own choice, and what butterflies would that cause? Maybe if he never left his station, if the fight was kept hush-hush, Earth would have longer to prepare. But…

Fuck.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think through everything, mind loud and weighed by everything.

The Flaxans, Angstrom, Invincible War, Anissa, Conquest, the Scourge, Robot…

Slowly, you sat up, setting aside your things and heading to your closet, opening it and staring at the copies of your old hero suit hanging there.

For a long moment you just stared, overcome with nostalgia. Slowly, you grabbed one, undressing and putting it on.

Years ago, when you were a little girl, you'd gone through your parents things and found dad's old Viltrumite uniform. He'd found you playing with it, and indulged you by putting it on, showing off and making you laugh. That memory had stayed with you, inspiring your choice in your own suit when you got your powers and went to Art.

It was mainly white with soft baby blue stars scattered across your thighs, waist, and shoulders; the gloves and boots were entirely blue, the further up your body they got though, the more it faded back to white. Across your chest was a simple six-pointed star in reflective silver colouring. And finally was the blue domino mask with white lenses.

Putting it all on, you grinned, feeling lighter than you had in a long while. You flexed, stretched, taking in your reflection in the mirror, quickly tying your hair back and completing your iconic look.

Yeah, this is what you needed.

Just by putting on the costume, everything felt more manageable; like by becoming Morningstar again, you could do anything.

Grabbing your journal, you flew out the window, quickly ascending to the sky and then shooting off towards the Pentagon.

You knew exactly who to go to for this.

“Sir, Morningstar has just arrived and is asking to see you immediately.”

Looking up from his paperwork, Cecil quickly pressed a finger to his earpiece.

“Let her in.” He said, wondering what you could possibly want and so urgently.

Standing up from his desk, the Director stretched, old bones creaking. He took a moment to rest his eyes, knowing it wouldn't be long before the oldest Grayson kid showed up at his door.

He still remembers the day you got powers, how young you'd been, how untrained; yet in a few short years you'd flourished. While nowhere near Nolan's level, you were certainly the second strongest hero on earth, and he was always tempted to offer you a spot on the Guardians. It's just that Nolan always interfered when he brought it up.

Regardless, Morningstar was a well-known and beloved hero, with or without a team. And you were definitely more preferable to work with than Nolan, more agreeable too.

Which was why Cecil didn't really take any issue to you showing up out of the blue and demanding his attention. He figured you'd earned that much.

He also figured that, when the day came for Nolan to reveal his true colours– whatever they were– it was better to have you on his side than your dad's. And to do that, Cecil had to play friendly with the world's most powerful teenager. Easy-peasy.

A soft alert told him you were at the door and he pressed the button to open them, allowing you in.

“Hey, kid, what's– kid?”

As he stood up and rounded the table to speak to you more equally, Cecil saw your whole demeanour change.

Your breath hitched, shoulders bunched up, fingers flexed.

Then you pulled your mask off, looking at him with such big, emotional eyes.

Cecil didn't have any time to wonder what was wrong or even ask, as the next thing he knew you shot towards him, suddenly hugging his body tight, but not too tight, face buried against his shoulder and breathing in shakily.

Shocked and tense, Cecil's heart hammered with momentary fear before he calmed himself. Dammit, but having a Viltrumite fling themselves at him was scary no matter what.

Gently, and very much awkwardly, Cecil laid his hands on your shoulders.

“Kid? What's wrong?” He asks, trying to recall if you'd been sent on any missions lately, something traumatizing.

With a shaky breath, you stepped back, just looking up at the man who'd been a mentor and calming hand when you needed it most.

“Sorry, I just… missed you so much.” What? “Mm, ahem, ah… I know this is sudden, but can you clear your schedule? And make sure no one disturbs us.” Your face turned serious. “This is really important, Cecil.”

Staring down at you, Cecil considered for a moment before nodding, untangling himself from your (desperate, he noted) embrace, rounding his desk and sending a message to Donald he'd be busy and to clear the day.

Then he sat down and watched as you opened what looked like a normal diary.

“Alright, Morningstar, what is it?”

A little over an hour later, the Director of the GDA rested his head in his hands, hearing you quietly sip some water after you finished explaining… everything.

The future. Goddamn, but he thought he'd seen the last of time-travel shenanigans in the 90s.

At least this was actually of use to them.

“So, in less than two years Nolan is going to kill the Guardians and then try to take over the world.” He summed up. You nodded. “And then he's going to regret his actions at the last minute and leave…”

“And have my brother Oliver on another planet.” You say, sighing as you begin listing things off on your fingers. “Then get captured by the Viltrumites, ally himself with Allen of the Coalition of Planets, gather a bunch of weaknesses of Viltrumites… and so on.”

Cecil stared at you. Then stood up and grabbed a drink from the cabinet.

When he offered one to you, you awkwardly waved it off. “Oh, no, plus I'm technically–”

“It doesn't matter if you're physically not old enough. You experienced a decades worth of life.” He points out, pouring himself a glass and then a smaller one for you anyway. “I think that offers up some leeway.”

As he knocked back his own, needing the immediate relief, you took yours and nipped at it.

Setting his glass back down, he once again felt the weight of the world lay itself on his shoulders. But he was used to it, so Cecil just took a breath and looked up at you.

“Alright, so what's the plan, Morningstar?” He asks, knowing you must have something in mind.

Sitting up straighter, you began telling him what you'd planned out so far.

Most of it is what he would've come up with himself, making a bit of pride swell up within him, like he'd passed something onto you. Yet as you get to after Nolan leaves, Cecil begins to frown, listening as you explain your reasoning.

“Kid– that's– you're taking a risk that, based on what you've told me, won't work out.”

“But it will. I thought about it the entire fly over and– it'll work.” You say, emphasizing the words like if you do, they'll become more likely, more possible. “It will. This is the only way everyone wins.”

Cecil just stares at you, realising that, yeah, you had indeed learned from him.

“By sacrificing yourself?” He asks, hating that he was beginning to agree with you. Because if there was any chance, any chance at all that this worked…

It would be worth it.

So, so worth it.

So Cecil pours himself another glass and tries not to think too hard about what you've told him. He might start to feel bad if he does.

The next couple of years pass by faster and slower than you expected. The anxiety of the awaiting future was ever present, a weight on your mind as you tried to sleep at night, felt during every family meal and every interaction with your dad.

You began counting down the months, marking when Mark would get his powers and everything that happens afterwards.

In the meantime, you helped Cecil plan for this new future the best you could, offering advice and knowledge which you were surprised he took. Last time around, he never would've at your current age. Then again, last time you'd actually been nineteen and still very immature.

But this time, you had the experiences and maturity of a twenty-nine year old woman who'd fought aliens and in wars. And if that wasn't enough, your future knowledge was certainly enough to gain his ear.

Sinclair was hired much earlier this time, Cecil scouting him and offering the young genius a job before he could hurt anyone. Likewise, Angstrom was also found, offered a job as well.

You didn't know much about his plan before the accident, but apparently he'd wanted to make this world a better place, had gotten help. It just… ended up going wrong. Because of Mark.

Not that you blamed your baby brother, but… he did tend to mess up things early on.

(Not that you had any room to speak.)

But now he wouldn't. Now some of the biggest threats he'd ever face were being dealt with early on, and for the betterment of everyone.

With Angstrom’s ability to access infinite worlds, the GDA suddenly had access to infinite resources as well, something you knew made everyone involved happy.

Then, the Mauler Twins. Employing them was harder, so you left that to Cecil.

(Though you did wonder why he never did in the previous timeline. Or any of these people. Surely the GDA noticed someone making interdimensional portals, right?)

You weren't sure what he did– whether he used threats or promises or even some brainwashing tech– but the next time you saw them the two were working on making cloning stations for the Guardians.

“They have to die, Cecil. If we want things to go correctly, then things have to stay mostly the same until Nolan leaves Earth.” You tell him quietly one night, the both of you looking down at the Maulers working.

Besides you, Cecil sighs, arms crossed and tired.

“I know, kid. Better than anyone. Doesn't mean I like it.”

Eyes softening, you laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Project Phoenix, as it was called, was this: using a mix of the Maulers cloning technology and then bringing in Robot (or Rudy) to make more of those neuro-links he uses for his drones– with a few alterations–, the GDA would be able to make copies of the Guardians (or any hero really) that, upon death, would receive all the originals memories and be ready for action soon after.

Sadly, for things to go right, the Guardians would have to stay “dead” for nearly a year. But in the grand scheme of things… well. It was well worth it.

You also made sure to mention who'd become the new Guardians to Cecil, along with Darkwing II whom would go insane if left alone. The kid had skills, and you knew Cecil would want to make use of them as soon as he could.

But it wasn't all planning for the future, as during those two years you'd continued being a hero, and even started training under the GDA's watch again like you did in the future (though far later than you should've). You insisted on it, needing to be stronger if your plan was going to work.

Which it would. It had to. You wouldn't accept anything else.

Then, one night after hours of training and then being sent to catch Tether Tyrant and Magmaniac (whom you brought to Cecil to rehabilitate), you returned home to find your mom waiting for you.

Pausing in the doorway, you looked at her, once again taken aback by how young she looked here.

“Hey, mom.” You say, toeing off your shoes by the door.

Debbie offered you a weary smile before patting the sofa which she sat on. “Come sit with me for a moment, sweetie?”

You did, joining her and turning to face her. “Yeah? What's up?”

For a few seconds, your mother looked at you, taking in the changes, the bags under your eyes, the slight muscles you'd gained.

“Nothing, I just… I was just wondering what's going on with you.” She says, expression tight like she isn't sure how to say what she's thinking. “It's been… months since you've… changed.”

Internally, you frown, realising you hadn't been as careful as you thought. But of course they noticed, they were your family and you'd always been close…

Until you'd woken up with a decades worth of memories in your head. Until you started planning for your dad's eventual betrayal and trying to keep earth safe and grappling with the fact you were going to go to Viltrum–

Of course you changed.

And of course they noticed.

“Not that it's wrong to change!” Debbie quickly said, reaching for your hands. “It's just… you're so quiet these days, so shut off. I thought I'd give it time, thought you were just going through something and would talk to me but… it's been months, sweetheart. And you're pushing yourself, I know you are.” She squeezes your hands, hers more calloused than your own despite the fact you were the one going out fighting and cleaning up debris daily. “You barely sleep, are always out there fighting…

“I just… want to know what's up with my daughter.”

The house is quiet as you look down at her hands holding yours. It's dark, calm; nostalgia tickles your senses as you recall late nights watching movies during the summer, windows open and blowing in a warm breeze, carrying the sounds of crickets chirping and neighbours laughing in their yards.

Mark would always fall asleep first, little hand holding onto some part of you as you kept watching TV until the movie was finished. Then dad would come and carry you both up, always smelling fresh from a shower as he did.

Blinking away those memories, you look up at Debbie Grayson, wishing you could tell her the truth, really, you did. But–

You had to keep the timeline intact until after. Because how could you live with yourself if you made things worse? If Oliver was never born, if dad never willingly changed? Those were such key factors to future events, to your life. You couldn't ruin that.

So you sigh and you lie– hiding most of the truth and just claiming you'd had a terrible nightmare one morning, and after that wanted to take things more seriously.

“It freaked me out pretty bad, I guess. And Cecil's been training me, helping me and sending me on different types of villains. I want to be a hero, mom, but not just the kind that beats up bad guys. I want to catch drug lords and save towns from disasters and stop people from hurting children.” You say, voice rough as you speak because yeah, that is what you're doing (what you should always have been doing), what you'll keep doing because soon enough you won't be here to do it.

Your mother listens in silence, thumbs stroking your knuckles as she does.

“But what about everything else? College, boys, going out and living your life?”

You smile sadly.

“That's not me, mom. This is.” You say. And what would be the point, anyway?

You'd be on Viltrum before long, and you didn't know if you'd ever be able to leave afterwards. If…

But Debbie Grayson doesn't know that. She just hears you say you're changing, growing up, discovering who you are and what you want to do and, though she wishes you'd continue being a normal girl, understands and smiles.

“Okay, sweetie. If you're sure.” She kisses your cheek. You don't move to wipe the stickiness of her lip-gloss away.

“I am.” You whisper, watching as she stands and heads to the kitchen, warming dinner up for you.

You were going to miss your mom.

The seasons flew by, summer turning to autumn then to winter, the year ending with a bang and the new one starting sluggishly and coldly, snow falling around the country.

The world continued on, villains and kaijus and a million other things. But after your talk with mom, you tried spending more time your family, using the money Cecil payed you to buy Mark all the Seance Dog merch you could find.

“Woah! This is– holy shit!”

Grinning, you watched him damn near flip out over a limited edition metallic 3ft tall Seance Dog statue.

Mark gave you a look of pure shock and thankfulness, smile so wide it looked like it would tear his skin.

“There's only fifty of these in existence!” He points out like you didn't know.

Shrugging, you just grin back. “Yeah, and it took half of my paycheck to buy it, so you better take care of it.” You warn with a playful finger wag.

Mark hugs it tight. “Uh, obviously! This is becoming a family heirloom at this point! I'll pass it onto my kids someday!” He says, once again looking it over excitedly.

You just laugh, happy to see your brother overjoyed.

Then, one day as you're walking the streets, you see a toy shop, eyes softening as you think about Oliver.

You enter without a second thought, splurging on some things, even finding a blue mantis plushy among the options.

When you get home, you put it all away in a box and push it under your bed. You sit there for a long moment, feeling a weird squeeze in your heart at the realisation that you wouldn't be here to see Oliver play with them, that this would probably be all he had from you for a long, long time.

Frowning, you got up, grabbing your laptop and its camera, and started to record some videos.

(In his office at the GDA, Cecil would receive an email from you containing a few video messages, with a request to show them to your family afterwards.

He responded that he would. It's the least he could do.)

And then finally, after the agonizing year and half long wait: the beginning of the end.

Sitting at that dinner table as Mark told you all that he got his powers and acting happy for him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. Because you knew what dad was thinking. Knew what awaited Mark in the next few months. And you just–

Mark looked at you, grinning, eyes sparkling. “We can finally go flying together!” He said, and all you hear at that moment is his much younger self speaking, recalling that time right after dad told you both about where he really came from, about how you'd both someday get powers too.

Mark had been so excited to fly someday that he'd spent the entire night restless, jumping off the bed and onto some pillows trying to trigger it. You'd sat, watching and giggling and encouraging him until your parents had come and put an end to the fun.

The seventeen year old who looks at you right now is that same little boy who just wanted to fly and save lives.

So you smile and reach over, giving him a side hug with more strength than you ever have before up until now, because now he can take it, stronger than a human already and they had just kicked in.

“Yeah,” you say, ignoring Nolan’s eyes digging into the side of your head. “We can.”

Three days later, dad never came back home that night, and in the morning, there was a GDA agent at your door.

The Guardians had been murdered.

Patience had never really been your strong suit, growing up. You'd always lose yourself in daydreams trying to pass the time, foot tapping and knee bouncing as you waited for class to end, for a show to start, for mom to finish getting ready and take you out.

It wasn't until after the Viltrumite war you'd really learned patience, glad to take things slow after ten long months of fighting and travelling and trauma. You'd really thought you'd changed, matured, could wait.

Yet here and now you found yourself on edge 24/7, impatiently waiting to get a move on, for it just to happen. You'd never realized how tense things were after dad got home that first time around; hadn't noticed the looks exchanged between your parents or how dad stared at you and Mark when he thought you weren't looking.

You hadn't realized how anxiety inducing it would be to live like this, counting down the days to each event.

With your information freely given, Cecil had been prepared to handle the Flaxans long before they invaded. And, turns out, Angstrom can also access other dimensions within dimensions.

Simply put: the Flaxans had been fucked before your dad even woke up.

You weren't sure on the details, but Cecil was planning on trying to use the other dimensions timey-whimey bullshit for training– once the Flaxans were under control, that is.

(Having been told how big of a threat they are, never giving up even after nearly being eradicated and then the whole Robot thing… yeah, Cecil had no mercy left to give to the alien invaders.)

Then the Mars mission. Turns out, around this time there'd been a surge of weird cave crawling monsters somewhere in Taiwan, so that's what you'd been occupied with. This time, you switch with Mark, trying to remember what you recalled of them and passing it onto Cecil to then tell Mark. Which would be far less suspicious than if his older sister told him.

On Mars, you stayed hidden until you couldn't anymore, intercepting the Martians from taking the astronauts and explaining things. Reluctantly, they let them be and only watched from afar, making sure none of their mind controlling slaves got to them.

Right before liftoff, Shapesmith appeared, begging to go to Earth with them. Even if not the most powerful, he was still a useful hero, so you helped him on board and once back on Earth, introduced him to Cecil, leaving him to deal with the extra Martian.

Prevent the Sequid invasion? Check.

Stop Mark from having to kill an innocent man? Also check.

“Hey, catch.”

Looking up from his textbooks, Mark caught the red rock you flung at him. He blinked at it, then looked up.

“A rock?”

“A mars rock.” You correct with a grin, which Mark immediately matched as he realised that, yeah, he was holding a piece of another planet!

“Cool.” He says, getting up to put it by a few other collectibles you'd gotten him: a scale from a kaiju, some more comic merch, a deep sea shell, a moon rock. “You always get the best stuff, sis.”

“That's because I am the best.” You say, leaning against the doorway. “So, you taking Amber out soon?” You ask. Mark nods, and you hum. “You need any money?”

Grimacing, your younger brother rubs the back of his neck. “I don't… it's a little embarrassing taking money from you all the time.”

You shrug. “It's really no big deal. What am I going to spend it on anyway? Plus, Cecil pays me a fuckton. Giving you a few hundred dollars for a date really doesn't bother me.”

He thinks about that for a moment, eyeing you before awkwardly smiling.

“Um, in that case… I kinda wanna buy Amber this thing– a baul? And it's like…” He winces. “Nearly a thousand?”

Without missing a beat or blinking, you reach into your pocket, grab your wallet, and pass the money over.

Mark gives you a beaming smile.

“Best. Sister. Ever.”

You nod seriously. “Damn fucking right.”

And then, of course, Titan.

Listen, you could respect what he does for his city. But involving your brother? Your brothers? Multiple times? Yeah, that didn't fly with you. Especially not now, not after you'd finally snapped out of your… issues.

But sadly, this was something Mark had to do himself. You hated it, but you couldn't coddle him. Not when you wouldn't be around much longer. Mark needed to get stronger on his own, and all these attacks– all these near death encounters did make him Invincible over time.

He needed to go through it. You didn't want to know what would happen if he didn't.

So when he and Titan attacked Machine Head, you lingered nearby, watching from high in the sky.

At some point, you were joined by your dad.

“… so foolish.” He mutters after minutes of silence, arms crossed.

Defensive, you cut your eyes at him. “He's doing what he thinks is right. Let him. Mark isn't some child anymore, allow him to make his own decisions.”

Your harsh tone makes him blink in surprise, Nolan never having had you snap at him before. For a moment, he falters, unsure of how to respond. Yet after a moment, a moment in which you can see Battle Beast go for Mark, your dad responds.

“And is this right?” He asks, the both of you watching blood spray and Mark go down.

You just steel yourself despite the way you start to feel sick. He needed this, you remind yourself. If he doesn't go through this, how ever will he survive dad?

So you swallow and say, “Helping people is never the wrong choice.” Because it isn't. Titan sucks and sometimes you allow yourself to fantasize about hurting his family for hurting yours, but he does do good, does deserve help to get an even worse man out of power.

For a time, you think, lips curling into a sneer. Machine Head would get out of jail and become head of the Order, become even more powerful.

But… you trust Cecil has a plan for that. Especially with the tools and information he now has at his disposal. He'll handle it.

The second Battle Beast leaves, you shoot in, slamming through the glass and startling everyone there. Even Machine Head is caught off guard, clearly not having calculated for you.

Allowing the new Guardians their moment, you cover Mark, cradling your baby brother's head and whispering assurances to him, trying to soothe him through the pain.

It would be okay. Everything would be okay. Just rest, Mark, everything would be okay.

Five months after you see Mark get put into a hospital bed because of Battle Beast, you see him get put into another by your own father.

It's bad, so much worse, but he's breathing and you're there, bruised and cut but much better off, joining him after dad leaves, whispering your assurances once again, curled around your invincible little brother and wiping the tears running down his bruised and swollen face.

You hold him even as the helicopter arrives, mom crying as she holds his hand as he's carried onto it. You follow, hovering above and out of the way, staring down at your brother like this is the last time you're ever going to see him.

It won't be, but it will be some time if your plan works out.

At the GDA they take him to a room to be worked on, surgery and the chip– god, the fucking chip. You'll– you understand it but… later. You'll talk to Cecil about it later. For now you're getting checked over by the doctors, Debbie clinging to the hand you offered her as she sniffles and cries quietly, like each cut they clean and cover hurts her.

You suppose it would, being her daughter and all, her husband being the one to do this.

With a sigh, you shut your eyes, glad for everything to be over and done with but now– now was the aftermath, the clean up, the…

Phase two of the plan, so to speak. So far, up to now everything had been mostly kept the same with minor differences, and those had been for the better.

But now… now everything was going to change.

Besides you, Debbie pulled your hand to her mouth, kissing each fingertip like she used to do when you were little. You slump, smiling weakly at her.

But not right away.

You still had a few weeks until Allen showed up again, after all.

The return home after Mark healed enough to leave was… hard. Especially because you knew you wouldn't be here for long, wouldn't be here to help or comfort them.

Once again, you told yourself it was necessary, that it had to be done. It was the only thing that made sense to you, that would fix everything…

Or, you thought pessimistically, it won't work at all and will instead make everything worse, therefore dooming the universe.

But hey, what did being pessimistic get you? Misery. It got you misery and depression. So you'd continue being positive and hopeful no matter how dumb it was.

(Was it obvious you were starting to freak out? That finally after nearly two years, you'd finally have to go to Viltrum and make your offer? Because you were and it was so, so hard not to break down because you were fucking terrified.)

You gave it a week before you gathered what remained of your family, saying you needed to talk and that it was important.

As mom and Mark sat together, you sat across from them, looking around the house you grew up in, truly drinking it in one last time.

“Sweetie?”

Your mother's tentative voice brought your attention to them, and you drank them in as well.

Mark was still a little banged up, arm in a cast. And Debbie hadn't been sleeping enough, hair greasy from not being washed and faintly smelled of wine.

You were going to make it worse. Fuck. You hated that you were going to do this to them.

Still, you took a breath and started.

“I can't… explain everything right now. Because that would take too long and I can't– I don't have the time for it. But I'm doing this because I love you both, and I love this world, and it's the only way to fix everything.” You quickly said, taking a breath before–

“I'm leaving and going to Viltrum.”

It took a moment for them to react, but when they did, it was loud.

“You– leaving?!”

“Viltrum? Like dad's planet?” Mark stood up, face full of shock and concern.

On the couch, mom looked broken and terrified.

“Yes, the planet dad came from. I need to go to make things right–”

“What are you talking about? Wh– how do you even know where it is?” Mark asked, confusion so innocent and paining you.

Debbie shook her head. “Sweetie, no, you– whatever you're thinking, just–”

“I have to do this. I've planned it out and–”

“Planned what out! You're not telling us anything!”

You stood, beginning to panic.

“I can't explain it–”

Debbie stood up, angry and worried and demanding as she looks at you, reaches for you.

“Yes, you can, young lady! If you've thought about whatever this is so much, then you can certainly tell us what you're planning to do!”

You froze, your mother's strict tone making you freeze and you just…

You can't.

How can you tell them the truth? Face to face, how can you tell mom you knew dad would nearly kill her own son, that he'd call her a pet and betray her so thoroughly? How can you look her in the eye and say that you knew she'd been sleeping next a monster all these years?

How?

And Mark– oh, Mark…

How do you tell him any of it? How? Planning was easy, preparing to be a sacrifice was too, but this? Telling them you'd known and said nothing, leaving them in the dark–

It becomes too much.

Heart jolting in your chest and breaths coming out panicked, you begin backing away, missing the way their expressions changed and how they called your name, shooting out the door and quickly heading to the GDA to pick up what you needed.

You'd regret leaving the way you did later. Right now, you just needed to get away before the panic and regret made you lose it. It wasn't a surprise that you did, though.

You'd always been a fucking coward.

Sitting on the moon, you sit and wait for Allen to show up, knowing today is the day he would.

You wore your hero suit with an oxygen tank and mask from the GDA. You knew you could go– without exerting yourself in a fight– three weeks without oxygen. You'd been training for it, and hadn't yet reached the cap. You think a month is the average limit for most Viltrumites? Anyway, the tank was so you could fly for longer. Food and water you didn't need as much, but air? Yeah, you'd need that in space for sure.

Staring at your home, you wish you'd been able to explain things more, but… you'd been scared. Heh, nearly thirty years old and you'd been scared of a conversation. Jesus.

Fucking pathetic.

Then again, how could you have even looked at them and said any of it? No, you couldn't, the very thought made your hands sweat.

At least they had the messages you'd left behind. Cecil would make sure they'd see them, and then… they'd know.

Know you'd kept quiet. Know you'd allowed thousands to die because you couldn't risk changing things too much yet. Know you'd allowed them to play happy family with a man who, years ago, would've seen them as lesser, as pathetic animals.

The Mark of your time would understand. You're not sure this younger and more naive Mark would. You supposed you'd find out in the future, whenever that was.

Just as you went to check your watch, a voice echoed in your mind.

— Hey! —

Looking over, you saw the familiar Unopan fly towards you, a little confused but not ready to fight.

You wave. — Hey, Allen, right? I'm the guy you met last time’s sister. — You introduced yourself, Allen quickly shaking your hand before doing the whole there's a Viltrumite on your planet!!! thing Mark told you about.

You nodded. — Yeah. I know. Me and my brother are Viltrumites. Our dad was the one stationed here. — You glance aside. — He left a few weeks ago. —

Allen frowns, brow furrowing.

— Sorry, ‘left’? Like… gone and coming back or… —

— Left as in he abandoned his post. He tried taking over, told us the truth after lying to us for years, then flew off into space after beating my brother bloody. —

Allen winces. — Holy shit, is he okay? —

You nod. — Yeah, he's mostly healed. Viltrumites, y'know? —

He gives an uncomfortable laugh across the transmitter, — Oh, yeah, I know. —

You give a weak apologetic smile. — Anyway… I had a request for you. —

Allen sits up straighter. — Uh, yeah, shoot. What is it? —

— I have a plan to deal with the Viltrumites, but to even begin it I need to get to Viltrum. Do you think you or your Coalition can help me? —

Shocked couldn't even begin to describe the Unopan’s face. He gaped, then looked away, thinking for a moment, lots of murmurs travelling across the mind tech.

Finally, Allen stood up and offered you a hand.

— I think we can sort something out. My boss, Thaedus, would definitely be interested to hear this at least. —

With a smile, you took his hand and stood.

Finally, you were getting somewhere.

Not long after you left, Cecil showed up at the Grayson household, greeting Debbie and Mark gently, clearly knowing how delicate they were at the moment.

“What is it, Cecil?” Debbie asked heavily, exhaustion evident. First her husband, and now her daughter. What next, would Mark leave too? She didn't know how much more she could take.

Clearing his throat, Cecil set down a laptop.

“A while ago, your daughter sent me some videos and requested that, should she leave earth, I show them to you to explain things.” He said, both Graysons perking up.

Starting the video, he turned the device to face them, your face on screen as you sat in your bedroom, looking nervous.

“Okay, so… um. This is hard to say. I don't know–” you took an audible breath. “… okay. A little over a year ago, I woke up with the memories of the next ten or so years. And I know it's all real because I've checked.”

Mark and Debbie sat in silence, shocked.

Slowly, everything started to make sense. The changes, the way you'd reacted, everything–

“And I know what dad will do. I know he's going to kill the Guardians, that he's going to destroy Chicago… I know everything and I know–” you stopped, visibly upset as you rubbed your face. “I don't know how to say it without sounding awful. I don't know how to say it in a way you'll understand. There's no good way to say it. So… I know. I know what dad's going to do and I'm not going to stop it because it needs to happen. Because if it doesn't then everything goes off course and– and in the end it's better this way.”

Hand over her mouth, Debbie nearly sobs.

“What the hell…” Mark whispers, unable to believe his ears.

“And I'm… dreading to explain things to you, mom, Mark. There's just… so much.” You tilt your head back, looking around with weary eyes, bags already visible under them. “But I'm going to try, and if I miss anything, Cecil will be able to explain. I figure he owes me that much after everything I've down.”

Off to the side, the man in question’s lip twitches, looking away.

You weren't exactly wrong though, were you?

The entire time the recording played, your family went through a mix of emotions, barely able to believe half of what you said and yet, with Cecil there, they had confirmation of everything.

So they just sat there, listening, as you told them exactly what you left to do.

Even after all the years you'd spent traversing it, space never got old.

On a small ship crewed by only a couple aliens, you were finally on your way to Viltrum. After arriving on Talescria, you'd managed to convince Thaedus to help you, hiding your dislike of the man who could've led to your brother’s death if it weren't for the blood running through your veins.

Which you didn't tell him about, not wanting to risk it. No, you kept most of your plan secret and didn't let him on anything. Nothing important would be shared with a man who'd kill you just for who your ancestor was.

Thankfully, you weren't around him for long and were soon aboard a ship heading to the Viltrumite solar system.

At the edge of it, the ship stopped, the crew informing you they'd go no further. They couldn't risk Viltrumite wrath.

So you nodded, thanked them, donned your oxygen mask, and exited the ship, flying towards the planet surrounded by billions of dead bodies.

The closer you got, the more you could make out, taking them in with fascination. Last time you'd been here– the only other time you'd been here, you hadn't had time to take in the view, to find any sort of connection to this other part of yourself.

You'd always found that sad. Viltrumite culture may not have had much to offer, but it was still your culture. Your mother, despite moving to America at ten years old when her mother married Oliver Grayson, still was connected to her Korean side, had visited her place of birth and adopted subtle parts of the culture despite living in America for most her life.

And this was yours. Just as Earth was, just as Korean blood ran through your veins and an American name was attached to you, Viltrum was a part of you too.

It at least deserved recognition.

As you approached the ring of corpses, you looked around idly, seeing Viltrumites of all shapes and sizes, some with fascinating colouring too.

Some looked young, yet had pure white hair. A few with their eyes open, though dead and slightly grey, showed red and yellow eyes.

As you passed by the body of a middle aged-man with a white streak in his hair, movement up ahead caught your attention.

There, flying towards you from Viltrum, was Elix and Thula.

— Halt! — Thula’s voice reached you, and you stilled. She looked you over, expression twisting with disgust. — What is your purpose here? —

With the newly attached chip to your mask (right by your temple), you spoke to them.

— I have come to talk to Grand Regent Thragg. — You said. — I am the eldest child of Nolan, and I have come to offer the Grand Regent something. —

Elix narrowed her eyes. — What? —

You took a breath through the mask.

— The identity of Argall's heirs. —

You were led down to Viltrum between the two older women, both of them eyeing you suspiciously. Clearly, they suspected you were either lying… or they'd realized the truth, that the only way you'd know of Argall's heirs and who they were, was if…

Touching down onto the pale courtyard ground, you looked around, taking the oxygen mask off and breathing in the air.

It smelled faintly of rotting leaves, the air still filled with smog, the nearby plants clearly struggling to survive after the Scourge.

“This way,” Thula spoke aloud, voice quieter, less rough as she guided you towards the palace. Both she and Elix looked much more considering now, less like they'd beat you bloody and more like they'd wait first.

How nice of them.

The tall doors opened, and you shed the oxygen mask and tank by the doors, not needing them anymore.

The room was long and dark, a throne at the very end. Before it stood General Kregg, with Anissa standing near one wall and Conquest near another, radiating the type of satisfaction that spoke of having a good fight recently.

And there, bedecked in crimson and alabaster, was Thragg, eyes swiftly moving from Kregg to Thula, Elix, and then finally, you.

They narrowed.

“What is this?” He asked, beginning to stand.

On either side of you, the women stepped away, leaving you to fend for yourself before the Grand Regent.

Taking a slow, steady breath, you approached until you were just ten feet away from him. Tilting your head back, you held his gaze and spoke.

“I am the eldest child of Nolan,” you said, giving your name, “And I have come for two reasons.”

Thragg regarded you carefully. “Nolan's heir, hmm? And where is he?”

“Gone. He abandoned his post.”

Though they did not gasp, their shock was felt all around the room.

“Lies.” Thragg hissed, taking another step forward.

“I do not. I'm sure you'll be informed of it yourself soon enough. But that's not why I am here.”

“Then what is?” He asks, looking you over carefully, nose twitching at the sight of your suit.

Reaching up, you took off your mask, letting him see your eyes.

“I'm here to claim my throne.”

The room went still.

Kregg's eyes widened, Anissa lifted a brow, Conquest grinned.

Thragg just remained still.

“Your… throne?” He said slowly, carefully, as though the words were foreign, or perhaps amusing.

You nod, forcing yourself not to swallow. No nerves allowed.

“Yes, I am the descendant of Argall, after all.” You said calmly, another ripple of shock going through the room. “And my father is a traitor to Viltrum, has abandoned his mission and ran, so I do believe that disqualifies him from being emperor. Plus… he doesn't know he's of royal blood.”

“Oh, but you do?” Thragg said, anger beginning to spark in his dark depths.

“Yes. I will explain how after I have proven I am.” You say, stepping closer, reaching into the pouches at your side, pulling out two vials. “These also contain the blood of my brother and father, for further proof.”

Thragg's hands flexed at his sides.

“If this is true… do you truly believe you'll just be made empress? You know nothing of our customs, our ways. You are barely a Viltrumite.”

Behind his back, looks were exchanged. Even Conquest, barely loyal to the empire, didn't look like he agreed with Thragg; none of them did.

They'd had loyalty to their emperor and his bloodline beaten into them far more deeply than any loyalty to Thragg. Something you knew from witnessing it yourself.

“You're right. I don't. But I am still Argall’s heir, which is why once it is proven…”

And here your nerves nearly showed as you closed the space between you, looking into his eyes, just a foot apart. You almost didn't say it, almost couldn't do it.

But you had to.

For everyone. For your family. For the good of the universe.

“… I would ask you to become my partner.”

Thragg went still. Eyes widening silently as he took you in, clearly not expecting that.

“I'm not sure how it's done on Viltrum, but on Earth, people with equal claim to things or with equal power consolidate it through marriage. I don't know anything about ruling, but you do. You don't have any royal blood, but I do, and our children will as well.”

That makes him react, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath.

For a long moment, all you could hear was the pounding of your heart.

This was it. This was the only way you could think of fixing things.

You'd never wanted the responsibility, had passed your claim onto Mark, but after watching the way it wore down on him, regretted it.

This was how you'd fix everything. You'd bear the weight, you'd chain yourself to Thragg, you'd do anything you had to if it meant keeping everyone safe.

Finally, Thragg turns his head slightly, speaking to Kregg.

“Alert the labs. Have the medics prepare to analyse blood.” He spoke, eyes still on you. “Let us see if her claims hold any truth.”

Thragg stared in silence at the results, unsure of what to feel at that moment.

He should be elated, he thinks. He's done it. Argall’s heir has been found, the imperial bloodline having survived everything and once more secured. He's done Argall proud, he's sure of it.

Yet elation is not what he feels right now. Not even close.

Because the results are staring back at him, mocking, confirming you to be the great-great-granddaughter of Argall, claiming that your younger brother is as well (and solidifying the boy as your heir until a child is born).

Thragg stares at it and feels something come undone.

Would it be disloyal of him to admit he'd never wanted to step down? At the beginning, right after he'd been crowned Grand Regent right after Argall’s assassination, he'd been fine with it, knew it was expected of him to do so when an heir was found and proven worthy of sitting the throne. And how could he not be, when he'd been raised from birth knowing his place? When time after time he'd been told by Argall that Thragg only existed to lead should none of the man's heirs be found.

It hadn't even been guaranteed.

Once, when he was rather young, not even double digits yet he thinks, he'd asked Argall what would become of him should one of his heirs be found.

His Emperor had just looked down at him, gaze cold and stern, and said: “They will decide what becomes of you.”

Even as a child, Thragg had a good guess what that could mean. Because why would some discarded heir, come to reclaim their rightful place, let him live? Thragg had literally been created to be the strongest Viltrumite alive, Argall making his strongest warriors reproduce over and over until Thragg's parents had been born, then taking an egg and sperm and creating him in a tube. He'd been made artificially, experimented on since he was practically an embryo, the smart atoms that gave them their powers enhanced to the max, as much as the scientists could.

Even as a child, Thragg eclipsed some of the younger adults. And he only got stronger with age and training.

Regardless of any promised loyalty and obeisance, Thragg would be a threat to any heirs. And like any threat, he'd need to be culled.

For a short while, Thragg, like any child, was scared. He'd hid it, buried it, but he'd still been a child who'd pieced together that, should some imperial prince or princess appear and be considered worthy, his life would be forfeit.

He'd had some traitorous thoughts during that time period, praying to the past rulers that no heir would ever be found; looking back on those thoughts when he grew older, though, he'd been disgusted at his childish past self, promising he'd never do the same again.

Except he had.

Except when the Scourge appeared and wiped them down to endangered levels, Thragg had prayed once more for no heir to appear, for them to all have died. Because now wasn't the time for a change in leadership, it couldn't be– not to mention how he was still the undeniable strongest amongst them all. With their empire so weak, Thragg would be all that remained between them and any true threats. And despite that, any possible heir could still try to take him out, the only real threat to their rule.

For millennia, it had been a battle within himself. On one hand, his loyalty to the empire demanded he give up power and obey the emperor's commands, no matter what they may be– even to give up his own life.

But on the other… Thragg was ill, struck with a selfishness he did not truly have the words for. He'd been born this way, perhaps, sick from conception, filled with– with jealousy and envy and fear.

He wanted to live. He wanted to continue serving his people, his home. He wanted–

He'd wanted to be Argall’s heir. Somewhere deep, deep down, hidden with the few secrets he'd ever carried, Thragg wished he'd been born of Argall's seed, that the man hadn't just designed and ordered his birth, but that he'd actually had a personally hand in it. That the man was his sire and, unlike the other forgotten children he'd sired long ago, he actually chose to raise Thragg himself, saw the boy as worthy from the very beginning unlike those failures.

Of course, Thragg wasn't his son. Wasn't even descended of any distant relatives of the man. Instead his parents had just been normal Viltrumites– strong, high ranking, but still completely normal.

And it hadn't mattered in the end, anyway. All the rest had died and Thragg had been left to reign unimpeded, doing his utmost best to keep their empire stable, to continue the work of all who came before him whilst also trying to find a solution to the slowly approaching issue of their extinction.

But then you arrived.

You. Nolan's daughter– and Thragg was still grappling with the fact one of his strongest officers was of Argall's bloodline because of course, of course he was. It all made sense, why he'd survived the sickness despite being much worse off, much weaker; why he'd been so successful on every mission they sent him on.

Except this one, apparently. Thragg's lips twitched at that thought, wondering if your words were true or if this was some attempt to claim power ahead of succession. But why would you lie? And how? If you knew, then surely Nolan knew as well, because how else could you know?

It didn't make sense.

But you said you'd explain after the blood test. And…

There was the matter of that. The other thing you'd said. Offered.

Thragg had barely thought about it, didn't know how to think about this… unusual offer. Viltrumites didn't do partners, marriages; at most they stayed together or kept close contact until their offspring came of age. Mated Viltrumites hadn't been a thing in many generations.

But now the truth of your heritage was confirmed so Thragg had to think about it. And… he supposed being your mate and the sire of your heirs was a far better fate than allowing you to execute him. Which he wouldn't allow. No.

Perhaps centuries ago he would've, but Thragg did not trust some child to lead their people– his people. You knew nothing of Viltrum and its history, had been raised entirely human. No, Thragg would sooner cull you and your family than allow Viltrum to fall into the hands of someone unworthy. He didn't even know how well trained you were! If you were strong enough. It– no.

No, this was… however things went next… it was the only way, he realized. Your offer of consolidating power, of ruling together, was the only way for things to work out without bloodshed or betrayal.

Stepping away from the monitor, Thragg turned and went to seek you out.

After it was confirmed you were Argall’s heir, Thula and Kregg stayed by your side.

The tool used to take your blood– metal infused with Viltrumite bone and blood– was carefully removed from your arm by an alien medic, likely a slave, but… you'd ignore it for the time being. You needed to be responsible and realistic, careful; changing everything overnight wouldn't work.

Still, you gave them a slight smile as they did, murmuring a quiet thank you as they offered some cotton and a plaster, soaking up any drops until the wound closed.

By the door, Thula tilted her head at your words, but neither she nor Kregg said anything, just observing with something like loyal reverence in their gaze.

You'd known this would be a serious thing for them, but… you suppose you hadn't realized just how serious it was. Or you'd thought they'd treat you differently than they had Nolan in the other timeline. After all, they didn't know you or any of your feats, and you were a halfbreed.

Glancing to the side, you look through a glass window looking out into another room full of screens, spotting Thragg standing silently before them. He'd been there for quite a while now, just… staring.

“I suppose this is all a big surprise to you all.” You say after a moment, glancing towards the general and… whatever Thula was. If she even had a title.

A shared look, and then Kregg inclined his head.

“For the longest time, we'd lost all hope any heirs had survived. For you to be here… it is nothing short of a miracle.” He says, expression twitching as though he doesn't like using that word to describe this. It almost makes you smile.

Figures the cold, logical Viltrumite doesn't believe in miracles.

“Fair enough.” You murmur, glancing at the medics, watching them type a few things in, cataloguing this probably world changing event.

“My liege…” Thula speaks up suddenly, oddly tentative until you look at her, nodding for her to go on. “If I may ask… how did you know? In all the years I knew him, Nolan never seemed to know. And according to you, he still doesn't. So how?”

Kregg seemed to have the same question, looking at you silently and patiently, already so obedient towards you.

It was a little funny, considering the last time you'd seen him, he'd had a dozen wives and nearly as many kids, and had looked at Mark this was instead.

… was it bad you liked being looked at like you were important?

“Yes.”

The door leading to the monitor room opened, Thragg stepping out to join you.

“How did you know what no one else did? There isn't any way you could've possibly come across this information on earth.” He states, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out an answer to an impossible question.

You stand from the medical bed, briefly touching your hair before dropping your hand. No nervous ticks, you remind yourself. Not yet, anyway.

“There isn't an easy explanation for it… or a very believable one.” You murmured, glancing at the three Viltrumites. “Around ten years in the future, I was fighting in a war between Viltrumite factions.”

The three go still at your words, quickly catching on as you speak. And why wouldn't they, when the universe was vast and full of unnatural phenomenon? When technology barely distinguishable from magic could exist?

“During the final fight, I… I believe something latched onto me, sent me back in time into this body with all my memories in tact. It's hard to believe, but–”

“No,” Kregg gently cuts you off. “It isn't. We've come across some species capable of similar things. Not anything on the level you're describing, but it isn't too farfetched to believe.”

Thula nods. “When I was young, I and a select few others were sent to exterminate a creature that could reverse or fast-forward our ageing. A creature capable of sending you back in time is hardly the most ludicrous we've heard, my liege.”

To the side, Thragg twitches at the term.

You give a relieved sigh. “That's– that's good. I worried I'd have to prove I wasn't lying.”

“How did you discover the truth of your heritage, then? In this future of yours?”

Ah…

Taking a breath, you crossed your arms, adjusting yourself to face all three of them.

“My brother… he went up to space above Earth to greet someone he considered a friend– an ally. But that ally had come to infect Earth and the Viltrumites on it with an improved version of the Scourge Virus.” You say, and this time, there are gasps.

Thragg immediately turns furious at this information, while Kregg and Thula go solemn.

“He got infected.” You continue. “It was Thragg who saved him, quarantined him. During the healing process, blood was extracted and the truth was revealed.” You explain, glancing at the Grand Regent with something soft in your gaze.

Because no matter what had followed, Thragg had still been there, had still protected Mark and your home, had still acted to save him… until he hadn't. But that wasn't important right now.

“Anyway, now that it's been brought up… we need to deal with the Scourge Virus. It's not just a danger to Viltrumites, but humans and who knows what other species.” You say, shaking off those memories and focusing on the present. “Consider it my first order as empress.”

Like a switch has been flipped, Kregg stands straighter and salutes.

“Of course, my empress. I'll prepare the war room immediately.” He says, Thula silently nodding besides him.

You nod and thank him automatically (another flicker passing across their expressions as you do), then gesture them to go ahead, turning to Thragg.

“I believe the Grand Regent and I need to talk, first.”

They obey and leave you alone. The alien medics also become scarce, and now it's just you and the man who became your entire family's enemy.

Thragg looks down at you, awkwardness radiating off of him.

“You do not need to refer to me as Grand Regent, Empress.” He says tightly. “I am no longer–”

You hold your hand up. “You are still the Grand Regent, Thragg, whether or not we… become partners. Which… have you considered it?” You ask, unsure of what you want his response to be.

Obviously, it should be yes. Together, things would be much easier. You had hopes you could at least tame him a little, turn your enemy into… something. Make him loyal to you, at the very least. He'd hardly try to kill you or Mark if you had children together, now would he?

At least you hoped he wouldn't. But it was so hard to tell with the stoic Viltrumite.

Looking away, the Grand Regent nods. “I have. And…” Fingers flexing at his sides, Thragg can't help but mull over the fact he gets a choice. It hadn't occurred to him until now how odd it was. As empress, you could have anyone and anything you wished, yet… here you were offering him a choice to be your equal, no concern that he was the only threat to your throne at the moment.

(Though he'd never admit it, somewhere deep inside of him, there was still a part of Thragg that was the same little boy afraid of dying at the hands of somebody like you, and that part of him felt at ease at the realisation he was safe regardless of what he said next.)

Though still, the choice was obvious. If Thragg wanted to remain in power…

“I accept.”

He'd have to be by your side to have it.

With a small smile, you nod.

“Good. Now, I don't know if Viltrumites have ceremonies for this sort of thing, but… perhaps we should have one. To make sure everyone understands we'll be equals.”

Though it is a very un-Viltrumite suggestion, Thragg approves of it, agrees with it. A public ceremony where he was declared your mate would certainly be beneficial.

“Agreed. But perhaps after the new Scourge is dealt with.”

“Oh, definitely. Now… let's go, we have a mission to plan.”

The war room was prepared when you entered, the centre table projecting a map of Talescria already, along with some information displayed on the side.

Kregg and Thula obviously await you, but so do Elix, Anissa, and Lucan.

You… try not to look at Anissa. But nor do you not not look at her. You're trying to be normal towards her because she isn't the same woman who hurt your brother, the same woman who traumatized him so bad it out did everything else he'd ever been through.

This is a clean slate, you tell yourself, for everyone. Here… she won't do it. You'll forbid her. Tell her she doesn't have to reproduce until she's ready. Or introduce her to the man she'd taken as a mate anyway– what was his name again? Scott? You'd try and remember later.

As you step inside, they all stand at attention, Lucan– who hadn't been around for your arrival or the confirmation– gives you an assessing yet respectful look.

It was genuinely funny how obedient they were, how loyal they turned the second they knew whose descendant you were.

It was also a little awkward, because you'd never been on the end of these looks before, had never had such responsibility or power before. Last time, you'd been a hero through and through, only stopping when Robot took over and kicked you off the planet.

(You still hate yourself for letting him do that, do all of it. You hadn't realized how weak you were at the time, but now you know. If only you weren't… this. If only you'd just– tried harder.

Wasn't it pathetic, that you were the older sibling, the first to get their powers, and yet it had been Mark who went through everything?

God, you were such a shitty sister.)

But even then, even after you'd lived in space for ages, you never… really changed. Just acting like you always did until you were forced to change, to be more.

You wished you'd changed sooner.

But now you had a second chance and like hell were you messing it up. So shoving any awkwardness into the depths of your mind, you pretended like you had any experience or idea of what you were doing and began talking.

“Alright, I'm guessing Kregg and Thula caught you all up? Good. Now, Thaedus– yes, that Thaedus– has been busy since he killed Argall and then released the Scourge. Now he has an even stronger version, one that's far more deadly yet requires far less of it.”

Carefully, you tapped at the hologram, just about recalling how to use it. It zooms in on the main Coalition building.

“From what my father told me in the other timeline– I'll explain further if anyone has questions– Thaedus has a secret lab somewhere behind his office. There, the new Scourge Virus is contained.” It's a miracle your voice doesn't shake as you speak, but you try to focus more on getting the words out than anything else. Like the fact all these ancient Viltrumites are just… listening to you. Like you've always been in charge and didn't just appear.

That was weird, right–? No, no you can remember how they were when your dad was revealed. But that had been after they'd been on Earth for a while– doesn't matter. Focus.

Looking around, Kregg has his eye narrowed and hands clasped behind his back with Anissa in a similar position. Thula idly fiddles with her hair-blade, looking up to meet your gaze.

“Do we attack, my empress?”

You shake your head. “No, attacking would be the wrong move here. I want the Coalition to go as long as possible without realizing what has happened.” You say, thinking it over. How to do this, how to…

“I met with Thaedus before coming here. While he doesn't trust me and I don't trust him, he is aware I'd be trying to do something here, though I kept the specifics to myself.”

Having been silent so far, the Grand Regent and your… fiance, you suppose, makes a noise. “Good. I imagine if he knew the truth of your origins, he may have tried to end you too.”

“Without a doubt.” You mutter, then snap back into leader-mode. “Who is the most quiet and fastest flier?” You ask suddenly, an idea in mind.

Anissa stepped forward. “I am, my liege.” She says, bowing her head.

Oh, of course. You press your lips together, nodding. “Does the empire have any cloaking technology? Invisibility tech?” Kregg says they do. “Good. Anissa, I want you to sneak in and grab the Scourge Virus. Do not try to tamper or destroy it. One of you, find something you can fit a small vial into and that can be sealed up tight. No risks will be taken when our numbers are so low.”

Behind you, Thragg eyes you with slight approval. At least you were taking this seriously and not sending them on suicide missions already.

“Thaedus will probably realize before long what has happened, so…” You pause, think, heart drumming with so many eyes watching you, expectant.

“… order Conquest to come here.” You finally say, the plan lining up in your head. “I have need of him.”

Planning a heist (and yes, this was technically a heist) with a bunch of aliens who usually did things by punching right out the gate probably would've been harder if you, again, weren't Argall’s heir. But since you were, the Viltrumites were eager to follow your orders.

A little too eagerly, in fact. Almost zealously.

Not long after you'd explained the plan, Anissa was equipped with the tech necessary to not be detected, the mole on Talescria was told to turn off the sensors before she approached, and Conquest was informed that he'd be getting a very good fight soon.

“Do not hold back.” You order, trying to put that royal command into your tone. “I know you like to play with your enemies, but Thaedus is your age, correct? And he's no slouch. I'd know, I watched him wallop half of you myself.”

Conquest just grins that shark-grin of his. “Oh, don't worry, I can be serious. So, what should I expect? Any other orders, your majesty?”

The others bristled at his tone, but before anyone could say anything, you huffed, an amused sound that had many pausing, including Conquest.

“If Thaedus asks about me or how you knew he was there, claim I was interrogated and Thragg pieced it together. You're there to finish him off.” Crossing your arms, you look down at the map. “And with him, any knowledge of the Scourge should die out as well.”

That, at least, had Conquest looking a little more serious, nodding as he gives you a small salute and leaves, preparing to leave.

Once they left, and once it was just you in the room, you gasp and fall forward, panting as you grip the edge of the table, unable to believe you'd actually done that. It was just– god, it was hard to imagine, but you really hoped you got used to this whole empress thing soon. You didn't want to feel so off-balanced and anxious every time you spoke to anyone here, after all.

Slowly, you calm down and stand back up, sighing as you eye the projection. Slowly, you tap at the console, pulling up the image of Earth on it, fingers cold as your heart clenches.

“You did well.” Thragg's voice shocks you, making you look up, stunned you'd missed him standing in one of the corners.

Shit, he'd been here the entire time? Fucking idiot.

“Thank you.” You say, clearing your throat. “I… I'm glad you think so.”

He turns. “Oh?”

At his raised brow, you shrug. “I don't know what I'm doing, but you were raised for this, have been doing this forever. So… if you say I did well, then I certainly must have.” You say, offering him a slight grin.

Thragg eyes it, tilting his head slightly as he does. “Considering your lack of experience and education, you have done far better than other leaders I've witnessed across worlds. Yet still, you have much to learn.”

That I do. You sigh, nodding. “Yes, but… I have you for that. At least until I'm caught up.” You raise your hands. “I wouldn't… push all the work onto you. Or anything. I…”

Thragg watches you quietly, assessing. “You act oddly. I cannot put my finger on why, but around me you are different than with the others.” He observes, making you sweat a bit.

“… we fought, before. I watched you nearly kill my family during a war– not the one I mentioned, one before that. I'd be a fool not to be careful around you.”

Footsteps near silent as he crept towards you, Thragg’s dark gaze remained locked onto you, still assessing this new variable before him, trying to figure you out.

“You believe I'd harm you?” He murmurs, stopping before you. His skirt swishes once before falling still, brushing against your knee as it does. “You believe I'd turn traitor? That I'd harm my empress?”

Your lips twitch. “I've only been here an hour. I don't think that's long enough to earn your loyalty.” You whisper simply, looking up at him.

His eyes narrowed. “Then you do not know me. Nothing matters more to me than Viltrum, than our people.”

“No, I do know you, Thragg.” You whisper, eyes slowly lowering, taking in the features of the man you're tying yourself to for the rest of your life, just to keep everyone safe and happy. No more being selfish and avoiding trouble. “And that's why I am careful around you. Because you'd do anything if you thought it was for the good of the empire.”

With that, you turn and walk towards the door, needing some fresh air. And maybe to ask one of the others for a tour.

As Anissa and Conquest went on their mission, you started to plan your… coronation. Introduction. Thing.

Already the rest of the Viltrumites had been informed of Argall's heir being found and had been instructed to return soon to witness you properly be declared empress… and your union to Thragg.

Which was a whole other thing to plan for, even though it was happening right afterwards.

Kregg, being the highest ranking officer after Thragg and the most adept at organization and information gathering, had followed your request to find out about ancient Viltrumite mating customs. You figured if you were going to bind yourself to him, you'd do it properly. And with customs that, even if no longer done, would still be recognizable to your people and show you were trying to fit in despite being from Earth.

Though some customs–

“That won't be necessary,” you say, quickly gesturing for Thragg to stop taking off his furry cloak.

He pauses, yet lays it back over his shoulders. “It is tradition.” He says.

“Yes, I understand, but… I am Empress and therefore I can change things.” You say, mentally slapping yourself for how stupid that came out. “And it suits you far better than it would me, anyway.”

Something flickers across Thragg's expression at that, and the man glances away. “If you say so, my liege.”

Then, “What of your attire? Will you continue wearing… that?”

You looked down at your hero suit, freshly cleaned this morning. Every morning, actually, as the washing machines here were really efficient.

“Probably. Though I suppose I could wear some variations of the Empire's uniform with blue instead of red or silver.”

Thragg raises a brow at that. “Red is tradition, though. All emperors and empresses have worn it.”

You want to sigh, but refrain. “Again, the colour suits you more. And… why is change so bad? I like blue. It reminds me of my home, of the oceans and the sky. Blue is the colour of freedom.” You say with some passion, running your hands along your suit clad body, Thragg tracking your movements.

With another look away, the Regent simple nods. “If you say so, my liege.”

The next day, you woke up to a closet full of new clothes, all variations of the Viltrumite uniform and your own suit. You'd definitely stand out in them, but you supposed that was the point when it came to royalty; be above the rest, be different.

Though it wouldn't always be that way. You hoped to introduce more individuality to the Viltrumites soon-ish. More uniform options. More colours. Then, once they got to Earth, they'd be free to find their own styles.

Little by little, you'd break them out of their stone boxes and help them be people, not just soldiers. It helped that you'd already seen it was possible, had seen them with their partners and children, seen how they adapted to the domestic life.

But Thragg hadn't, you remind yourself. Which is the biggest hurtle you need to get past. He'd remained on that ship and away from everyone, unable to understand or see what the others meant when they reported to him. But…

You think even after everything, there was something more within him. You'd seen how he was with Ursaal, once. From a distance, you'd witnessed Thragg be the closest to soft he'd ever been. It had been but a brief moment, and he'd never done the same with any of his other children, but… it was something.

So you knew what you had to do. You hadn't acknowledged it much, but you knew. You just weren't looking forward to giving birth. Or… the pregnancy. Or even the sex. You'd never–

Unlike Mark and Oliver, you'd never… been interested in dating. Hadn't clicked with anyone. Sure, you'd masturbated plenty, had experimented by yourself, but you'd never even slept with anyone. Thragg was going to be your first, your one and only. Which would be romantic if you liked him, which…

He was handsome, and you liked his voice, but… you didn't like him. Not yet. But you could grow to like him. Hopefully.

But sex. Yeah, that was going to be interesting. You were fine with it! You just… hm.

It would really suck if you realized you were asexual right now. Like, really suck. Because you were a week from getting married and having to make a child with the man who'd otherwise seek to destroy everything you held dear.

No pressure.

Shaking your head, you push those thoughts aside for the time being. It would be fine, you could do it. It would be just like masturbation, but with another person. Nothing to be worry about.

For such a large planet, fifty Viltrumites was a paltry sum, but after a week of only seeing five or so others, it almost felt crowded.

Anissa and Conquest also returned, successful. The container within which the Scourge lied was carefully handled, and you instructed for it to be shot into the nearest sun that had no planets around it. Just in case.

Conquest, meanwhile, presented you with Thaedus’ head. It reminded you oddly of a cat bringing its owner a dead bird.

“Well done, Conquest.” You say, smiling down at him.

He perks up a bit, grinning wide. “It was my pleasure, empress. I haven't had such fun in ages.”

You eye the head. “I imagine you haven't. Pass the head to some of the servants. Tell them to put in a container for display.” It was macabre, but you figured quite a few Viltrumites would like to see it.

You felt a little bad for Thaedus, but… in the end, he never would've allowed you to do this if he found out. He'd wanted to end all Viltrumite life, including your family's, and you'd helped him in the war. The risk was simply too great in his eyes, that the evil of the empire could rise again from later generations.

But wasn't that just the natural order of things? Humanity was both good and bad, and you'd bet all other civilizations were as well; hell, you'd bet on anything that after the Viltrumite threat was dealt with, the Coalition would do the same as their oppressors once did. It was just the way of power, always flipping between good and evil.

But you'd live a long time, and during that time, you'd lead Viltrum on a path of goodness, betterment; then you'd raise your children to do the same, ensure their children were as well. You'd do your best to cement your beliefs into your bloodline.

It wasn't a perfect solution, and would fail some distant day, but it was better than what was currently happening.

But that was so far in the future you couldn't conceive it, so you'd focus on the now.

Your coronation came on a rare, cloudless day. Gathered in the great hall of the towering central palace, all the Viltrumites watched as you approached the dais.

For today, your outfit was special, resembling Thragg's quite closer with a few key differences. For one, you did not wear a cloak of any kind, instead, the back of your skirt was longer, trailing after you like a bridal gowns train; and instead of red, your uniform was accented with blue, going from light to dark further down your body.

On the dais, Thragg stood, watching you intently. You couldn't read him, had no clue what was going through his mind as you came to a stop beside him. Instead, you couldn't help but think about how much this resembled a human wedding, the bride approaching her groom.

Side by side, you stood, facing the crowd.

“Viltrumites!” Thragg’s voice rose, commanding and rich. “After many years of believing them lost, finally, Emperor Argall’s heirs have been found.”

You squared your shoulders, meeting the eyes of all the Viltrumites watching, breathing calmly and slowly as your heart pounded.

Just breathe. This is fine. You're not an imposter. You have to do this.

“Before you stands the eldest heir of Nolan,” he gives your name, and you find you like the way he says it. “After Nolan left his post, she came before us and proved herself as Argall’s blood, and with no other claimant to contest it…

“She has rightfully been declared Empress of Viltrum.”

Here, you step forward, swallowing once before opening your mouth to speak. You prepared, you went over it multiple times. There was no room or excuse for error.

“My Viltrumites, I know you do not know me, but I'm sure by now you've heard the rumours. Yes, I carry the memories of a future undone. I know the fates of everyone in this room, and I wish to deliver them to you in far better circumstances than before. I have seen what our empire could be, what we can be, and by the best of my ability, I will guide you towards that fate.

“But I am still young and inexperienced, and because of that, I will be taking Grand Regent Thragg as my mate and equal; my consort. It was he who my ancestor, Emperor Argall, deemed fit to rule in the absence of his descendants. And he has proven himself worthy again and again.” You tilt your head towards him, Thragg and you sharing a look that almost feels charged– important. “From us, the future rulers of Viltrum will carry both royal blood and his perfected strength. Together, we will rule and create a better future for all under our reign!”

And then, as one, the Viltrumites fell to their knee, bowing to you.

At the sight of their completely obeisance, you released a small breath of relief, a smile flickering on your lips.

Then you looked over and saw Thragg saluting, fist over his heart, but not kneeling; no, as your equal, he'd never bend a knee towards you. Which was for the best. You felt it would smart at his pride to do so if you made him.

Now that that was over… time for a mating ceremony… and the consummation.

When it came to the customs you could use for this ceremony, you'd chosen the most suitable one for the society Viltrum had become. Nothing showy or excessive, but something primal and simple.

With a Viltrumite bone blade, you and Thragg cut one another before everyone. For the emperor– or empress in your case, your brow would be cut, thin lines in the shape of the Viltrumite rune for loyalty.

For the mate (never consort– before Thragg, no ruler had ever made their mate their equal), they'd lower their garment and bare their chest, the rune for devotion carved between and right above his pectorals.

It symbolized the power dynamics, of course. Loyalty from the people to the crown, and devotion to the people from the crown.

As blood dripped down your bodies, Thula– the only one who remembered when this custom was still employed– approached with a long stretch of silver cloth. With each end, she dabbed away your and his blood before tying it around your wrists, binding you together literally and figuratively.

The silk would not come off until a full 24 hours had passed, during which he and you would be trying for an heir.

Which is what you went to do soon after ordering everyone to rest and wait your command. Viltrumites didn't do celebrations or feasts anymore– and even in your ancestor's reign, it hadn't been often– but for this? You figured it was called for, and had (kindly) ordered the servants to prepare something hearty and filling for them to enjoy after all the work they did.

As your people enjoyed themselves for once, you and Thragg silently made your way to the imperial bedchambers, which… Thragg had been using this entire time. You'd taken the one right across from him, insisting he stay there until the ceremony. Because now… you'd be sharing. Probably. If he asked you to leave you would, but… since it was Thragg, who knew?

As you entered the room, Thragg walked over to a desk, the silk just being long enough so you both weren't attached at the hip. He started a timer, 24 hours beginning to count down.

“Wasting no time, huh?” You murmur, toeing off your boots and flying off the ground, not wanting the dress’ train to drag anymore.

“I am merely keeping track of how long we must be here.” He says, eyeing you for a moment, gaze dragging low before lifting to your brow. Gently, he reached out, thumb swiping the scabbed over cut. You wince, and he quickly drops his hand.

You swallow and look around, taking in the bare-bones room. Jeez, you'd really left your cozy bedroom at home for this? The thought makes you snort a bit, catching Thragg's attention.

At his look, you shrug. “It's nothing, just… Viltrumite decor is… very different from what I'm used to. Very… empty and cold.”

The Grand Regent mulls that over, then offers, “I could provide more blankets, if you desire.”

Despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach, you smile.

“That would be nice.” You whisper, glancing at the bed.

As the silence dragged on, Thragg stepped closer, following your gaze before looking down at you.

“You are nervous.” He states, frowning. “Why?”

“I've… never done this before. Ever. It's just a little daunting.”

He nearly scoffs, laying a hand on your shoulder. “There is nothing to be afraid of. It is sex, nothing more.”

Smiling wryly, you rise up a bit to meet his gaze. “That is exactly what I'm afraid of. On Earth… people have sex for more than just reproduction. And… I worry it will hurt.” He makes a face, so you add: “And before you say Viltrumites aren't supposed to fear pain, it's different for me. You'll be inside me. I've…”

You sigh, looking towards one of the tall windows and outside. As you do, Thragg observes you for a moment, a mix of feelings warring within him.

While he'd never sired an heir, he had bedded women before, and none of them had ever shown fear. Then again, you were raised on earth, and as you said, it was different.

And… he supposed he was rather big. Did that instill fear within you? If so, Thragg would prove there was nothing to fear from him.

No. His empress, his mate, would not fear his touch. Not when it would lead to the first pure Viltrumite child born in centuries.

So, with awkward gentleness, Thragg lays a hand on your waist and guides you to the bed he'd be sharing with you from now on, at least until you were pregnant. After that, he'd follow your example.

His cloak came off and he laid in on the bed, eyeing you thoughtfully before deciding what to do next.

You watched in silence, allowing him to touch you. His palms, an eerie mix of coarse and smooth, stroked your sides, making your breath catch. Then he cupped your breasts through your clothes, almost clinical as he felt them. Yet you were still reacting, body heating up and interest pooling in your belly.

Hands gliding lower, he pulled up your skirts, reaching for the hem of your pants. You gulped, squeezing your eyes shut as you lifted yourself, letting Thragg pull them and your underwear down with a quiet sound.

Your skirts fell back down, keeping you covered for the moment.

Thragg did the same to himself, and you got a good look of his dark hairy legs as he pulled down his pants, his inner thighs oddly waxed smooth. Huh, you didn't peg him for the type.

Then you glimpse his cock and freeze.

Oh.

It… hm.

It was frighteningly big, but… you had used sex toys before, and space offered a larger variety than Earth ever did. You'd… tested your limits quite thoroughly in the future-past.

And Thragg’s member was around the size you liked to play with regularly.

Beneath his skirts, the shape was obvious, a soft bulge you couldn't look away from. You wanted to touch it, oddly enough. A first for you when it came to anything real.

His hands were on you again, guiding you to lay back– onto his cloak, head on the pillows. You looked up as he kneeled on the bed, pushing your knees apart and lifting your dress. You just breathed through it, fingers gripping the fur trim of his cloak as Thragg opened you up to his gaze.

It was silent as he eyed you, and you flinched when a thumb spread you open, ticklish.

“I'm fine.” You quickly assured him. “Just… ticklish.”

Your mate just tilted his head, then reached for the bedside table. From within, he pulled out lubricant, thoroughly coating his fingers in it before– oh. Oh.

He was touching you. Full on.

You didn't have any references for the sensation, just that it was different. His fingers were bigger than yours, slippery as they nudged through your shut folds, thumb finding your hooded clit and beginning to coax it open.

Your unaroused state didn't matter to him, as Thragg was quick to wake your body and get you aroused. You just laid back and enjoyed it as much as you could, even if it felt weird to just… do this.

You wouldn't say it felt uncomfortable or unnatural, just… weird. Whenever you observed the couples in your life, they always made it seem like a– like a dance. A bit of flirting, a certain look, some unsaid words, and then they'd go off to have sex. And you'd never figured out that dance, never clicked with someone enough to learn it.

Yet here Thragg was, rubbing circles on your clit and feeding your hole his fingers. Just like that. No dance, no flirting, not even a kiss– just straight to business.

You weren't sure it's what you needed this entire time, but you were liking it well enough.

Instead of thinking about your sexuality crisis, you instead focused on the wetness between your legs, finding yourself panting as his fingers shlicked between your lips, stretching you open and stuffing you with two, three, four fingers.

“‘m close,” you mumbled, Thragg glancing up before focusing more on your clit, keeping up his pace until you were squeezing and dripping around his fingers, a soft, breathless groan leaving you.

He stroked your insides a few times before pulling out, moving back and taking his skirt off. Lucky. Yours was attached to your shirt, so you just laid there, watching, a pleasant buzz in your limbs and crotch.

So, getting fingered wasn't too bad, but could you do the whole thing? You really hoped so. The sooner you had a baby (and god were you actually dreading it, but for the greater good and all that) the better.

As you continued laying there, you got comfy on the silky cloak, watching Thragg move on top of you, cock shiny with lube as he guided it to your loosened hole.

“Are you ready?” He asks, the first he's spoken in what feels like forever.

You take a breath. “As I'll ever be.”

Then he starts to push in and oh, oh it's the same as your toys, just warmer and a different texture. Thank fuck. But also ow, because this body was all virgin, and you feel something pop beneath the pressure of him pushing in.

Eh, you'd already popped your own hymen last time. Big deal.

But then that too fades and all you feel is full. His cock is a hefty weight within you as he nestles deep, staying there as you adjust, pulse jumping within your walls; you wonder if he can feel it too.

Above you, Thragg remains put together and stoic, yet as you look closer, you can tell he's effected as well, jaw clenched and brows knitted together. He exhales deeply through his nose, eyes on the slight bulge in your belly.

It does nothing for you, but for him? It does a lot.

Licking your lips, you hum to catch his attention. “You can move now.” You whisper, the timer in background showing not even a thirty has gone by. Fuck. “Let's make an heir, Thragg.”

That does it. The veneer of carefully held together stoicism crumbles as Thragg pulls back his hips and thrusts forward, the sounds almost disgusting as he pumps into you, slick and wet and loud, lube connecting your bodies in thick strands of translucent gel.

He lowers himself, chests nearly rubbing together as he slides a hand beneath your head, holding you still as he fucked into your willing body, carving through your pliant flesh and knocking against that turn within you; at another angle, he might've been able to directly hit your cervix, and you shudder to know what that would feel like. Bruises might be the least of your concerns with him.

As he fucked you, your eyes glazed over, half-lidded and fixed on the ceiling, tracing the faint grooves where the metal had been melded together. You focused on it, needing a distraction from how much this all was. He was so… everywhere. He covered you completely, and his hands were so big, and his cock was making your poor insides throb, stretched thin and still adjusting as he battered away at your cunt, speeding up as he got closer to an orgasm.

When he did, you shut your eyes, shuddering, the foreign sensation of liquid spilling inside of you something you weren't expecting, though you obviously should have.

But it wasn't over. Not even close.

You still had 23 hours and ten minutes to go.

Eyes heavy, you weakly hold onto Thragg as he lifts you, carrying you towards the en-suite bathroom, the both of you reeking of sweat and sex.

After 24 hours of sex, rest, and rehydrating (food being less of a concern due to your Viltrumite metabolism), it was finally over. Thank fuck.

As the large blocky bath was filled, you prayed you were pregnant already. You'd… what was it… done it around sixteen times? It was definitely more than twelve but less than twenty. It… got a little blurry after you fainted. Thragg has just kept going, not that you minded, but jeez. You should've guessed he had a breeding kink.

Anyway, you hoped you wouldn't have to do this again anytime soon. Sex was… fine, quite fun, but you didn't have any interest in it like others seemed to. All the other couples you knew couldn't keep their hands off of each other, meanwhile you'd prefer to keep it for special occasions. Or more baby-making.

As the bath was filled, Thragg reached for the cloth binding you together, untying it from both his and your wrists.

It fell to the ground in a flutter, filthy from dried blood and sweat.

The tap automatically stopped once the bath was filled, and Thragg stepped in, lowering himself with you in his arms still. As the cool water touched your skin, you whined, quickly submerging yourself in it.

Hot skin cooled down and sweat was washed away. Thragg watching as you lowered yourself until only your eyes were above water, tiredly watching him back.

You idly blew bubbles, making him raise a brow. But he doesn't say anything, instead grabbing a washcloth and beginning to scrub away all the dried sweat.

You watch, idly shifting on your feet, kneeling in the tub. God, when had you last gone swimming? You wondered if there was a pool here, or a lake. You'd love to swim a bit, maybe get some of the other Viltrumites to join, start working on lowering their rigid walls and make people out of them.

As he cleans himself, Thragg watches you, some curiosity shining in his dark eyes.

“Fertilization usually takes a week to occur.” He tells you suddenly, cupping his hands in the water and washing his face with it. “By the end of this one, we will check if you're pregnant. If not, we try again.”

You rise a bit. “Okay. Until then… what are my duties, exactly?” You ask. “I doubt there's a lot of signing papers involved.”

A low hum as he thinks, Thragg passes you the cloth after soaking it in the water. “No, but being leader means regularly looking over updates regarding planets under our control and their products. How much they've made, how much they're sending, if there's been any troubles… things of that sort.”

“Oh.” You blink, wiping away the blood from your brow, cut completely healed. “That's… less than I was expecting.”

He watches you in silence for a bit, simply soaking in the soothingly cool water. “After the Scourge Virus, we didn't have the numbers to continue as we once did. For the more loyal planets, I allow them to mainly run themselves. Though at any sign of betrayal or any with proof that they're giving less than agreed upon, a Viltrumite officer is sent to… remind them of the status quo.”

You wipe between your legs, labia sealed up for now so all the cum he'd filled you with would stay in– heighten your chances and whatnot.

“Fair enough. I have no complaints about that system. We'll keep it like that for the time being.” You say, trying to put yourself back into the empress role. But it was so hard, you weren't used to it.

Yet. You weren't used to it yet, but you will be. You had to.

“Now… why does Viltrum still look so…?” You gesture outside the window.

Grimacing, Thragg grabs some shampoo, focusing on washing his hair as he answers. It made this moment feel significantly more domestic than before, which just made you overly aware of yourself and this whole thing.

Looking away, you grabbed some as well, beginning to run it through your hair.

“After the Scourge, many of the native fauna died off, and the numbers have since struggled to increase.” Thragg explains behind you, voice echoing off the empty walls.

“Can't something be done? Introduce alien species that are similar?” You ask, glancing out the window at the smoggy sky. “At the very least some plants. Or some tech to clean the air.”

The sounds of scrubbing pause. “It… such things aren't what Viltrumites focus on.” He says stubbornly.

You glance back at him. “Well, we do now.” You say, narrowing your eyes a bit. “This is our home, the heart of our empire, and it looks like shit. I'm not bringing a new generation into this world when the sky is so filthy.” You state, ducking your head under the water to get most of the suds out.

Resurfacing, “So we're going to fix it. Let's make Viltrum glorious once more.”

Behind you, Thragg rinsed his hair with a small jug, staring down at his murky reflection.

“… as you command, my empress.” He says soft yet determined.

The first order of business was cleaning and rebuilding.

Though Viltrumites themselves didn't have the tech, one of their conquered planets did. So you requested their help personally, explaining things despite the way the others (Thragg, Kregg, and whomever else was around at the time) cringed at you revealing some of the truth to their subjects. It made them look weak, they argued, which you understood.

But there's only so long they could pretend. And this? Asking nicely and actually treating your (forced) subjects like people? That was laying the groundwork for a better empire.

The people who came to help upon your request were Ilithians, a people with pastel, leathery skin like elephants, glass-like spikes along their head, and black eyes.

You greeted them personally, shaking the head Ilithan’s hand and introducing yourself. You ignored the way your Viltrumites tensed at your very un-Viltrumite actions, focusing on these aliens and their reactions.

Within moments, they were speaking to you without fear or worry, following you around as you explained what you wanted from them. While they still flinched and cowered around the others, you'd quickly cemented yourself as a good Viltrumite to them.

And, being the Empress, that meant they were very safe with you around.

Afterwards, the head Ilithian– Grehz– informed you they'd be able to clean the air within just a month. You thanked them kindly as they immediately got to work, and informed Kregg to lower their tax rate by 20% for the next two years.

“But, my liege–” he tried to protest, but you just held up a hand.

“They are helping us.” You said slowly. “And they've seen the state we're in. This is both thanks and incentive for them to keep it to themselves. Trust me, Kregg, this will work.”

(And it would.

The Ilithians would remember this first act of kindness from the new Empress of Viltrum for years to come. And, in many years time when you gave the option for them and the other planets to stay within the empire or leave it, they'd be the first to accept staying, though under much kinder and freer rules.)

After the Ilithians, you met up with a few other alien species. The Xa’ar, aquatic space explorers whom had discovered many alien fauna (and therefore could suggest some to repopulate Viltrum with); the Krekens, a solid cloud-like species with the innate ability to control the weather (asked to help the newly planted trees and flowers grow in controlled yet open environments); and the Drahar, a reptilian people who spoke through sign language and the neural implants since their species never evolved to talk (but they did have quite a few insects that not only resembled ones native to Viltrum in the past, but also were far more efficient from selective breeding done centuries ago).

By the end of all these meetings and after they'd all finished helping, four months had nearly passed, and Viltrum had never looked healthier.

Flying over an abandoned city, you stared down at the rows of flowers that grew along the streets, adding a pop of colour to the otherwise steely landscape.

As you stopped and hovered, eyeing the vibrant forests and crystal blue waters, you heard somebody come up behind you.

“While I do not deny your methods have paid off, I still do not like them.”

Turning, you gave Thragg a lazy smile, your consort looking around slowly, drinking it all in.

“That's fine. I'll be the carrot, and you can be the stick.” You say, confusion plain on his face.

“I do not understand that analogy.”

Sighing, you flew down to a lake, peering down at the fish swimming in it.

“It means I'm kind and give them incentive to do things for us. If that doesn't work, you, the stick, force them to.” You explain, bending down to stick your fingers into the water, fish nipping at them.

He just watches from above, mulling that over. He still disagreed with your methods, but he understood it. He just didn't like it.

But you were the empress, and though he was your consort, your word was still final. Not that Thragg wanted to fight you on any of the decisions you've made so far. No, he'd keep that for another day, when you did something he truly disagreed with, something he couldn't abide by any means.

Coming out of his thoughts, Thragg watched you rise up, skirts fluttering in the wind. You smiled, tilting your head back and enjoying the sun and breeze. For some reason, he couldn't look away at that moment, something about you ensnaring him.

Perhaps it was that peaceful smile on your face. Or the white and blue of your outfit making you look like a part of the sky.

Or perhaps it was the faint curve of your stomach beneath your uniform that had him like this.

You hadn't fallen pregnant that first night, nor a week later when you tried again.

But on the third try, weeks after you'd been declared empress, the scanners showed your egg had been fertilized, and after a month went by, it was safe to declare you were pregnant.

It was still early on, you'd only just finished your first trimester (though neither you or Thragg knew if you'd only carry for nine months like a human or the full twelve of a Viltrumite, so for now he'd prepare for an earlier birth), but it was still important, still something to be proud of.

After the Scourge, for a few decades, they'd struggled to conceive. Though their numbers weren't enough for a healthy breeding pool– the males outnumbering the females 2-to-1– they had still tried to up their numbers a little.

After numerous miscarriages, a few women managed to have offspring that survived past infanthood. But that was all they had managed. Just a few.

So yes, while there was still room for failure, for a miscarriage to occur, Thragg still felt proud. This was the first pregnancy in millennia. The first child of a new generation. His child. A royal child.

How could he not be proud?

You glanced over at him, still smiling softly as you turn your body to face you.

“What are you thinking about?”

His eyes flicked down to your belly, making you hum.

“Ah.” You nod, looking around for a moment. “Are you… excited?”

Excited? Thragg thought for a moment before tentatively nodding. “I suppose I am. This child's existence marks a new era for our people, a new beginning for Viltrum. It is hard not to feel some form excitement with that in mind.”

A huff escapes your lips, and you cross your arms. “For the baby itself, Thragg. Forget everything else for the moment: are you excited at all to have an heir?”

That made him stop.

“… I… am honoured–”

Again you huff, this time turning away. Thragg isn't sure what he said wrong.

Frowning, the Grand Regent flew closer, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“I have misspoke.” He states despite not knowing how. “I apologize.”

You groan, tilting your head back. “Don't. You don't mean it, I know you don't.”

He frowns.

“You aren't making sense.” He states simply, not understanding what you wanted from him, watching your expression scrunch up before you pouted, then sniffed as your eyes watered.

Ah. Hormones. That explained things.

Even Thragg knew that women weren't themselves when pregnant, emotions all over the place. For Viltrumites, it often meant they were prone to violence.

For you, it meant you got upset easily.

Thragg hated it.

With a grimace, he reaches for your face, cupping it and thumbing away the tears.

“I apologize, my empress.” He whispers, meaning it. You were in a delicate state, carrying the heir to the throne, he should be gentler with you. “I did not mean to take such a tone with you.”

You sniffle, waving him off. “It's fine. Just– emotions. I know you didn't mean it.”

Cupping your other cheek, he makes you look at him, hesitating, struggling to get the words out.

“It isn't fine. You are… you have been here for a short time, and yet you've already done what I never considered, and you are in the process of giving me a child.” As he spoke, his ears burned, not used to speaking like this. “That is… I am thankful beyond words. I…”

He struggled, trying to– he'd never had to comfort somebody before, never wasted words before. Yet here he was, trying to speak like you, trying to offer his emotional mate some comfort after you merely asked if he was excited to have a child.

For him, it was just a duty. But clearly if you were asking this, it meant more to you.

“I am happy.” He finally forced out, eyes snapping open and staring into yours. “I am… not excited, but I await their birth eagerly.” He said, clearing his throat as he lowered his hand to your midriff, stroking gently.

The tension that had gathered in your shoulders disappeared, and Thragg felt he'd said the right thing.

Then, you laid a hand over his own, both of you cupping your slightly rounded stomach.

As another breeze came by, Thragg felt at peace.

After a while, you began flying back together. On the way to the palace, you spotted some Viltrumites dotted around, enjoying the change in environment, sitting on the grass or by the rivers, taking a break before it was time for their shifts.

Absentmindedly, you slowed a bit, flying behind Thragg before moving around him, circling him as he flew.

He just watched, keeping track of you.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you flew up, fell, and caught yourself.

“Nothing, just having fun.” You say, glancing over at him. “Are you also going to ask what that is?”

Thragg scoffs in response. “I know what fun is, empress. I just do not see how what you're doing is considered it.”

You eyed him in silence for a moment. Then–

Pap.

Your hand lightly batted his chest and you flew back, creating some distance between you two.

He paused, narrowing his eyes. Then, when he went to approach you, you flitted away once again. Again, Thragg paused before shooting towards you, trying to grab you. And again, you moved out of the way, grinning.

“This is childish,” he called, flying after you anyway.

“Sure, but you're still playing along!”

Around the towers, under a bridge, between the trees; you flew with Thragg on your tail, the older Viltrumite doing his best to catch you, scaring you a few times when he flew ahead and appeared out of nowhere, startling a squeal of fearful delight from you.

Despite himself, he began to smile, seeing this half as a game, and half a way to test your skills. So he upped the challenge, getting faster and faster, the both of you racing through the abandoned city, just narrowly avoiding colliding with anything.

But finally, the chase came to an end with Thragg catching you, spinning with you laughing in his arms. He smiled at the foreign sound, insides warming at it.

Yet it also distracted him from redirecting his course, meaning the both of you slammed into a nearby pool, completely fine if extremely soaked.

As he sat up with you still held to his chest, you giggled, sitting up carefully, wiping wet hair from your face. As you did, Thragg felt enraptured once more, staring at you.

What was this feeling he felt? You were smiling, eyes sparkling, and he–

With unusual tenderness, Thragg swept some wet hair behind your ear, sitting up slowly with you in his lap.

“We have made a mess,” he said without any of his usual attitude, looking only slightly annoyed.

You giggle again. “Yeah, but it was fun, right?”

He makes a noncommittal sound. Fun… he supposed it had been.

Carefully, you stand up, skirts soaked and heavy. You awkwardly gather them up, trying to wring the water out.

“We should do this again.” You say, Thragg standing and doing the same. “It's– I miss flying like that. Me and my brother used to do it often after he got his powers…”

“Then we shall.” Thragg declared simply. If a simple flight and chase was all it took to make you smile like that…

Then how could he refuse? Plus, it was still a form of training. So if anyone questioned you (which they would not), there was a perfectly good excuse answer right there.

You gave him another one of those soft yet beaming smiles of yours, making his heart do something odd.

As you began flying back to the palace, Thragg placed a hand to his chest, utterly confused on that reaction.

Time stretched on, passing by when busy then dragging its feet when you were not.

Considering how terrible the Viltrumites had been so far, being diplomatic towards all the species they'd conquered was like a walk in the park. Being a new face and kind of the bat– plus being the leader– ensured that every meeting you held went damn near perfectly.

Who knew that being treated with basic decency after years of slavery and cruelty would make people agreeable to your terms?

(Just in case it wasn't obvious, you were being sarcastic.)

Aside from the work aspect of being empress… you were also trying to get the Viltrumites to be people. As you keep saying you would.

The first thing you did upon learning Conquest lived on a fucking cube on a nearby moon was give him an apartment near the newly planted woods, and encourage him to try and tend to the plants.

‘Capable of so much more’ he said, right? So here's the more. Enjoy.

Jokes aside, it did seem to be going well, and seeing the so-called ‘mad dog of Viltrum’ treat little plants tenderly at least made the other Viltrumites less disgusted/wary of him. You'd even seen him and Thula having a calm chat the other day.

Conquest was the easiest to… was rehabilitate the right word? You were going to use it regardless. Anyway, he was the easiest since he… did actually want to change and want to be more. A small bit of purpose as something other than a vicious killer later, and he was chilling.

You knew Thula had been rather social on Earth, having relationships even outside of her husband and children. And you also knew Kregg had fallen in love with earth vehicles and therefore mechanics, something that, as a Viltrumite, he'd had no reason to mess around with before. But on Earth, he'd been allowed to learn what he wanted, do what he wanted.

So… how the fuck do you encourage that here?

As your pregnancy progressed, you asked some of the older Viltrumite women for help, those like Thula having had many children before– not that they had cared for them.

(Which made you wonder how they'd look back on those unloved children they had once they changed on Earth. Would they mourn them finally? Regret not being better? Wish they could've loved their previous children the way they deserved?

… you were going to need to invest in therapy for your people, weren't you?)

That, at least, provided them with socializing plus you got to teach them a bit about Earth in the process– information they'd need once they were sent there. Which they would be soon-ish. After the child was born, at least.

After some consideration, you asked Thragg if he'd be okay with sharing a room permanently, to which he readily agreed. Odd, since you took him for the type to like his space. Then you started to turn your old room into a nursery for the little one.

“We have not used one of these in centuries,” El-nor said as a crib was brought out. She was a young looking Viltrumite with dark skin and brown hair, with a smooth voice. “I'd forgotten how small these were.” She murmured, brow creasing.

“Of course they are.” Thula said, standing guard besides you, peering over your shoulder as you looked through a datapad of items, ordering them to be brought here. “Babies are often small.”

“I am aware of that. I just…”

El-nor went quiet, lips pursing a bit. She shook her head and continued helping the others move things about.

They'd asked why you didn't have the slaves doing it, to which you responded: “Bonding experience. On Earth, women often come together to celebrate and help with pregnancy and children.”

They hadn't asked again, simply doing as their empress wished.

Finishing setting up some bookshelves, Anissa looked towards you, glancing at your baby bump with some odd emotion.

“I do not know how you do it, my liege.” She said. “Being with child seems so… uncomfortable.”

Elix snorted, hovering by the windows and putting up curtains.

“Do not speak of discomfort when you haven't even had one child before, Anissa.” She said, flying down and looking to you for your opinion. And your thanks and praise for how good the curtains look, the woman lightly flusters, unused to your praise. “The Empress is doing her duty. She should be praised for it.”

“It's not too bad.” You say, cutting in before any kind of argument could start. “And human women have it way worse. My mother threw up every time she smelled cooked meat, wine, or oil when pregnant.”

A few grimaces were given at that. You just nodded.

“Yeah, not to mention the childbirth… ugh.” You shudder, rubbing your belly. “Anyway, thank you all for indulging me with this. It was very kind of you.”

Anissa looked away, embarrassed. “I'd rather do this than spend another moment flitting between Kez-hark and Ulthur again.”

El-nor just gave a slight salute. “Anything for you, empress.”

Elix once again went pink in the cheeks. “As you say, my liege.”

A change in uniforms was next. Offering more options, both in cut and in colouring, was the first step to individuality.

The first new option was the inverse of the current uniforms: silver with white accents.

Then, a hooded uniform and one without the skirt/loincloth. Then you designed a uniform with a more prominent skirt for those that desired it.

Next was colours. For now, you'd keep red and blue as the imperial colours, but for the rest…

A black version of the Viltrumite uniform was added, then white with gold accents– this you ordered made by clothes printer, sending Kregg, Thula, and Conquest one each. And then, because the machine’s interface actually allowed quite some room to mess around, you created two variations of the classic uniform, but with the empire's symbol being opposing gradients; one being the cool colours of dusk, and the other the warm colours of dawn.

It would be a while before anyone wore them willingly or without order, but they were there if anyone wanted to express themselves.

You also crested a bunch of baby clothes. Because like hell were you going to have your child in plain white.

Or, rather, children.

Because as you and Thragg went to your monthly check-up, you were informed that there were two babies in your womb. Twins.

Ursaal and Onaan, you thought instantly, wondering if Thragg was always destined to have twins. It seemed likely, especially since you were you and not their Thraxan mother.

“How was this not noticed sooner?” Thragg asked after getting over his shock.

The medic hesitated under his gaze before slowly showing the previous screenings.

“The second one was hidden, Grand Regent. The first, the girl, covered her brother up.”

His face tightened as he looked at the screen, taking in the grey-scaled images of his heir. Heirs.

Two. Two in one. Twins.

He still couldn't wrap his head around it.

“And you didn't notice anything else? Perhaps that her vitals were off, that you were picking up on an unusual amount of… of something for a singular child?”

“Thragg.”

Your voice stopped him. He slowly turned, meeting your gaze as you laid back on the medical bed, hand on your baby bump.

No wonder it had grown so fast. There were two in there.

“Breathe.” You instruct, and embarrassingly, he listened, following your gentle order until he was calm once more. “Better, now,” you turned towards the medic, “what else have you learned?”

Thragg listened to the rest with split attention, mind running wild with the fact you were carrying twins.

Being so long-lived, it was a miracle Viltrumites could breed at the rates they did. If a Viltrumite woman wished, she could have one baby every year and only stop once she approached death.

Despite that though, it was rare for multiples during a pregnancy. Twins had always been rare, triplets even more so. Anything more had been practically unheard of.

Thinking back on it, the last recorded pair of twins had been born exactly three years before the Purge. After that… none.

Until now.

Until you.

After the check-up was over with, Thragg walked you back to their rooms, hand on your lower back. He could not help himself, always finding himself touching you these days. Sharing a bed regularly had only made it worse, Thragg waking up to find your body intertwined with his.

He doesn't know what's come over him, doesn't know what you've done for him. Every since your smile made his heart jolt, he's been ruined, weakened.

And the worst part is he can barely find it within himself to care. Not when he's around you, not when he looks at the file regarding his child– children's growth and looks at the little images, replaying the recording of their heartbeats.

It's only when he's away that he can speak sense to himself, wondering aloud to Argall's skull if he was right to feel this way. You were the man's distant granddaughter after all. If you instilled these feelings into him, surely they were fine?

In their rooms, you flop onto the bed with a groan, rubbing your lower back.

He watches, amused, before approaching and beginning to circle that spot with his fingers, listening to you groan in relief.

After you've gone limp, he lays down beside you, staring up at the ceiling.

“We are having twins.” He states, needing to say it aloud. It makes it feel more real when he does.

“We–” you grunt, rolling over with some trouble, “– are. A boy and a girl, too. How lucky.”

He hums, hands folded on his stomach. You watch him, chin propped up on a hand. Your cheeks have grown rounder, all of you has, really. He… tries not to stare, feeling oddly hot when he looks too long.

“Are you excited now?” You jokingly ask, blinking heavily, always tired these days.

“I am.”

You stopped. Blinked again.

Thragg turns his head to meet your gaze. “I am excited. Eager. Ecstatic.” He says, heart jolting again. “There haven't been twins in so long. And ours will be the first.” His tone is hushed, reverent, as he gives in to the urge to touch you, cupping your cheek again.

Your skin warms under his touch.

“You have given me a gift, my empress.” He whispers, watching your pupils dilate, lips parting as your breathing picks up.

Then you quickly lean away, sitting up.

“Let's go for a fly.” You suggest, shooting him a grin. It seems wobbly, unsure. “Come on, bet you won't catch me this time.”

Hundreds of thousands of miles away from Viltrum, Nolan Grayson stood with his (second) wife and (second) son, gazing down at the purple skinned baby and worrying. He was always worrying these days.

Worrying, and regretting.

It was only after he'd beaten his son bloody that Nolan realized he regretted everything.

Killing his friends, calling Debbie a pet, hurting you and Mark and so many other people.

Even Cecil, the old bastard. The man had been the first to offer his hand to Nolan, and he'd gone for his throat.

He regretted a lot of things, yet as he stood here with Andressa and their baby, he knew he didn't regret this.

Nolan knew he didn't have long after abandoning his post, so while Andressa was still pregnant, he sent a willing Thraxan to Earth to retrieve his children. Together, Mark and you would be able to defend this planet and it's people, defend their new brother.

It was selfish, and cruel, but he didn't have many choices.

Yet when the ship returned, only Mark came.

“Where's your sister?” Nolan asked, having instructed Nuolzot not to return without both his children.

Mark just looked away. “Gone.”

What? For a moment, Nolan was confused. What did he mean by gone– ? … no, no–

Like a cold bucket of water had been poured over him, Nolan suddenly had the horrible fear that he'd– that somehow you'd been–

“Mark, what do you mean she's gone?” He asked desperately, grabbing his son by the shoulders and shaking him. He couldn't have. No, no, no, not his baby–

“Woah! Hey, as in she left the planet!” Nolan froze. “A couple weeks after you… left, she did as well. Apparently she went to Viltrum.” Mark said, tone bitter and angry.

The words nearly knock him over.

Viltrum.

Oh, god, his untested daughter– they were going to–

“–ad? Dad!”

Nolan fell, grasping at his chest.

The weight of regret was crushing in that instant. One child on earth, another here, born from a race deemed lesser, and then his daughter, his only girl on Viltrum.

What had he done?!

Waking up, Nolan stared up at the blurry ceiling, quickly sitting up as he recalled his last few memories before he fainted.

When he looked over to the side, he froze, seeing Andressa and Mark together, the Thraxan showing Mark his new brother.

“… so he won't have a name until he is older.” Andressa said, explaining their customs. Then upon noticing he was awake, she smiled. “Oh, Nolan! We worried when you collapsed. Are you alright?”

Swallowing, he looks from his wife to Mark, his older son holding the purple baby, smiling awkwardly at him.

“I am, I was just… startled.” He got up. “Mark, what do mean your sister went to Viltrum? How does she even know where it is?” Did you even know where it is, or did you just rush ahead without thinking?

Shrugging, the young man awkwardly sat his new brother on his hip, not looking at his dad.

“It's… difficult to explain.” He says, looking around. “It– apparently she saw the future or something? Experienced it. She knew what you were going to do.”

What??

That– none of that made sense to Nolan, the man’s mind racing as he replayed those words over and over again until they clicked.

The future. His daughter had– somehow– time travelled.

This entire time you'd known what he was going to do, and you just… allowed it? He looked at Oliver suddenly, wondering if you knew about him– but of course you would, if… if you were from the future.

Emperor, this was all so confusing. Just how far from the future had you come? How much exactly did you know? And what exactly did you know that made you think going to Viltrum was the right move??

Watching his dad closely, Mark passed Oliver to Andressa, approaching his father slowly.

“Dad, what did you call me here for?”

That snaps Nolan out of his worrying, instead focusing back on the present. So he explains how Oliver was born without permission, that being half Thraxan, he'd be deemed as lesser and killed for it. And that soon Viltrumites would be sent to deal with him for abandoning his post, and that this world–

He explains it all as Mark listens, angry and annoyed and exasperated, yet reluctantly willing because no matter what, his son is a good man who just wants to save people.

In the end though, there isn't a fight.

Nolan trains Mark for a few days, his sons getting to know each other in the meantime, before a Viltrumite appears.

Yet… something is different. As the Viltrumite descends, becoming clearer, Nolan sees that it's Thula, and she's all alone. But more than that, her uniform is… different.

Against the stark white of her uniform, instead of silver is gold, bright and resplendent on her figure.

Since when did they change things? For as long as Nolan has remembered, white and silver have been Viltrum’s colours, with only the emperor wearing red instead.

So what has changed?

“I am not here to fight, Nolan,” Thula called out, swiftly taking in her surroundings. She sneers at the Thraxans, but otherwise does nothing else. “I have been sent instead to verify some information.”

Despite her words, Nolan didn't allow himself to relax or calm down. At his side, Mark remained tense as well, unsure of what to do.

Thula eyed him.

“You are the second child, then?” She says, making both freeze. Second…

“Where is my sister?” Mark immediately demands, shaking off his surprise. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing. She is currently on Viltrum. Do no worry, you will see her soon.” Thula says before turning to Nolan. “Am I correct to believe you've sired another child? One with these… people?” She grit out.

Heart pounding, he nodded. “I have.” He says, fists clenching at his sides, ready to fight; though she was a formidable warrior, it was still two on one.

Humming, Thula grimaced a bit before, reluctantly, “Then that is all.” She said, confusing them both. “I will report this to the empress. I recommend you both to return to Earth in the near future and to expect our arrival. The Empress plans to make a move soon.”

And with that final ominous warning, Thula shot off, leaving them standing there in confusion.

Slowly, turning to look at his dad, Mark asked, “Dad… what was that about?”

“I have no idea, Mark.” He whispered, watching her figure fade away. “None at all.”

Empress, he thought. Who was this empress? And where had she been found?

It felt like there was so much Nolan didn't know, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Some weeks later, as Andressa grew old, she'd pass her son to Mark, kindly asking him to take the boy back to Earth with him. Obviously, he was confused, wondering why Nolan was taking him. To which his dad simply told him that he couldn't return to Earth after what he did. Plus, he needed to find out about what happened to you.

Mark reluctantly agreed, and left Thraxa with his baby brother. Nolan remaining until Andressa peacefully passed. Only then did he begin the flight to Viltrum.

Falling in love wasn't a part of your plan. You didn't even know if you could. But making Thragg fall was. Or at least make him care for you. You didn't care for the specifics, only that he wouldn't betray or try to kill you and your loved ones.

It was why you were here, married to him in all but words and carrying his children. You were going to fix the Viltrumites, you were going to fix Thragg, you were going to fix everything.

You needed to after all the times you hadn't helped the first time round.

It was like fate found it amusing, having Mark always go through the worst things imaginable while you were away with something else, something less important.

While he was getting his guts splattered by Battle Beast, you'd been cleaning up a nuclear waste site. While he'd been getting beat up by your dad, you hadn't even known until it was too late, busy with some small Kaiju in the Arctic, rushing to be there just in time to see him loaded onto the helicopter.

You think that event had been the catalyst. The event that made you stop trying so much.

Because in some twisted way, instead of feeling the urge to protect your brother and be there for him after seeing him so beat up, you'd instead felt like there was no point in trying.

You'd become complacent, cowardly, pathetic. While Mark carried the world on his shoulders you ran, playing hero as Morningstar but only to the manageable things, only the normal things.

You weren't the one fighting alternate evil versions of yourself. You weren't the one fighting a genius dinosaur who killed millions. You weren't the one who got disembowelled by Conquest or stomped on by Anissa.

(God, you hadn't even been there when Angstrom attacked mom. Stupid, stupid– you hadn't– didn't even know–

And you hadn't been there and you should've, fucking should've, but you weren't. You never were.)

If dad hadn't asked for you personally, would you have even gone to space to fight the Viltrumites? Or would you have stayed on Earth, claimed you'd keep it safe in their absence when in actuality you were being a coward, hiding from any real danger (hiding from watching your brother get beat again and again and again and not being able to save him)?

God, you were fucking pathetic. What kind of hero were you?? Not even saving your brother–

“–!”

Behind you, Thragg called your name again, scowling as you didn't hear him, blitzing ahead. Something was wrong, you weren't listening, instead getting faster, barely dodging what was in your way.

So Thragg sped up, went in front of you, and held you as you slammed into him.

The impact made you gasp, flight faltering from the shock. You looked up, tears falling down your face as you looked up at Thragg's concerned expression.

“What?”

He frowns, wiping away a tear and letting you see.

“Oh.” You whisper, not having realized–

so, so pathetic

“I… um, I'm sorry.”

Thragg just stared at you, brow creasing before he lowered himself, carrying you down to a small island in a vast lake.

“What for?” He asks, genuinely confused. Was it the hormones again?

You just looked down, gaze vacant. Your lips moved but no sound came out.

“… I don't know.” You finally whisper. “I just… got lost in thoughts of who I used to be. Before this… second chance. I was… pathetic.”

As you reach to fiddle with some grass, Thragg tilts his head.

“Why does that matter? The past is passed. Who you are now is what matters.” He said simply, unable to understand your mindset. “You were weak in the past, yes, as all Viltrumites have been. Yet now you are stronger. That is what matters.”

You go to open your mouth, to disagree, to deny his words… yet you stop.

He… wasn't wrong. Not really.

You'd been a coward before, weak and pathetic. Yet the second you got this second chance… you forced yourself to change, to take the initiative, to fix things.

You sniffle.

“Crazy that you're the one that makes me see sense.” You mumble, wiping your face. “I… thank you, Thragg. I mean it.”

He just nods. “I am your consort. I do believe it is my duty to comfort you.”

You just snort at his words, nodding slowly. “Still odd.” You murmur.

He just rubs your back, knowing how to do that much at least.

Swallowing, you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder and looking up at him shyly. The moment from earlier comes back to you, and you feel warm again.

You'd never felt this way before, never wanted to…

Looking at him, you'd always known that, objectively, Thragg was handsome. But you'd never found him handsome yourself. Not until recently. His looks had done nothing for you until now.

You'd never really been attracted to anyone before now either.

Huh. Suppose Thragg really is your first, in many ways.

“… I was scared of you, in the other timeline.” You whisper suddenly, Thragg going still as you begin to speak. “That version of you… he was scary. Had nothing left to lose, in the end. He had the chance to kill us– my family and I– before and didn't take it. And he regretted it. I know he did.”

He listens silently, still rubbing your back.

“And yet despite that, I felt bad for him.” His hand paused. “Because I knew that, partially, he'd been pushed so far because of what we did.”

Mulling that over, Thragg peers down at you. “You feel bad for me?”

“Not you.” You nudge him. “The other version of you.”

“Who is still me.” He points out.

You roll your eyes.

Thragg just sighs, gazing out at the still water. “What did you and your kin even do to warrant my wrath?”

You press your lips together, feeling oddly like a child avoiding punishment as the seconds drag by before, finally–

“Blowing up Viltrum.”

He froze.

You pointedly didn't look at his face as he looked down at you.

“… how.” He asked emphatically.

“Space Racer’s gun. Then Thaedus, my dad, Mark, and I flew through the hole. Destabilized the planet. Core exploded.”

Thragg shakes his head, looking out at the lake again. Then–

“Nolan did not kill Space Racer?!”

Oh, if your dad ever showed up, he was fucked.

You ended up telling Thragg more about the other timeline, the future-past if one would. He listened attentively, listening to your stories of your brothers (and wrinkling his nose rather cutely when you told him about Oliver's origins), of your mom, your superhero friends, and the villains you'd fought.

“Earth sounds rather similar to ancient Viltrum.” He says after a lull in conversation. “Records state we used to have quite a few monsters as well, though ours seemed to be native animal species while yours seem to be truly unnatural.”

You look at him from where you were laying on the grass. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

And so he did, regaling you with what he recalled from memory of their long history, telling you of your ancestors in the process.

Which then led to you talking about human history, the both of you having a long conversation about conquest and war because, when both sides were equal, how did it make sense for one to proclaim the other lesser?

For Viltrumites it at least made sense. They were better than everyone else. Not that it made it right, but still.

Apparently, there was a brief period where similar happened on Viltrum, according to some records, but it never went anywhere. Regardless of their looks or sex, Viltrumites were all equal, after all.

As the sun began to set, you stretched, grunting as your spine popped a couple times. Within you, the babies stirred a bit, a sensation you still weren't used to despite them having been moving for a while now.

“Ready to go back?” Thragg asks, gracefully getting up compared to your heavier movements, forgetting you could just… fly up for a moment.

“Yeah, I… I'm sorry about earlier.”

He scoffs quietly. “Enough with the apologies. I do not need them.”

You just shrug a shoulder. “I'll give them anyway.” You murmur, reaching for him as he lifts up, holding onto his arm as you follow him.

Thragg doesn't acknowledge it beyond a glance, guiding you back home to the palace as you seemingly got lost in thoughts again, one hand on your pregnant belly, taking comfort in the little lives within you.

Once back in your room, you stripped down to your underwear and laid on the bed, absentmindedly petting your stomach, feeling flutters wherever you touched. They were kicking.

“Thragg,” you called for him, your mate standing by the desk and checking on something. He turns, coming over when you gesture for him to. Then, gently taking his hand, you place it on the spot that's getting the most kicks.

Something passes over his face at that, lips pressing together, eyes fixated on the spot he was touching. He leans down, pressing his ear to your skin, hearing the faint sounds from within.

With a faint shudder, Thragg shuts his eyes, listening and feeling his children make themselves known, stroking the underside of your belly as he does.

Watching him, you feel overcome with emotion, heart clenching and beating faster. It was just– it was a beautiful view. One that made you feel so light and warm. Reaching out, you laid a hand on his head, Thragg opening his eyes halfway to look at you as you stroked his hair, the both of you silent in this achingly perfect moment.

In that moment, you've never felt more at peace with the decision you made than ever before.

After hours of looking over reports from the different planets under Viltrum’s control, you needed a break. Oddly, it was Thragg who recommended it, insisting you needed some sun after hours at your desk.

Flying to a long stretch of beaches, Thragg watched you take off your skirt and shoes, tights pulled up to your knees. Though he didn't join you as you dipped your feet in the water, he did remain close, feeling content at the sight of your simple joy.

“Did you do this on Earth?” He asks out of the blue, watching you crouch to pick up a shiny stone, shining wetly under the sun's rays.

You nod, fiddling with it a bit. “Yeah. When we were kids, during the summer our mom would take me and Mark to the beach every week. We'd play for hours as she sunbathed and read some book or another.” You recall, pocketing the pretty stone.

He carefully tucks the shared memory away. “And Nolan?”

“Oh, he was usually busy being a hero.” You shrug, picking up another stone, this one smooth and black. “Sometimes he'd come pick us up though, tell us about what he did to keep us entertained.” You say, pocketing the stone and picking up another.

Thragg observes for moment, watching your pockets become fuller and fuller before stepping in, taking some from you.

His little mate, he thought with ever increasing fondness. Delighted with mere stones and shells. Just what would he do with you?

The waves splash against your feet, toes wiggling in the sand. He recalls you mentioning something once, an off-handed thing about painting your nails? Another Earth custom, he figured. Humans seemed to go above and beyond to change their looks. Colouring their hair, painting themselves with paints and dusts, wearing useless yet pretty metal all over…

Though Thragg didn't understand it, he could perhaps admit he was curious about it, about if you had done any of that, and how you'd look.

Viltrumites didn't do jewellery or make-up, but if their empress wanted it… who was Thragg to deny you anything? Barely half a year as monarch and you'd already cleaned Viltrum, and your kindness towards the lesser people under their control had the benefit of increasing production and decreasing any uprisings or issues.

You were doing well, even if many of your actions were unconventional.

Returning home, you were quick to set aside all your newly gathered stones and shells, looking at them thoughtfully before a knock at the door caught your attention.

“My Empress, there is a matter of grave importance that requires your attention.”

With a sigh, you flew over to the door, opening it. Kregg stood on the other side, looking a little unsure as he did.

“What is it, Kregg?”

The General grimaced a bit. “The… Nolan has been spotted approaching the planet. He'll be here soon. What are your orders?”

He looked at you, waiting for your response. Thragg eyed you carefully, seeing your surprise and, beneath it, rising anxiety.

Approaching, Thragg laid a hand on your shoulder, making you look up at him. He squeezed gently, trying to offer comfort despite still not having much experience in doing so.

Yet his paltry comfort must work, as you immediately relax, breathing in once before looking at Kregg, all empress as you do.

“Let him come. It's time my father and I had a talk anyway. According to Thula, my brother was on Thraxa as well, so he probably knows about my… knowledge.”

Humming lowly, the General nods. “As you say, my liege.”

As he walked away, likely to await Nolan's arrival in the atmosphere, you looked down, frowning as you soothed a hand over your belly, confidence faltering once more.

Thragg frowns, tipping your chin up. “What is wrong?” He asks, blunt as ever, wanting to get to the problem straightaway and deal with it. He didn't like it when you looked so… down. It seemed wrong when you were usually such a happy and peaceful person.

You grimace a bit. “I haven't seen my dad since he nearly killed my brother… and now he's going to be here, and– and see this. Me, pregnant, Empress of Viltrum! What if–” you falter, and it takes Thragg gently nudging your cheek to get you to continue, “What if he hates me? I could've come here sooner and– his life on Earth is ruined. Mom probably won't take him back for a decade if ever, and– and I knew and I could've–”

Your breath hitched, eyes darting around as they well up with tears.

Immediately, Thragg panics, never sure what to do when you started getting overly emotional. He didn't… do these kind of emotions. Didn't know how to handle it except awkwardly.

But you hadn't minded his awkward attempts at comfort before, so why should you now?

Stiffly, Thragg pulls his empress and mate close, tucking your head beneath his chin and rubbing your back in circles; it always seemed the safe choice when it came to these moments.

“Hush,” he orders, voice a whisper, “deep breaths, little mate.” You shuddered before doing as told, breaths wet and shaky. “You are the empress,” he stresses. “It does not matter how the traitor feels. He did his duty as he was ordered to do. It is no one's fault that those orders changed afterwards. If he dares to hold your–” weakness, attachments, fears “–choices against you, then he is the fool, not you.”

You nuzzle against his chest, and he allows it, cradling the back of your head with all the delicacy he can manage. Anything for you.

“But he's my dad.” You whisper weakly. “How would you feel if Argall had been disappointed in you?”

The words hit him like a punch.

Jaw tightening, Thragg stares at the wall, keeping his touch light.

The answer was obvious. He'd hate it. He'd always hated it.

Failure had been few and far between for Thragg growing up, exceeding the expectations and skills of everyone around him; yet with all that came high standards for him. Argall expected perfection from him all the time. Even a single falter was a grave offense in the emperor's eyes. Thragg was supposed to be above failure, above weakness. So every time he did fail, was weak, Argall made sure he knew how disappointed the man was.

Still stroking his mate's back, Thragg just says, “I understand,” continuing to comfort you until Nolan arrived.

When Nolan entered the long hall, he clearly didn't expect to see you sitting on the throne.

Well, one of them, at least. As after declaring Thragg your equal, you'd had twin thrones replace the single one, both of you able to sit side by side whenever the occasion called for it.

You sit, back straight, hands in your lap. It partially hides your pregnant stomach, arms stretched in front of it enough so it wasn't so obvious. You… were also nervous about his reaction to that.

God, you might kill your dad through shock. Could Viltrumites even have heart attacks? You might be about to test it.

Nolan calls your name, eyes wide with shock, quickly looking around, mind fast at work and putting together the pieces.

The throne. You. The gown. Thragg at your side.

“… how? What– what is this?” He asks, not about to jump to conclusions no matter how things looked. Because there was no way– it couldn't–

It's at that moment Thragg speaks up, setting the record straight.

“You stand before the Empress of Viltrum, descendant of Argall,” he said, Nolan's eyes nearly popping because oh, oh he was fully realizing now.

He looks between you and Thragg, and as you slowly stand up, his eyes dart down towards your rounded belly, very clearly pregnant.

“Sweetheart,” the affectionate term nearly makes you tear up. Years, years you'd gone by without hearing your dad call you that. “What’s going on?”

Explaining everything to your dad was easier and faster than you expected. He'd already known from Mark about you knowing the future, so the how was swiftly answered, but the why's–

“You wouldn't have had Oliver.” You say, then at his look, “My brother. You wouldn't have had him or met Andressa. And– and I know it was wrong. I know I was… selfish and stupid, doing this to mom and Mark and you and all those people by waiting– but I– in the grand scheme of things, I didn't know those people! But I knew my brother and what he meant to our family.”

Your father just stares at you, silent.

“I know I had no room making this decision. Making– letting you be the bad guy when you'd all but changed– it's a fucking miracle Cecil allowed it to happen, honestly, but– I just wanted to fix things. And I have been– I think I have, but… I…”

As you begin to lose steam, searching for any more words to explain yourself, explain your mindset and why you allowed things to play out this way, your dad just took a few steps forward–

And enveloped you in his arms.

You went still, not expecting this.

Nearby, Thragg tensed, prepared to step in if his mate and children were harmed.

With a shaky breath in your ear, Nolan just held you tight.

“I'm sorry you had to make a decision like that at all.” He whispered, though he was so, so thankful you did. It was selfish, so undeniably selfish and he knew he couldn't just go back to Earth and have things go back to how they used to be, but–

In the short time they spent together, he'd loved Andressa. And he loved his son, he loved Oliver so, so much. It was the same overwhelming love he felt when you and then Mark were born, but this time he'd been much better equipped to deal with the world changing feeling.

So yes, maybe you'd made the wrong choice. Maybe you'd been selfish.

But the man Nolan was now couldn't imagine not having Oliver or meeting the Thraxans.

It wasn't right, but… it wasn't wrong either.

“So… we're descendants of the royal bloodline?”

“Yeah…” You wince. “Sorry for skipping ahead of you, but I figured… with my knowledge–”

“No, no, I understand. Plus… I don't think I'd be a very popular choice for emperor. By… either side.”

Then he looked down, oh so awkward yet trying.

“And… this! You're pregnant!” He said, trying to be happy but… the situation was a little Too Much for that right now. “How did… this happen?”

You glance back at Thragg whom remained by a window, giving you and Nolan some privacy without abandoning you.

Your dad just stared.

“And you… wanted this, correct?” He asks after a long moment, to which you nod quickly.

“Obviously! I'm the one who offered in the first place.” You say, then, lowering your voice to a whisper, lean in. “And it binds him to me. No matter what happens next, what I allow, Thragg's children will be royals and pure of blood. Plus he's my consort, so he's not losing any power.”

Brows jumping to his hairline, Nolan looks at you, really looks at you, and realizes how much you've matured.

“You really thought it through.” He said, both impressed and a little sad his daughter, his first born, had to arrange her own marriage and get pregnant so young just to keep the peace. You weren't even– he quickly did the math– you'd only just turned twenty-two. It made something in Nolan ache to realize just how much you were giving up.

Yes, you were doing good, so much good, but…

You were still his little girl. His first born.

“Are you happy, at least?” He asks quietly, just wanting to know that. At least let you be content, comfortable. “With him?”

You blink at his question, not expecting it. Again, you look back at Thragg. And when the man looks over at you, meets your gaze–

Nolan sees it then.

The way your lips curl into something soft and sweet. The way your eyes shine without any light.

It wasn't love– he didn't think it was, at least, not yet. But… it could be.

Emperor above, my daughter is smitten with the Grand Regent, Nolan thought with some horror, as any parent would when their child was with an incredibly dangerous and strong man.

You turn back to your dad, still smiling.

“Yeah. He's… kinda sweet to me.”

With your dad on Viltrum, things obviously changed.

You officially pardoned him for abandoning his mission just so nobody else could bring it up against him. Despite that though, the other Viltrumites still didn't know how to treat him.

On the one hand, he was obviously a weak traitor, becoming soft for lesser lifeforms and even siring a child on insects. But you forgave it, allowed it; and he was your sire, the would've-been emperor if you hadn't claimed the title first. Along that line, he was also still a man many of them had respected and even looked up to, one of their best soldiers and agents.

With that in mind, and not wanting your dad to become listless, you decided to keep him occupied by making him your liaison to other races. He wasn't as out of Viltrumite indoctrination as he'd been before in the future-past, but he was definitely way more open-minded and accepting compared to the rest.

So, every few weeks, you'd send him off to keep him busy. To talk new terms with the planets under your reign. To check on old colonies and report what he found. You even sent him to check on those planets full of Viltrumite weaknesses, having plans for them.

As dangerous as the ragnars are, they don't deserve to be frozen forever. And the other planets…

Later, you constantly reminded yourself, temples always pounding whenever you thought too long on things. There was only so much planning you could do at this point, and it wasn't good for the babies. Just a few more months and they'd be out… or weeks. It was still fairly unclear.

Speaking of which, Nolan had, after resting and coming to terms with everything he'd learned, told you everything he could remember from both of Debbie's pregnancies, assuring you on what was normal and what was more in-line for a Viltrumite pregnancy.

“I'm just nervous to give birth twice in a row,” you told him while walking around one of the newly built parks, air cool and fresh. “Everything else I'm fine with and prepared for. But pushing out two babies…”

With a grimace, Nolan squeezes your shoulder in comfort. “I obviously don't have experience with it, but I understand. Childbirth is… its own battle. But from what I know, twins are typically born small. So you should have it's little easy there.”

You just give him a deadpan look. “Dad, they're Thragg's kids too. Them being twins just means they'll be average size instead.” You said, trying not to imagine how big a single baby would be. Ugh.

He paused, then cringed, looking away.

“That… is also correct.” He walked with you a bit more before speaking again. “But I'm sure it will still be fine. You're strong, sweetheart, far stronger than me in some ways.”

Having your dad around continued to be a comfort, and you were so, so thankful he understood and didn't blame you for doing everything you did. You didn't know how you'd react if your own father couldn't look at you for your choices– especially considering his own long list of crimes.

Something else you'd had him do was begin preparing a file. In it, you wanted to him to document all the things he, as a Viltrumite, had to do to fit in on earth. Everything he'd learned, figured out, and so on. You were going to have all the other Viltrumites read it before sending them there, as your information probably wouldn't be worth all that much; you'd been raised human after all, didn't question the world around you and the way things were done the way aliens assuredly would.

Nolan could offer explanations and insights in a way they'd fully grasp.

Which he was more than happy to do as, no matter how far he strayed from the ways of Viltrum, he'd always hold love for his planet and his people within him. So to do this for them, to help them like this? It shouldn't have even been a question on whether he would or not. The answer was obvious.

So, while your dad did that, you continued on as normal.

Being empress, ruling an empire that really didn't need that much governing, continuing to fix up your planet, preparing for the future…

All necessary and important, yet they felt so… you just wanted to move things on already. Wanted to have your babies already and completely cement Thragg's loyalty; wanted to send your Viltrumites to earth and watch them fall in love with it again, repopulate and gain a new understanding for life; wanted to see your mom and brother again and introduce Thragg to them–

The thought snagged your attention, making you stop what you were doing. Because nowhere in your previous plans had introducing Thragg to your family been included. Actually, outside of making him loyal to you and hopefully making him love you and the children, you hadn't had anything else in mind for him. Just that. It was already difficult enough to imagine, let alone do, but…

You weren't blind. Thragg was going soft. For you, for the babies…

And you were going soft for him.

But it was more than softness. You– you cared about him. You liked spending time with him. Liked–

Liked him. In a way you'd never experienced or felt before, you actually liked Thragg.

You hurried to your bedroom, not able to focus with all these thoughts going on inside your head.

Over the past few months, with every flight and game of chase, with every hour spent in your office with Thragg teaching you how to be a good ruler, with all the swimming and the walks through the parks and the cuddling at night…

You'd grown to care for him. Began to see him as a friend, a companion. And then you noticed how his eyes were like deep pools of honey in the sunlight. Or that he looked like a pouty cat when he frowned, making you want to reach out and smush his cheeks– and you could! Because you were the empress and Thragg would damn near do anything for you. You'd even noticed how rough his voice was in the morning, shivers trickling down your spine ever time you heard him wake up.

You'd known he was handsome before– you had eyes, knew what was considered conventionally attractive– but you'd never attracted to him.

Not until he indulged you with games to keep you entertained. Not until he taught you ancient Viltrumite runes. Not until you laid in bed together, watching him cradle your belly and caress it, expression unnaturally soft as the little lives you made together kicked within.

You hadn't–

Oh.

Oh.

You were falling in love with him.

The realisation stunned you, but it made so much sense in hindsight. You hadn't even noticed… but you were, weren't you? Or were you imagining things? You'd never been– nobody! Nobody else had ever interested you– but he did.

Thragg. Your mate. Emperor-consort and Grand Regent. Father to your unborn children. Yeah, you were starting to fall for him.

Falling in love had never been a part of your plan, but… it wouldn't hurt them if you did. If anything, it would just make you happier in them.

Sometime later, Thragg would join you in your shared rooms, swiftly undressing to just his boxers and laying beside you, scooping you up and pulling you close.

Lazily, you pressed against him, also in just your underwear, bare skin pressing together and creating little shocks all over your skin. It felt so good. You'd never noticed how good it was before. You couldn't get enough, not with your newest revelation on your mind.

I like him, you thought to yourself, I'm actually falling in love with him.

What a glorious feeling it was.

Hands slowly beginning to roam his form, Thragg watched lazily, one of his own hands splayed across your baby bump, so big it enveloped most of it. You ran your fingers through his chest hair, combing it, then squeezed his pecs, making him tense in surprise; but then he relaxed, much more alert now as you touched him all over.

Broad shoulders and thick biceps, muscular forearms and strong hands; solid stomach and wide waist, sharp hips and thick thighs. You felt his pulse and squeezed the meat of him, Thragg allowing it all with half-lidded eyes, a soft low groan leaving him every few minutes, enjoying it.

With a lighter touch, you cupped the front of his boxers, feeling he had his member out of his sheath. His breath hitched, loud beside your head, and you gently caressed his bulge, heart picking up a bit, warmth blooming in your lower belly.

“Mate…” Thragg’s deep voice was breathy as he spoke, eyes on your face. “What are you doing?”

You didn't answer right away, reaching up and cupping his face instead. His face was so…

Pressing your thumbs in a bit, you felt his bone structure, felt how defined they were. Was Thragg… chubby? Cheekbones like his should've been more visible, but his cheeks were certainly big.

Then again, to have all this muscle, he would need to eat a lot. Even Viltrumites needed to eat to get this big. Your kind got a lot of cheats, but magical muscle appearances weren't one of them.

“On Earth, there's an act between loved ones.” You tell him in a whisper, leaning a little closer. “Depending on the placement, it has slightly different meanings. One the head or cheek is more platonic, but on the lips is only romantic, between partners.” You explain, caressing his face.

“I've never done it before.” You admit in just shy of a rush, a little timid. “So… I'd like you to be my first kiss, Thragg. May I?”

Copying you, his hand slides up, cradling one side of your face as he pulls you even more against him, bodies damn near becoming one.

Glorious, glorious, the newly realized feelings make every touch sing.

“You may, my empress.”

Lips curling and heart excitedly beating, you lean in. “I'm just your mate when we're alone,” you whisper, mouth finally pressing against his.

For a moment, you feel nothing, wondering if you're doing this wrong or that maybe everyone just exaggerated it. But then Thragg sighs through his nose, copying your movements and kissing back, a soft and warm pressure against your lips.

And that– that feels good. Light yet solid, you have to take the lead, trying to move your lips against his in a way that isn't messy or awkward, but again, this is your first kiss, so it's bound to be anyway.

Though Thragg doesn't seem to have any complaints, not with how he's kissing back, only breaking it to look at you, drinking in the soft of your slightly flushed lips before kissing you again, taking the lead this time, letting you lie back and enjoy yourself.

Which you do, only taking back control to try something new, parting your lips and introducing tongue, a concept which Thragg takes to like a duck to water, licking into your mouth hungrily, deep and claiming, tongue feeling each of your teeth, focusing on your sharp canines especially.

It feels like it goes on forever, Thragg never leaving your mouth alone until you're pushing him off, lips bruised and needing a drink. You're flushed, hot, pulsing between the legs for the first time in a while.

You have half a mind to fuck him again– properly, this time. But it feels too soon, emotions not yet settled. Jittery and too much.

Your libido fades a bit afterwards anyway, hydrated and even taking a bath to cool down, Thragg joining you and pressing kisses along your neck, utterly taken by your reactions to it.

“I do believe I have found my new favourite thing to do, my little mate.” He whispered into your hair, kissing your crown as well.

You just smile.

You think it's your new favourite thing too.

The closer you get to the birth, the more you finish preparing everything.

The planets are all mostly self governed (again), not needing a Viltrumite to regularly check in anymore. Which meant that, as soon as you gave birth, you could finally, finally send them to earth.

And just like that, everything will be complete. A good 80% of the universe’s problems will be solved, and you can just… feel at peace, knowing you'd saved your family and so many others from death and destruction.

You'd already assigned Kregg and your father to co-lead the assignment to Earth. Nolan would be Earth's liaison to Viltrum, while Kregg as the highest ranking Viltrumite would be in charge of settling everyone down with their identities. You'd already given him some suggestions based on what you could recall, including people they should try and seek out. Then, once everyone else was dealt with, Kregg was ordered to head down himself and find a mate (or a dozen. You still couldn't believe how he'd managed that). Your father could handle everything else after that.

Plus, it would offer him a chance to be close to Earth again and prove he's changed without just… inserting himself back into his old life. It wasn't the best but… better than nothing, right?

You weren't entirely sure what you were going to do with yourself yet. Obviously, you couldn't go anywhere without Thragg. And you didn't feel comfortable with taking newborns onto a spaceship. So visiting Earth was… still a long ways away for you.

The thought made you sad, something Thragg would try to ease by taking you to your favourite spots. It certainly helped.

Finally, a week before it had been a full twelve months– over a year since you'd gotten here– you'd become restless and on edge. You began checking and double-checking and even triple-checking the nursery, cleaning everything yourself to Thragg's confusion. Especially since the room was already spotless from previous cleanings. But oh, you found something to clean. You had those maternal senses or whatever.

If you weren't cleaning, you were pacing. If you weren't pacing, you were flying. And if you weren't flying–

“I do not wish to harm them.”

“You won't,” you reassure, hot and needy and barely thinking as you hovered over him, naked and leaking. “Just– just give it to me, Thragg.”

Restless and needy, you'd finally found yourself desiring Thragg again. Immensely so. To the point you'd been about to use his pillow to get off before he walked in.

Now, lying under you, Thragg held your wide, fat hips tight as you hovered above his cock. Ready to sink down on it and satisfy the restless energy filling you.

Unlike last time, it felt natural to do this, finally finding your footing in this dance of desire. It finally felt like you knew the steps, giving him a needy look and pleading sweetly for him to touch you, arching into him as much as you could and grinding down against his crotch.

And it felt better too. As you eased yourself down, his fat prick spreading your hot and dripping walls apart, you were losing your mind, already moaning from so little.

It felt a lot like the first time you'd used sex toys, working yourself up and up and then filling the aching void within you. Except way better. Because Thragg was warm and big and strong, and he worked your body for you as you leaned back, hands on his thighs as he fucked you down onto his lap, hands leaving glorious bruises against your unblemished skin.

You wanted more. More pleasure, more bruises, more of him. Was it the lack of any release that made this so good, or that you were doing it with your husband, the man you were almost completely in love with? Regardless, you were loving it, not even noticing how you were creaming on him, a white ring coating the base of his cock.

But Thragg noticed, and it just made him harder, head tipping back with a groan, almost lightheaded as he quickly sat up, readjusting you until you were laid across his legs, ass in his lap. You stared at him, legs flailing before resting on his shoulders.

Gripping your hips tightly, flesh spilling out between his fingers (another sight that would sear itself into his brain and ruin him for the rest of his life), Thragg began fucking you onto his dick like a plaything, treating you as roughly as he dared– which wasn't much, admittedly. Not when you were so heavy with child. Not when your cervix had shifted, lowering a bit.

He swore he could feel it as he bottomed out, tip grazing it. He tried not to, worried that touching such an innermost part of his empress would cause you harm. He only wanted pleasured cries from you tonight, not ones of pain. Those would be kept for when he began training you.

And you did cry out in pleasure, loudly and continuously. Especially when you climaxed, walls rippling around his cock and staining him with your release.

“Y-yes! K-keep going!” You ordered, already on the verge of another.

So he did.

Again and again, Thragg tended to his mate's needs, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you like a repeat of their bonding ceremony. He focused on you, only allowing himself to cum once you were limp and satisfied, cradling you in his arms as he did.

Afterwards, the air was silent aside from their panting. You leaned against him, sweaty and hot. You smiled against his shoulder, Thragg stroking down your spine as he felt in the trembles still working their way through your frame.

Once he was sure he could, he rose, taking you to the bathing chamber to rinse off. Afterwards, he carried you back to bed and laid down with you, spooning you with his hands on your belly.

Two hours later, you woke up to a rippling sharp pain and the feeling of your water breaking.

Giving birth was both better and more scary than you imagined. A contradiction, sure, but mixed emotions were normal when pushing living creatures out of ones body.

The medics kept their distance while monitoring you, giving you space as you knelt on the birthing bed, still conflicted on whether you wanted to do it like this or in the water. Your mate and your father were here too, though much closer.

Thragg, though knowledgeable, had no actual experience with births, so just held your hand and rubbed your back, trying to knead your tense muscles. It helped some, and you appreciated the care.

Your father, having witnessed three different births, coached you through it. Which might've been slightly nicer to hear if you weren't naked. Not like you could give birth clothed, but still.

It was awkward for all of a minute before another contraction ripped a cry from you and then you didn't care about your state. You just–

God, you wanted your mom.

If Debbie were here, she'd know what to say, to do. She'd hold you tight and help you breathe through it, would snap you out of your head and order you to walk around, to lay down.

You appreciated your dad but he wasn't your mom.

And then it was time to push and all your fear just– disappeared.

It was like all thoughts that didn't involve pushing and breathing were shut off. You'd become an animal, all instinct, going with the flow of your body and bearing down every time your body told you to.

You didn't even notice the relief, the emptiness as one baby slid free. Just the cry splitting the air and then you looked.

There, in a medic’s hold was a girl. Pale and bruised and all wrinkly.

Thragg stared after her in silence while your father teared up, kissing your temple and telling you to keep going, he'd watch over her.

Then he and your daughter were gone and you were focusing on getting the boy out, Thragg pressing his brow to yours, uncaring of how sweaty you'd gotten.

“Once more, my empress,” he whispers, fingers bruised in your grip. “Just once more, you– you have done so well. Just a little more and you will have done all you need to.”

So you did. Your gaze blurred, darkened; you shook a bit, continuing to push through the aches and the pains until your son slid out with a startled wail, caught by his father before the medic could.

Done.

It was all over. You'd done it. You–

Thragg caught you as you collapsed, laying you down gently, ordering someone to bring you cold water and something to wash you with.

You just shut your eyes, relaxing as you listened to the distant sounds of babies whimpering.

“They're beautiful, sweetheart.” Nolan whispers, gazing down at the resting babies in your lap.

Cleaned up and dressed, you laid in your own bed now, twins already swaddled and fed, and now resting.

Already Thragg had informed everyone of the new births, a healthy boy and girl.

“Mmm-hmm, they are.” You murmur tiredly, just looking at them, taking in the small differences.

You'd never seen Ursaal and Onaan as babies, of course, but you had as teenagers, so you had something to compare with.

Like their eyes.

When Thragg had held Ursaal, he'd let out a genuine gasp when she opened her eyes to reveal one brown and one blue, the colours already settled.

Nolan had obviously been proud, knowing those were his genetics winning against both Thragg's and those from your mother. You let him have it, finding their eyes unique. You felt it also represented their heritage, a mix of two different worlds, of two bloodlines.

Almost completely Viltrumite, yet so very human as well.

“What have you named them?” Nolan asks, glancing from you to Thragg. He still wasn't close to his son-in-law (and god, hadn't that stunned him when he realized?), but he could respect your choice. And, of course, Thragg having been his leader for so long meant he was still respectful towards him as well.

“Ursaal and Onaan.” Thragg says, stoic with your father around, but you knew the second you were alone he'd be all over you and the babies. “I'd already considered them amongst others but my mate insisted on them specifically.”

You just shrug, still sore, still tired, but not ready to rest yet. Funny how birth could drain you yet fill you with an energy to watch over your kids as well.

“Those are their names.” You simply say, tracing the cheek of your son. “In this life and the previous. Who am I to change them?”

At your side, Thragg shifted, a slight frown on his lips.

“Their mother.” He says. “If you wish to name them differently–”

“I wish not.” You cut him off softly, leaning back against the pillows. “They're suitable names and I like them. And you wanted them too.”

Thragg had no response for that, though internally he felt the naming was your right and your right alone. It would be different if he were the higher ranking one in this relationship, but…

No. Even if he was a higher rank than you, so long as you were still you… Thragg would let you name his heirs whatever you wished. He trusted his mate with that honour.

So he just nods, eyes on his children again, something aching in his chest as Ursaal’s button nose wrinkled before sneezing.

Adorable, he thought.

Outwardly, he just remained stoic. At least until Nolan left. Then he climbed into bed beside you, careful and slow so as to not disturb the babes. Then, once he was situated, he took them, cradling them in his arms so you may rest unobstructed.

You watch him with heavy-lidded eyes, shuffling lower on the bed, lying down more. Yet still, your head remained facing your family.

As your eyes grow heavier and your breathing becomes soft, you hear Thragg say something beside you.

“Thank you.” He says, still gazing at Onaan and Ursaal as they slept.

“For what?” You grunt, fighting to stay awake. But your husband was watching the babies. You could rest now. At least until they needed feeding again.

Though you couldn't see it, he looked at you.

“For everything, I suppose. In a way… you have saved our people. And you have saved me.”

The memory of their conversation of the future-past, of his alternate self comes to mind then. Of what so easily could've been if you hadn't come here.

Instead of disgrace and banishment, he'd been blessed and gifted with far more than he'd ever imagined.

As you fell asleep beside him, Thragg cradled his heirs close, counting their breaths and keeping them warm.

Another future empress and her grand regent, he thought a little wryly. Though this time, siblings.

Where once he'd feared only death from a new ruler, he'd instead created a cycle. Royal and regent, bound together for at least another generation. Perhaps more. Only time would tell, of course, but Thragg hoped to live long enough to see it.

Space really doesn't get old.

Staring out at the vast void, you anxiously wring your hands together, taking deep breaths to focus and calm down. From behind you, your mate's voice rings out from where he stands before the control panel.

“I highly doubt whatever you are worrying about will come to fruition.”

You close your eyes, almost grumbling as you turn.

“You don't know that, Thragg. It's been nearly two years.” You stress, about to continue before giggles cut through the air and your thoughts, rendering you silent.

As he stands stock still, Thragg's skirts swish about, muffled giggles heard beneath.

From around the console, Onaan toddles on over, looking around with big eyes, both you and Thragg watching as he finally hears the giggles and runs over with pattering steps to lift up his father's royal gown, Ursaal shrieking from underneath as she's found.

Immediately, she books it, her brother not far behind.

The sight brings a smile to your face, anxiety forgotten as the kids play.

Thragg smiles beneath his moustache, keeping an ear out for any stumbles as he checks the speed and trajectory, along with the estimated time to arrive. He didn't worry about the twins bumping into anything, the ship’s system adjusted to only respond to adults. So the two could smack any screens or buttons they wanted. Nothing would happen.

At six months old, Ursaal and Onaan were, obviously, further along developmentally than actual six month olds. They were more in line with human nine month olds due to your longer pregnancy.

Not that it meant they were geniuses or anything. No, still normal kids, playing and screeching and crying and… all of it.

But it was worth it. Especially when you got to see Thragg act so paternal. You hadn't planned on having any more kids, but after seeing him cradle the pudgy toddlers in his big, strong, hairy arms? You were open to expanding the family. Not any time soon, but… eventually.

Snapping you out of your dreamy thoughts of him covered in babies, your mate told you were close. Which just brought your anxieties back.

“Oh god,” you gagged, “I'm… this is a bad idea, maybe–”

Thragg pinched your cheek, making you snap out of it.

“Ow.” You whine, rubbing your skin. “That hurt.”

“You've had worse.” He calmly said. “You have also spent the last few months eager and excited to visit your home after so long, and I will not allow your worries to ruin this for you. From what you have told me, your mother is not the type to hold grudges. Not against her offspring.”

You looked down. Thragg laid his hands on your hips, patiently waiting until you looked up and met his eyes to continue.

“I am aware this is… terrifying for you,” he said delicately, still having trouble with being nice about your (in his opinion stupid) fears. “But you have not done all the things you have just to let a little fear stop you now. Also, you are the empress. She can hardly punish you, now can she?”

You scoff, playfully shoving him. “I am not pulling rank on my mom!”

Thragg just smirked, ducking his head to catch your lips in a kiss.

You were happy to return it, settled once more. God, you were so lucky to have Thragg. Despite his awkwardness in regards to anything emotional, he tried for you. How could you not love that?

Then of course the twins ran by, one tripping on Thragg's cloak and meeting the floor face first with a meaty thoomp. Breaking the kiss, you and Thragg quickly turn your heads away.

The twin in question, Onaan, pushes up, looking up at mommy and daddy. When he sees all is right– because if he was really hurt you'd both be fussing over him– he immediately goes back to chasing Ursaal, not a wail to be heard or a tear to be seen.

You and Thragg sigh in relief.

It was an early Sunday morning when there was a knock on the door.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Oliver was munching on some cereal, the first one up. Both Debbie and Mark had come home late last night and so were sleeping in. Oliver, being a mix between a toddler and a teenager, had gotten up some time ago and had been steadily filling up the black hole he called a stomach.

Then, the aforementioned knock.

Quickly shovelling the last of his cereal into his mouth before it got soggy, Oliver zipped towards the door, opening it without hesitation. The only people who knocked on it were those who knew about him anyway, so no worries about stranger's seeing a purple kid.

Except… the people at the door were very much strangers.

Freezing, Oliver stared up at a frickin’ massive dude, wearing a fur cloak and… was that a skirt? Didn't matter since he had enough muscles to make even hardened criminals pee their pants.

Beside the man though…

You smiled softly, nervous.

“Hi Oliver.”

The teen blinked.

He knew you.

Blinking again, the hybrid stepped back, mouth opening but no words coming out. He knew you, had watched a video of you, had seen photos filled with you.

(Had been gifted a box of toys from you.)

But never in person. Hadn't imagined–

“… You're my sister?” He whispers, shocked to find his voice sounded a little wet. His vision became blurry, Oliver realising that you– you!!– were really here.

Holy shit you were really here.

“Mom!” Turning, Oliver flew towards the stairs. “Mom! Mark! Get down here now!” He called out excitedly, turning back towards you, smiling back just as nervously, awkward as he met his big sister who he heard so much about, felt like he knew, yet had never actually met before.

You swallow, stepping inside carefully. “Oh, Oliver… you… I worried I'd miss out on this.” You say, gesturing to him. “You've grown so fast!”

“Y-yeah, I do that.” He said, looking behind you, seeing the other man just stand there silently, observing. Then his eyes moved lower and his jaw dropped.

“Holy sh–”

A flash of movement and a sudden sharp breeze cut him off.

“Oliver! What– what is…”

Mark hovered in his pyjamas, silently staring at you in disbelief. His feet touched the ground loudly.

Your name was said tentatively, and you just gave him a weak smile.

“Hey, Mark.”

You didn't get another word out, as your little brother (though not the littlest anymore) hugged you in a blur of super speed, clinging onto you tight as he breathed you in, muttering fast paced questions against your neck as you rubbed his back.

Up above, noise were heard as Debbie quickly got up and hurried down the stairs, tying her robe together.

“What's going on–?!” She stopped, froze. Eyes wide and jaw dropped, Debbie Grayson stared at you in shock and growing realisation.

She said your name carefully, and you held your arm open for her.

“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice wavered as she joined the hug, squeezing you tight enough to ache, smothering you with affection as she desperately held you.

As Oliver joined the family hug, Debbie opened her eyes and looked at the open doorway, eyes widening again at the sight of the absolute unit of a man and the–

“Who are they?!” She asked, pulling back with great reluctance but needing to, especially if she was going to get a closer look at those familiar little features.

“Ah,” you wipe your eyes, stepping back and laying a hand on Thragg's lower back, one twin in each of his arms. “Mom, Mark, Oliver, this is my husband, Thragg. And these are Ursaal and Onaan,” you looked at them, your kids gazing at your family curiously, “our children.”

Sitting on the couch, Thragg stared down at the beverage offered to him by his mate's mother. It was hot, steam curling above it with a sweet scent following.

He gave it another sip, finding it enjoyable.

At his feet, the twins played on the rug, Oliver, your hybrid half-brother, watching them closely with interest as they played with the toys he brought down in a rush. Occasionally, the purple teen would glance up, obviously listening in on the conversation going on.

Thragg was more focused on the fact that, in another timeline, his children would be just as purple. Just what had his other self been thinking? Creating an army of lesser hybrids? The shame still hadn't left him since you'd told him the full story.

He much preferred his children.

Besides him, you sat a little stiffly. After another, longer hug and some crying, the Graysons had all sat down (Thragg supposed he was a Grayson too now) to talk. You began explaining in depth why you had done the things you did, made the choices you made, getting progressively more upset because, no matter how much you grew and changed, you'd always manage to find fault within yourself and the things you did, and expect others to do the same. Something that Thragg was working on fixing. Thankfully, some reassurances was all it took to pull you out of that mindset.

Your family seemed to know this as well, Debbie and Mark cutting in to assure you they understood. Yes, they'd had their issues with it when they first learned– when Cecil came with the prerecorded messages, but they'd had long enough to come to terms with it, to realize just how much you'd done to keep the world safe.

Cecil hadn't hidden the things you did. He'd shown Mark your list, shown the would've-been villains he would've had to face if not for your interference. Learning he would've been beaten up by Viltrumites, that that Angstrom guy would've tormented his family and then summoned evil versions of himself to destroy the world, that Eve, whom he'd only recently began to date, would've nearly died trying to save him…

Of course he got it.

And Debbie–

“Come here, sweetie.”

– she got it too. Cradling you in her arms, the woman who raised three Viltrumite hybrids successfully and ultimately led to the universe being saved (because without her, neither you nor Mark nor even Oliver would've turned out the same, made the same choices, would've been good) held you tight and assured you, her baby, her first born, that she was proud of you.

“You did everything you could.” She said, wiping the tears from your eyes. “You made the best decisions you could and now– look at you!” She smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I'm proud of who you are.”

Which started another round of tears.

Thragg just sighed, sipping his tea calmly, staying still as Ursaal climbed onto the couch besides him and then into his lap. She eyed his cup.

“Wah,” she said.

“Want.” He corrected.

“Wah.”

He just sighed, blowing on the hot drink before lowering it. She sipped from the edge, face wrinkling as she swallowed.

“Yuck.”

Thragg raised a brow down at her. “Oh, so you know how to say that but not want?”

Ursaal just slid down his leg and went back to her brother, who was trying to climb Oliver, the teen boy awkwardly sitting still.

“Uh, big sis? Help?” He called as Onaan tried grabbing his hair for balance.

“Oh!” Wiping your face quickly, you slid off the couch, gently plucking your son off his uncle.

“C'mon, Ony, we talked about this. You can only climb daddy or uncle Conquest.” You reprimand him lightly. Not that it does much good, since Onaan is only six months and still figuring language out. So obviously, your son immediately tries clambering up your body to the endearment of your family.

Blowing her nose with some tissues, Debbie kneels beside you.

“Okay, enough crying. I want to meet my grandkids!” She says with some excitement, obviously still raw from the previous conversation and seeing her daughter after two years, but… grandbabies!

The Grand Regent just watched, finishing his drink before long yet not moving, remaining sat as you introduced their heirs to your mother and brothers properly, telling them about the milestones they'd already reached and what they liked and didn't like.

It should've been beneath him, to sit here and act human.

In another world, it was.

But in this world, this Thragg was more than happy to sit and listen to his empress and mate chatter on about their children to her human mother and hybrid brothers.

This Thragg was content to remain here on Earth for a few months, to check in with the other Viltrumites and see how they were progressing since they'd been sent here half a year back, to indulge his mate by living here for a bit, to act human just so you'd be happy.

This Thragg was willing to do anything to make you happy, not just because you were his empress or the mother of his children or even because you were his mate. But because you were his hero. Because you saved him from the shameful fate of his other self.

For that alone, Thragg would do anything for you.