Work Text:
Kara Danvers was your average girl.
She wore bulky, average glasses, hiding painfully average blue eyes and a painfully average face. She tossed her woefully average blonde hair into a messy braid, and enjoyed slipping into the average quality sweatshirts of her average university in her average hometown.
(There were bits and parts of her that weren’t necessarily average at all, like her grades or her passion for journalism or even that golden necklace she never took off, but these were easily overlooked.
No one really spared the girl with the scuffed sneakers and scrappy school sack a second thought.
And all in all, Kara liked that. There was a strange sort of power in being invisible.)
Kara Danvers was your average girl. She had Alex, her sister and best friend. She had her cat, Streaky. She had a pretty decent apartment she shared with her sister in a pretty decent part of town, and between the two of them, they were able to afford a pretty decent life. And she had nothing but endless hope for the future.
Because today, after two years of trying to get Snapper Carr to take her journalism seriously, she was finally going to work as a writer for the university’s paper.
The only problem was that she was running late.
“Alex! Where’s my draft about the misuse of school funds by administration—” She cut herself off as she spotted it. “Nevermind!” she called out, shoving the article in her bag and sighing in relief as the toaster dinged and expelled her perfectly toasted bread. Kara grabbed them, wincing at the heat, juggling the bread between her hands as she used her foot to open the refrigerator, eyes searching for butter. “Alex! We’re out of butter!” she shouted, resigned to butter-less toast this morning.
“Kara, it’s not even seven in the morning, would you stop yelling?” Alex said as she shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, her hair still disheveled from sleep. “Of course there’s butter. I always buy you butter.”
“No, look. No butter,” Kara argued, taking a step back so that Alex could see into the fridge.
“Huh,” she said after a moment, blinking in surprise. “Well, it’s fine. You should really stop eating so much butter. You’re not eighteen anymore.”
“ La la la , can’t hear you,” Kara sang, hip checking the fridge close. “Can’t hear you judge my life choices.”
“Kara,” Alex said, her voice suddenly serious, making Kara pause all her frantic moving for a moment to stare at her sister. “Happy birthday by the way.”
“Aw. Thanks, Alex.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you to campus today.”
“No, you’ll be late to work and I know you’re trying to—“
“—how often does my baby sister turn twenty one?” Alex interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
“Is that a trick question?”
“Stop being dumb, I’m not letting you take the bus on your birthday.”
Kara chuckled and gave in, feeling a little bit relieved. She was definitely going to miss her bus anyway—again. She may have turned twenty one, but it was still just an average day for an average girl.
x
Snapper sighed when she slipped into his office, her article draft clutched tightly in her hand. “All right, Danvers,” he said, barely glancing up at her, “let me see it.” He held out his hand and slowly, tentatively, Kara gave him the thing she had spent weeks on—the hardest thing she’d ever done, the thing she was most proud of creating. Snapper smoothed out the pages against his desk, then motioned for her to follow him, flipping through the article as they walked. “Find something to fill the dead space on page six, Patrick,” he ordered one sophomore. “I need more photos for the cover story, Jessica. And if you can’t get them, find a photographer who can,” he snapped at a senior. He came to a sudden halt. “I’m not running this.” It took a moment for Kara to realize he was talking to her .
“Have you even read it? Why—what’s wrong with it?” Kara stammered, the good mood she’d been cruising on all morning coming to a crashing end.
Snapper turned to her, peering at her over his glasses. He looked vaguely bored by the whole conversation, and resigned to an asinine conversation he didn’t want to have. “Look, Danvers, you’re not a half bad writer. It’s why you were chosen at all for the paper. But this?” He waved the article in her face. “This isn’t journalism, it’s an opinion piece. Any Tom, Dick, or Jane can write an opinion piece. If you want to do investigative journalism, then I’m going to need an investigative piece.”
“But it is ,” Kara protested. “It’s researched, I followed the money, talked to administration officials, tracked down the expenditures—”
“—I’m not saying it doesn’t have quality work, Danvers,” Snapper said, clearly reaching the end of his rope. “I have a paper to help run. Either rewrite it and get me a draft by the end of the day, or bring me something else. But this?” He waved the article again. “Won’t cut it.” He shook his head and walked away, leaving her standing there, resigning herself to spending the rest of the day frantically rewriting her article.
“Happy birthday to me,” Kara mumbled, unrooting herself from the spot and locating an empty desk. She pulled out her laptop and her research and got to work.
x
When Alex and Kara moved into their apartment, Eliza had not complained for a single reason only: they both took self defense classes. Extensive self defense classes.
That was why, after she saw the black car with the flags (a red sun with a blue and gold backdrop) for the third time in one day, Kara clenched her fists and loitered around a group of students, debating on whether or not she should walk to the bus stop alone or just call Alex and see if she’d pick her up.
(It was late, later than she normally left campus, but her article had taken longer than she thought, and Snapper had then insisted on several rounds of edits before he deemed it good enough to publish. He’d even offered her a rare pleased grunt as she left for the day. Between rewriting her article, the fact that she’d been stuck on campus all day, and the distinct lack of a lunch, Kara didn’t really have the patience for a strange car following her around.)
She was just about to call her sister when the car with the flags drove away, leaving Kara frowning as she adjusted the straps of her bag.
Perhaps Alex was wrong and if you believed hard enough, wishes would come true. Or maybe she was just being silly and the car hadn’t been following her after all. Kara chuckled to herself as she walked towards the bus stop. That was it, she’d had an egomaniacal moment, thinking the world revolved around her, thinking that seeing a car more than once in a day meant it was following her. Yes, that was it.
Nothing to worry about, she thought as she got onto the bus. Nothing at all, she sighed in relief as she stared out her window.
(She had almost managed to convince herself, too.
But all her hopes were dashed when she got off at her stop, the car with the flags parked at the corner, practically right in front of the apartment she shared with her sister.)
As she approached the building, she saw a straight-backed, stern looking man in shades standing by the car. Though his eyes were hidden by his frames, Kara had the uncomfortable feeling he was watching her, that discomfort increasing markedly when he inclined his head in an unmistakable—if small—bow.
“Alex?” Kara said, barely able to keep her voice down as she ran up the stairs and threw the door to their apartment open. She hadn’t quite known what to expect, but she certainly hadn’t expected Alex, Eliza, and a stranger at their table, the three of them nursing their own cup of tea, a vaguely nauseated look on Alex’s face. “Alex? Eliza? What’s going on?” Kara said slowly, dropping her bag as she approached the table. The stranger turned around to look at her.
(He was maybe fifteen years her senior, his jet-black hair lightly peppered with gray at the temples. He sat obnoxiously straight, shoulders set and strong, his blue eyes immediately brightening as he took her in.)
“Kara,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft and kind, “I am so happy to finally see you again.” He got out of his chair and approached her, looking like he wanted to draw her into a hug, but wasn’t sure if he should—settling for just standing there awkwardly with his arms slightly extended.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?”
Surprisingly, it was Eliza and not the strange man who responded: “This is your cousin from Krypton, Clark.” The man, Clark, turned to Eliza with a look that Kara missed. “He was hoping to talk to you about something while he’s here in National City.”
Kara looked from Eliza to Alex to Clark, and she realized after a moment that she wasn’t actually being given much of a choice. She gave a little uncertain nod, a little surprised when this made Clark grin widely, everything about him seeming to relax.
“Excellent, Kara,” he said, and she noticed his lilted accent for the first time. “How about we have a cup of tea?”
x
Alex and Eliza had left, claiming they were going to go pick up potstickers from her favorite restaurant and quietly promising a proper birthday celebration later that night. And Kara was left sitting at her table, running her index finger over the rim of her coffee cup, waiting for Clark to speak.
(He seemed odd. His eye had twitched at the way she slouched in her chair and had visibly winced when she accidentally slurped at her too-hot coffee.
More than that, he seemed anxious and nervous, unsure even.)
“I didn’t know I actually had a cousin,” Kara said conversationally when it didn’t seem he would speak. His eyes flew up to meet hers and Kara was a little thrown by the panic she saw in them. “Well, I mean. I guess I knew I had a cousin. But it always felt so abstract, you know? Cousin I’d never spoken to from some far off European country? You never seemed...real,” she explained, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
“Yes, I can understand that,” he said quietly, nodding and breaking eye contact once more. “How much do you know of Krypton? Of our family?”
“Um, not much? Just that our parents died in the same accident.”
Clark took a sip of his tea, letting out a gentle sigh. “And of Krypton?”
“Just that it’s a small European country.”
“Do you know who rules it?”
“No. Should I?” Kara narrowed her eyes at this strange man, feeling a surge of...irritation. “Is that a knock at ‘American ignorance,’ because it seems unfair to expect anyone to know about a tiny country to the north of France whose GDP is less than—”
“—whoa, no,” Clark interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to get a sense of how much to explain to you. I think it has to be just about everything.” After a short pause, he let out an amused snort. “You don’t know who rules the country, but you know its GDP. You remind me so much of your parents.”
“You...you remember them?” Kara asked hesitantly, something like longing replacing the irritation from before. She had always known Eliza and Jeremiah weren’t her birth parents, yet she had little to no information about her biological parents. All she’d ever been told was that they’d died in an accident and had been friends with Eliza and Jeremiah.
“Oh yes,” Clark responded, shifting slightly in his chair. “I was eighteen when they died. I was quite close to your mother, actually. Qu—Alura was...she was wonderful.” He smiled at her, his eyes full of a light that had been absent before. “They would be quite proud of who you’ve become, I think,” he said lightly, seemingly unaware of how those words would affect Kara, hitting her hard in the chest and leaving her breathless for a moment.
(It was odd, maybe. The need for validation from two people she didn’t even remember—not beyond a feeling of warmth .
And yet, hearing Clark say those words felt...different somehow, from when Eliza said it. She wasn’t quite sure why there was a difference, why it mattered so much to her.)
“I haven’t really done much,” Kara found herself muttering, ducking her head. This made Clark let out a loud laugh.
“Don’t be modest! Alex and Eliza were telling me everything before you arrived. I hear you’re quite the journalist.”
Kara smiled, but when she met Clark’s eyes, she noticed they’d dimmed once more, more resigned and sad than anything. She realized that he was only trying to postpone the moment he had to tell her why he was there. “Clark,” Kara started, hoping to prod him along. When he took another sip of tea instead, she very nearly rolled her eyes. “Why are you here?” she tried, going for a shove rather than a prod.
“Right. Well,” he cleared his throat as he placed his now empty cup on the table. “Let me first start by explaining a little bit about Krypton.” He folded his hands onto the table, transforming before her eyes into something more...regal? “Our country is small, proud, and independent. It is also a monarchy, and has been ruled by a long line of descendants from the House of El.” He seemed more sure of himself now, and Kara felt her apprehension build. “Eighteen years ago, the rightful Queen and King of Krypton, as well as the King’s brother and his wife, were killed. The Queen and King had a young daughter, far too young to take the throne, and so in a bid to keep her safe, she was sent to live with close friends of the Queen and King, with the intention that after her twenty-first birthday, she would return to Krypton to take her rightful place on the throne.”
“No,” Kara muttered, “no. No. No .”
“The Queen and King’s names were Alura and Zor-El,” Clark plowed on, ignoring Kara entirely. “And their daughter is Princess Kara Danvers Zor-El. You,” he added unnecessarily.
x
“Let me get this straight,” Kara asked, hours later—long after Clark was gone and her shock had slightly waned, only to be replaced by anger —glaring at her adoptive mother, “you’ve known who I was this whole time , and you didn’t say anything ?”
“Kara, you have to understand, taking you in wasn’t something we did lightly,” Eliza said bracingly. “There were a lot of things to factor in.”
“Like what?” Kara demanded.
“Like the fact that we all decided it was better for you to have a normal childhood, kept unaware and distant from Krypton. And we wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what? And who is ‘ we ?’”
Eliza sighed, her eyes sad. Not for the first time, they all felt the glaring absence of Jeremiah Danvers—their peacemaker, their voice of reason, their pacifist. “We couldn’t prove it, still can’t prove it, but the circumstances around your parents’ death had been suspicious. Jeremiah and I took you in so that we could keep you far from Krypton. To keep you safe.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she paused for a moment. “The decision was made by a few of us. Clark, of course. J’onn, the head of security. A member of Parliament at the time and the current Prime Minister, Cat Grant. We just—” She stopped, looking at a loss for words. “You were just three, Kara. We were fairly sure someone was targeting the royal family. We did the best we could.”
Kara stared at her, not quite sure how much she believed her adoptive mother’s words, but choosing to move on for now. “And you?” Kara asked, turning to her sister. “Did you know?” She expected Alex to shake her head. To say no immediately. Instead, Alex grimaced.
“Dad told me. He asked me to help protect you, keep an eye on you.”
(It was like a punch to the gut.
No, worse. Because it wasn’t that she couldn’t breathe, but it felt like her heart had been ripped right out of her chest.)
“I’m gonna take a walk,” she forced out, and without looking back at Eliza or Alex, she left the apartment and fled.
x
The park was abandoned this late at night, the chains of the swing set creaking loudly as she slowly rocked back and forth, the tips of her shoes gliding over the worn grass beneath her. She had her arms hooked around the chains, hands clasped tightly together in her lap, head tilted up and eyes on the night sky.
(You couldn’t see the stars in National City, but one of Kara’s favorite memories was of the camping trip with Jeremiah and Alex, the three of them spread out around a fire, laying in sleeping bags as Jeremiah pointed out constellations.
It was a comforting thought, even now, years later. Even though she couldn’t remember any of the stories Jeremiah told them about the stars that night.)
She heard him before she saw him, walking slowly and loudly towards her, his shades tucked into the front pocket of his suit. Kara paused her swinging, glaring at him.
“I know you work for Clark. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Perfectly understandable, Your Highness.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kara snapped, irritated, resuming her idle movements when the man sat down on the swing set to her left. He assumed the same position as her, though he remained still.
“I’m sorry. Would you prefer Princess Kara?”
“No, absolutely not.” She paused for a moment, feeling her shoulders drop. “Just Kara. Please. Just Kara.”
“Okay, Just Kara,” the man said, and when Kara turned to him, he was smiling benignly. “I am J’onn J’onzz. I am in charge of the royal family’s security.”
“Can I call you J’onny?”
“No. J’onn.”
Kara suppressed a laugh, studying the man a little bit closer. “You knew them, right? My parents?”
“Yes,” he answered, his deep voice rumbling, somehow soothing and inspiring at once. “I knew them quite well.” He met her eyes, seeming to know what she was thinking, even if she wasn’t able to voice it aloud. “I’ve been asked to make myself available to you as long as we are here. Even if you choose not to learn more about your birthright, I would be more than happy to tell you whatever you would like to know about your family.”
“Do you think I should do it? Meet with Clark again, like he wants?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking J’onn. She didn’t know him, he was a virtual stranger. But his sturdy presence had done what nothing else had done since Clark dropped the metaphorical bomb into her life: it calmed her.
“I think you already know what you want to do,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for her. “Trust your instincts, Just Kara. They won’t steer you wrong.”
x
Two days later, Kara found herself standing outside a rather large, gated building. She buzzed the intercom, feeling rather foolish standing there in her jeans and National City sweatshirt. That feeling intensified when she entered the Kryptonian Consulate and was escorted to a waiting room. She sat down uncomfortably, staring at the fancy furniture and ornate decorations for a moment, her attention drawn by the large red sun painted onto the coffee table. It felt familiar, but she shrugged it off, assuming it was because of the flags she’d seen on Clark’s car.
“Princess Kara,” came a young voice, shocking Kara into looking up. A young woman with long dark hair, a brilliant smile, and wonderfully kind eyes came into view. She curtsied briefly before approaching Kara. “It is so great to finally meet you,” she continued, coming to sit down next to Kara. “My name is Nia Nal. I’m the Regent’s chief of staff. His Grace is quite excited to have lunch with you today.”
“Oh, um, thanks. I’m excited too,” Kara said, not quite sure what else she could say. “Could we—could we maybe stick with just Kara? None of that princess stuff. Definitely none of that curtsy stuff.”
Nia’s eyes widened, looking close to scandalized. “But Your Highness, your rank demands—”
“—could we avoid the highness stuff too? Please?”
Nia didn’t look particularly pleased by the request, but she nodded, pursing her lips as she did so. “If that’s what you want,” she said slowly. She didn’t have time to say anything else. At that moment, a heavy set of steps came down the stairs, revealing Clark and J’onn. Clark was grinning brightly at Kara, and J’onn gave her a tiny, approving nod. Nia immediately shot to her feet, bowing her head in respect, and Kara got up as well, feeling compelled to do the same.
“Oh no, Kara,” Clark said quickly, rushing forward and ducking so that he was below her head and had to look up at her. “You don’t bow,” he explained, waiting till she straightened before he did as well. “I suppose we’ll have to go through some of the basics,” he added, a contemplative look on his face. “Nia, remind me to call Querl Dox about lessons.”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” Nia said, tapping at the tablet in her hand. Clark smiled and held his hand out to Kara.
“Come on, Kara. I’m sure you must be hungry.”
x
Lunch had been pleasant enough. Clark had regaled her with tales about Krypton, stories about the mischief he’d gotten into as a child, how he was so impressed with her dedication to journalism as he admitted it was something he was quite passionate about as well. It was as though he was doing his best to discuss everything but the very thing that brought her here in the first place—any and all mention of titles and thrones and family seemed entirely taboo.
She realized it must have been an attempt to set her at ease, for them to get to know each other, and she wasn’t altogether surprised that Clark’s expression turned serious as they went outside for tea. A fountain in the far back of the garden was gurgling water, the sound oddly comforting as Clark cleared his throat.
“I want to preface this, Kara, by saying that ultimately, this is all your choice. You don’t have to do anything. No matter what you may hear.” He seemed very concerned that she understood this point, and so Kara nodded, watching as something like relief passed over Clark’s face before he masked it.
(She’d noticed things like that happened rather often. He worked hard at maintaining a blank expression, looking bored even. But sometimes that mask slipped, and if you knew what to look for, it was obvious he struggled with keeping the mask at all.
It made her sad. She’d known him for only a few days, and yet she knew him enough to realize that he wanted to express himself fully.)
“When you were sent away, the plan was that you would be told the truth of who you are at eighteen, and that you would have three years in which to decide whether or not to accept the throne. If you said yes, then you would be crowned at twenty-five.” Clark chuckled a little mirthlessly. “As it must be quite obvious, the plan changed.”
“I don’t understand,” Kara said quickly, feeling a flare of panic, “aren’t you in charge?”
Clark laughed, a real one, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It made him look younger, happier. “I am the Regent. I only have the legal authority to govern in the rightful heir’s stead—your stead—until you turn twenty-five. Whether or not you accept the throne, my time as Regent will end then.”
Accept the throne ...accept the throne. As in…. “Most people get their first legal drink on their twenty-first birthday, not a country ,” Kara joked weakly, her heart pounding away. The panic was quickly overwhelming her every thought, and she could feel her breathing get heavy and quick. Clark seemed to notice because he pushed her cup of tea closer towards her, encouraging her to take a sip. But Kara’s hands were shaking too much, and all she ended up doing was slosh the tea into its saucer.
“I know this is a lot,” Clark said gently, reaching out hesitantly and placing a hand on her shoulder. “But the truth is that I’m not here to just tell you that you’re a princess. It’s to ask you to return to Krypton and assume your place on the throne as Queen.”
“Why?” Kara managed to ask, the single word encompassing several questions. Why now? Why did the plan change? Why couldn’t Clark remain on the throne? Why her ?
“Because your country needs you,” Clark said, answering none—or maybe all—of her unasked questions.
x
“Danvers!” Snapper called out, glaring at her as she approached. “Think you can slack off just because you wrote one decent article?” he asked her, glasses perched precariously at the edge of his nose.
“Decent?” Kara repeated, her lips quirking slightly.
Snapper huffed. “Don’t let it go to your head. I have a new assignment for you. Apparently, the Regent of a country called Krypton is in town and has been seen around campus. Find out more about it.”
Kara stumbled, literally tripped over nothing, at Snapper’s assignment, immediately trying to protest. “That’s not really hard-hitting investigative stuff, maybe I shouldn’t—”
“—Danvers, go away,” Snapper said tiredly, ignoring her completely. She watched as he walked off, biting her lip.
She couldn’t tell Snapper why she didn’t want to write the article—weirded out about writing on her own cousin as well as the fact that it was agreed they’d keep the princess thing a secret until she decided what she wanted to do—but she also couldn’t write the article. (It would be strange, she thought, to write about herself essentially.)
Kara let out a loud groan.
She should’ve known she’d have a shitty week the moment she had to have butterless toast.
x
“Princess lessons?” Kara repeated incredulously, raising her eyebrow. J’onn looked amused from where he stood in the corner of the room, but Clark just seemed exasperated. Kara made a face at Nia from behind Clark’s back, and she let out a giggle that had Clark turning to her with narrowed eyes.
“Think of it as a crash course. You’ll study Kryptonian history, culture, and learn how to walk, talk, and act like a member of the royal family,” Clark explained, straightening his tie unnecessarily. “These are things you need to know. Even if you renounce the throne,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Besides, the Prime Minister is flying in several weeks from now for a State dinner. I’d like for you to be there.”
“You would?”
Clark, despite all his regal reservations, actually rolled his eyes at her. “Of course I would. You’re not just the heir to the throne, Kara. You’re family.”
“And,” Nia added conspiratorially when Clark was out of earshot, “His Grace thinks your presence will keep the Luthors in line.” Kara shot her a confused look and Nia chuckled. “No worries, Your—Kara. It’ll be a part of your princess lessons.”
x
The next several weeks passed by in a blur.
Between the princess lessons and working at the university’s paper and her own coursework, Kara was literally rushing to places all the time, an increasingly worried J’onn taking to stocking snacks and drinks in the car he drove her around in.
Almost immediately, her wardrobe of jeans and sweatshirts was replaced by an array of pastel shirts and chinos, her worn sneakers giving way to expensive Oxfords. Her school bag was trashed after one lesson, and she was given a rather nice messenger bag as a ‘late birthday present’ from Nia.
After a week of lessons, she no longer slouched when she walked, her shoulders no longer hunching as if she was afraid of being noticed. After two weeks of lessons, she was more familiar with Krypton and its people in general, learning about their music, their food, their art.
After her third week of lessons, she no longer shuffled when Snapper talked to her, no longer broke eye contact when he expressed disappointment with how little she’d managed to dredge up about the Regent’s presence in National City. (Nia had helped with that, going over what she could and could not share, even offering a short comment on the record—just enough that Snapper was satisfied enough to let it drop for a while, but not enough to draw unwanted attention.)
Through it all, Alex had her back. She didn’t comment when Kara changed into her comfy sweatshirts the second she got home, or that she was requesting her comfort foods—pizza, potstickers, and ice cream—nearly every day. Alex held Kara’s hand when she felt overwhelmed, and pulled her into a warm hug while they watched The Good Place for the fifth time in a row. And as the days trickled on, as Kara came closer to the self-imposed deadline to decide what she wanted to do, her sister seemed to intuitively know what was holding her back.
“I’ll always have your back, you know,” Alex said one night, just days before the State dinner. She’d kept her tone purposefully light, hip checking Kara out of the way so that she could grab a beer out of the fridge. “No matter what you do or where you go. You’re my sister, and I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”
And suddenly, it became easier to breathe.
x
The day before the dinner, Nia and Querl Dox—or Brainy as he preferred to be called—sat her down to prepare for the actual event.
“Now remember,” Brainy explained, his tone taking on what Kara affectionately thought of as his ‘lecture mode,’ “though you have not yet accepted the throne, by lineage and blood you rank above even His Grace. Thus, you acknowledge your guests with a simple nod when introduced, and at the dinner itself you will be at the head of the table and will sit down first.”
“Right, but why?” Kara asked. “Clark is my cousin, he’s older. He’s a guy . He’s in charge. Shouldn’t he outrank me?”
“No, Your Highness,” Brainy said, shaking his head. Kara winced. She’d not been able to convince him to just call her by her name. “His Grace is Regent, thus merely a placeholder for the rightful heir. His actual title is Duke of Metropolis. He ranks below you, the Princess of Argo.” Brainy blinked for a moment and clearly decided this wasn’t explanation enough. “Of course, as Regent His Grace holds all governing power, and you do not outrank him in such matters. Not until you assume the throne.”
“Right, right,” Kara nodded, not quite getting it but unwilling to go down another discussion about titles and family trees and Kryptonian royalty. “So if I don’t take the throne, he becomes King right?” Kara asked, the thought occurring to her for the first time.
“No, Your Highness,” Brainy said again, this time accompanied by a concerned frown and a look towards Nia.
“Why not?” Kara asked, watching as Nia and Brainy had some sort of conversation with just their eyes. “Come on. I’ll find out eventually. Just tell me.”
“It isn’t that we don’t want to tell you,” Nia said bracingly, biting her lip, “it’s just that His Grace has asked us to not mention it until you’ve made your decision. He wants you to decide without any external influences, and he is sure this knowledge will influence you.”
“You mean that if I knew the whole truth, he thinks I wouldn’t accept?” That seemed rather underhanded and well, gross. She hadn’t thought Clark was capable of it.
Brainy frowned again and shook his head. “Quite the opposite, Your Highness. He is worried your honor and integrity would compel you to accept if you knew everything.”
Kara stared at them for a moment, thinking. “He’s ordered you not to tell me?” They both nodded. “But I outrank him?” They nodded again, this time with resignation. “So if I told you to tell me anyway, you could?” A third nod. Kara swallowed hard. “Tell me.”
Nia looked at Brainy, giving him an encouraging nod, and he cleared his throat. “Centuries ago, Krypton was ruled by a rather...ineffectual king. He allowed those with title and land to essentially pillage from the people without much interference. Eventually, there was an uprising. His daughter, known to her people as Elle, supported the uprising and Krypton was engulfed in a rather messy revolution.” Brainy paused, as if unsure if he should continue, plowing on when Kara gave him a small smile. “Eventually Krypton split into two smaller kingdoms: Krypton, ruled by Elle, and Daxam, ruled by her father.”
“As a way to maintain peace,” Nia picked up for Brainy, clearly noticing his reticence, “Queen Elle and her father agreed to remain independent from one another as long as their line existed. In Krypton, that line is the House of El.”
“That’s fascinating,” Kara said, “but I’m, uh, not quite sure how that relates to now.”
“Your Highness, in Krypton, the line of succession is through the female side of the family. His Grace is the son of your father’s brother. Thus, he is not a true El, and cannot inherit the throne. Only you can.”
Kara stared at Brainy for a moment, her words suddenly failing her. “Wait,” she finally managed. “Wait. So who does get the throne if I pass on it?”
“Prince Mon-El of Daxam,” Nia responded, saying the name like a curse. “It would be nothing short of catastrophic. Not only because no Kryptonian would ever consent to being ruled by a Daxamite, but also because Mon-El of Daxam is Viscount Luthor’s personal puppet.” She seemed infuriated at the very thought. “There would be a civil war on our hands.”
(She’d made her decision already, this didn’t change anything. And yet...and yet Kara’s heart pounded in her chest and she felt the vice like grip of fear around her throat, making it hard to breathe.
Fear for a country she’d come to love through her lessons. Fear for a people she didn’t even know but for whom she felt responsibility.)
“Luthor?” Kara questioned, realizing the name was familiar. “Isn’t he coming to dinner tomorrow? The member of Parliament?” She felt her mouth fall open. “Why would Clark invite the guy who wants to essentially steal the throne?”
At this, Nia grinned widely. “Oh, that was my idea,” she said happily. “Lex Luthor is a lot of things, but ignorant of the past is not one of them. He needs to see you.”
“Why?”
It was Brainy, surprisingly, who responded. “If I may be so bold, Your Highness,” he murmured, only continuing when Kara nodded. “You are Elle reborn. It is quite clear the crown is yours and yours alone.”
x
Not for the first time, Kara wished Alex could be with her at this stupid dinner. Her dress was uncomfortable, Clark had left her essentially alone the whole time, and all the guests—with the exception of an older, shorter woman with bright blue eyes and another woman with dark hair and brilliant green eyes—stared at Kara with poorly concealed looks of hunger. None of them knew who she was—Clark and Nia suggesting that Kara not make herself ‘known’ until the dinner itself, to give her an opportunity to get the lay of the land—and their open curiosity felt vaguely discomforting.
(“Politicians,” J’onn had said simply. “Vultures.”)
“You look almost as bored as the poor attendants,” said a voice into her ear, derailing her thoughts completely. Kara managed, just barely, to suppress a gasp at the dark haired, green eyed woman she’d spotted earlier. “First time?”
(She was pretty . More than just pretty. She was probably around the same age as Kara, but she seemed far more comfortable with the heavy jewelry and the stiff dresses. Her hair flowed in gentle curls to just past her shoulders, the neckline of her dress low enough to accentuate a beautiful necklace, a long neck, and—
Kara felt her mouth go dry.)
“Is it that obvious?” Kara asked her, glad her words came out normally and not a mumbled mess. (Alex had always said she was a disaster around pretty women, and here was the proof.)
“You have that look,” the woman said with a smile, head tilted slightly to the side. “But don’t worry, it’s quite adorable.”
Kara felt her cheeks heat up, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh. Well. Thank you.” She racked her brain for something to say, to continue this conversation. “Does it get better? Will I find my proverbial sea legs?”
“Oh yes,” the woman said seriously, though her smile widened, “you’ll undoubtedly get the hang of it. Of course, should you ever need it, I’m happy to provide my assistance.”
She was flirting. Right? Maybe? Kara blinked, feeling a little unsure, but mostly hoping that it was flirting. She opened her mouth, probably to say something stupid, when she felt a hand around her elbow.
“Ah, I see you’ve met Lena Luthor,” Clark said genially, though his eyes betrayed a bit of defensiveness. Kara looked from Clark to the woman. So this was Lena Luthor, sister to the man who wanted to steal the Kryptonian throne. No wonder Clark was defensive.
“Your Grace,” Lena said, dropping into a curtsy immediately.
“I’m very glad you could make it, even if your brother could not,” Clark continued, not dropping his hand from Kara’s elbow. Kara knew that Lena had noticed too. Her eyes had drifted down before refocusing. It occurred to Kara only then that she hadn’t curtsied as well. She wondered if Lena had caught that as well. (She wondered if all this overthinking was good for the heart.) “I hear Lex is intending to introduce a new bill in Parliament, and is too busy to attend.”
“I wouldn’t know, Your Grace,” Lena said smoothly, though Kara thought there was something about her smile that was absent before. Not anger, not annoyance, but maybe...exhaustion? “My brother and I have not seen eye to eye in some time, not since I took over L-Corp.” There was something in her tone, something that she wasn’t saying that Clark picked up on—clearly, there was some sort of context that neither Lena nor Clark wanted to make Kara privy to.
Clark finally released Kara’s elbow, his expression going from defensive to sympathetic before returning to its ordinary neutral state. It was so quick, Kara was sure Lena had missed it. “Yes, I’d heard about the strain in your relationship,” he said softly, and Lena eyed him with some measure of gratefulness, clearly glad he was dropping the topic of her brother so easily. “I am sorry, I hope that tonight won’t be too uncomfortable for you.” It was polite, it was kind, but it was also a dismissal. Even Kara, who was still new to all of this, could recognize it for what it was. She sighed internally, resigning herself to the sudden loss.
“Your Grace is too kind,” Lena murmured, dropping into another curtsy. With one final look and smile at Kara, she walked away, getting snatched up into a conversation with another dark-haired woman Kara believed was called Sam Aries.
“Be careful around her, Kara,” Clark said quietly once he was sure no one was within earshot. “Now. Come with me, I want to introduce you to Cat Grant before dinner.”
Kara nodded and followed him obediently, casting one look back, her heart stuttering when she realized Lena was looking at her too.
x
Nia gave Kara a covert thumbs up when it was announced dinner was ready. She hung back awkwardly with Clark as the others headed towards the dining room, only Lena and Cat Grant noticing that she did so. Though Lena’s eyes narrowed—seemingly putting it together—Cat just smiled knowingly.
(Their conversation had been so short, nothing more than a greeting and an exchange of names, but her eyes had glinted the entire time, and Clark’s frown when she walked away said more than he cared to admit.)
“Cat and I are between you and Luthor, so you can just focus on charming the others. You’re going to do great,” Clark said in an undertone, entering the dining room before she had a chance to respond, to tell him she didn’t really need protection from Lena. She took one deep breath and stepped in behind him, finding this whole experience stupidly surreal.
(To think, she thought to herself as she stepped forward, trying to remember to keep her head up and her back straight, just a month ago, her biggest worry was whether she could manage Snapper .)
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Kara Zor-El of Argo,” one of the attendants announced in a loud voice, immediately causing confused faces to turn towards her. Kara met Clark’s eyes over the head of their Prime Minister as she stopped at the head of the table. After a moment, she sat down, realizing the hardest part was over once everyone else followed suit.
And as Kara studied the faces at the table—some looking shocked, others pleased, a few ducking their heads closer together to whisper—she couldn’t help but focus on Lena.
She was smiling brightly, and when she noticed Kara’s gaze, she mouthed a single word: perfection .
x
About a week after the dinner, Kara found herself blessedly alone in the Consulate, curled up in the library with a book in her lap. Clark had flown back to Metropolis on ‘personal’ business, meaning that she had no lessons and wasn’t forced to wear the ‘proper’ attire. Instead, she was back in her favorite oversized hoodie, swapping out the contacts they asked her to wear for her ever-dependable glasses.
A loud knock on the open door jarred Kara out of her thoughts and book, looking up to see one of J’onn’s specially picked men standing at the doorway awkwardly. Though he’d been placed in charge while J’onn was away with Clark, the man didn’t seem to relish his job at all, preferring to be behind a computer screen. Kara wasn’t actually sure what he did, but he definitely didn’t seem very confident at the prospect of being a bodyguard.
“Your Highness, you have a visitor,” he said, seeming unsure what to do with his hands until he clasped them behind his back.
“I asked you to just call me Kara, Winn,” she sighed, bookmarking her page and setting the book aside. “Who is it? If it’s Brainy, tell him I’m not here. I’ve been promised a break from lessons and I want to enjoy it.”
Winn cracked a smile at that, relaxing enough that he even rocked back on his heels. “Ah, no. Fortunately not Brainy,” he said, smile widening when Kara let out a soft cheer. “It’s actually Ms. Lena Luthor. She says she’s here to see His Grace. I, um, well I thought you’d be an upgrade since he’s not here.” Winn seemed to realize what he said seconds after the words escaped him, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “Not that I—sorry I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off and just bowed low. “Sorry, Your Highness. Shall I send her up?”
Kara got to her feet and stretched, shaking her head at Winn. “No worries. I’ll just go meet her. I could use a walk, and some coffee too,” she added, a plan beginning to form in her mind.
“I can—”
“—no!” Kara interrupted, shocking Winn into silence. It was her turn to blush. “I just mean, there’s a coffee shop a block away. I’ll take a walk with Lena and see what she wants.”
Winn eyed her oddly, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he walked several steps behind her, clearly intending to follow her to the coffee shop if necessary. Kara stopped and turned to him, clapping him on the upper arm.
“Winn, remember what we talked about?” she asked him, giving him a look. Winn nodded immediately.
“Oh, right, sorry. Her Highness is a strong, independent woman who has lived in National City for nearly her entire life and she does not need a babysitter on campus or anywhere else,” he recited, as if it was the Pledge of Allegiance. Kara stared at him for a moment, wondering if it was worth it to talk to him again about dropping ranks and titles every time he spoke to her. (Though, judging from the way only Nia ever complied with the request, Kara rather thought she was fighting a losing battle.)
“Right,” she said instead, clapping his arm once more before leaving him and heading down the stairs.
Kara saw Lena before Lena saw her.
She was sitting in the same spot Kara sat the first time she came to the Consulate, waiting to see Clark, but where Kara had been a nervous wreck, Lena seemed utterly composed and at home. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, one hand thumbing the page of the thick book in her lap, her other hand propping up her chin rather inelegantly.
“You know, my cousin says I should be wary of you,” Kara said loudly as she approached Lena, watching as the other woman looked up in shock and immediately jumped to her feet, ending up in an awkward combination of a bow and curtsy.
“Your Highness,” she greeted, cheeks flushed and eyes averted as she straightened. “I...I didn’t know you’d be here,” she finished weakly, biting her lip and meeting Kara’s gaze. “I’m not nearly decent enough to be in the presence of the future Crown.”
(What a silly comment, Kara thought to herself. Lena was dressed as if she were royalty herself, with a form fitting dress, a beautiful coat, her handbag probably costing more than an entire year’s worth of rent.
If anyone wasn’t ‘decent’ it was Kara, suddenly feeling a little self conscious in her ratty old clothes.)
“I haven’t accepted anything yet,” Kara said, trying to remain focused, tilting her head to the side as she studied Lena. “Is he right? My cousin?” she added when Lena seemed confused.
“Ah, I see,” Lena said softly. One of her hands clasped her book, a finger marking her place. The other hand was nervously tapping against the arm of the couch. “I suppose that’s up to you, isn’t it?”
It was such a non-answer, what Snapper would call BS talk , forcing her to go back out and get a new quote. Kara wasn’t even sure what Lena was replying to: the admission she hadn’t accepted the throne yet or whether her cousin was right to be so defensive. And it occurred to Kara, in that moment, if Lena couldn’t be straight with her about something as simple as this, maybe Clark was right after all.
Something must’ve shown on Kara’s face, because Lena seemed almost crestfallen. “Look,” she began haltingly, all of her nervous energy dissipating in one sudden swoop, becoming unnaturally still, “His Grace does not trust my family, and he’s made no secret of it. And honestly, I don’t blame him. The things Lex has done….” She trailed off, clearly unwilling to get into it. “I can’t tell you what to do, I couldn’t possibly be so presumptuous. But I hope you would be willing to take the time to get to know me, to give me a chance to show you I’m not my brother or my name, before you make a decision either way.” She heaved in a deep breath as she finished speaking, her shoulders actually rising and falling with the action, her nervous tapping making a comeback in the silence that followed her words.
(Kara was not stupid . She wasn’t. She knew her feelings for Lena weren’t exactly strictly friendly, she knew that she was somewhat inclined to believe Lena. She knew, and she wasn’t exactly proud of it, that she was a tiny bit swayed by just how pretty Lena was.
And yet, despite all that, Kara still thought she would’ve believed Lena regardless. Even if she didn’t like her, even if she wasn’t attracted to her. There was something familiar in Lena’s hesitancy and nervousness, in the helplessness of the way she asked for a chance.)
Kara smiled.
“I actually have no idea what your brother’s done,” she said with a shrug, motioning for Lena to follow her. “And I’ve been told I’m annoyingly American, so maybe this is just silly, but I think that we should be judged on our own merits and no one else’s. Not even our family’s.”
“Your Highness—”
“—please don’t call me that,” Kara interrupted, sighing. “It’s just Kara.”
“If you choose to go through with this, it’s something you’ll have to get used to,” Lena said gently, though she smiled, taking the gentle bite out of her words. “Are you sure?” she asked, even though she fell into step next to Kara, clearly forgetting why she’d come to the Consulate at all. And again, it was such a silly thing to say, so unclear: was she asking about the name or about not judging her for her brother?
(For a moment, Kara wondered if Lena wasn’t even aware she was doing it, if it was a defense mechanism, a way to avoid being vulnerable—always ensuring she had plausible deniability in case things got too serious.)
“Is this your first time in National City?” Kara asked, ignoring Lena’s question entirely.
“No, but I’ve never stayed this long. I’m far more familiar with my hotel’s lobby and L-Corp’s National City branch than I am with the actual city.”
Kara grinned excitedly. “Great!” she said as she led them out of the Consulate and into the street. “I’ll show you around then. First, I’m going to take you to get the best coffee and sticky buns in the city. Afterwards, if you’re lucky, the best potstickers.”
Lena let out a surprised laugh, looking at Kara with a mix of confusion and gratitude, and Kara realized then that she was right about Lena, even if she barely knew her.
She just wished Clark could see that too.
x
Lena stared at her sticky bun with some trepidation.
“This whole thing is for one person?” she asked, frowning and looking up at Kara. Their waitress, Noonan’s eldery owner, laughed cheerfully.
“We call that our Kara-portion,” she informed Lena before winking at Kara, pouring them both a cup of coffee before walking over to another table.
“You have your own portion sizes?” Lena asked incredulously, making Kara shrug in response.
“It’s close to campus. I’m here a lot,” she said by way of explanation. This must have been enough for Lena, because she picked up her fork and dug into her Kara-portioned sticky bun, actually smiling as she chewed. “Good?” Kara asked, the answer mattering to her more than she thought it should have.
“Yes. Very.”
They stared at each other for a moment, the silence stretching just a bit too long to be comfortable.
“This is a little awkward, right?” Kara blurted out, realizing that maybe she didn’t think this through. Lena seemed a little relieved by the outburst.
“It’s...surreal. I’m having an enormous dessert with the future queen of my country when I was—oh! I was supposed to be meeting with His Grace!” She made to get up, stopping only when Kara reached out and grasped her by the wrist, tugging gently.
“Clark isn’t in town. I’m surprised Nia didn’t send you fifteen emails confirming the meeting was cancelled.” Kara let go of Lena’s arm and watched her relax back into her seat. There was a frown tugging on Lena’s lips, and Kara’s focus was momentarily drawn to the way Lena bit down on her lip in worry and—oh, Lena was speaking.
“—usually so much of a mess,” she was saying, giving Kara an apologetic look. “I’m not making a great impression, I don’t think.”
“Don’t think anything makes a worse impression than an old hoodie and my trademark ‘dork’ glasses,” Kara mumbled, gesturing to her clothes and face weakly.
“I think you look beautiful,” Lena said, and it was clearly not meant to be said aloud, because her cheeks reddened and she immediately focused her eyes on her sticky bun. But the comment still left Kara breathless, clearing her throat awkwardly and taking a sip of her coffee.
“I have an idea,” she said after a long pause, waiting until Lena looked up to continue, “what if we skip all the awkward ‘meeting for the first time’ conversations? Let’s just skip the shallow stuff and move straight to the deep stuff.”
Lena laughed and leaned forward, placing her arms on the table. “All right. Deep stuff. Let’s do it.”
“Aliens, real or not real?” Kara asked seriously, filled with a bit of pride when this had Lena letting out a snort of laughter, almost despite herself.
“ That’s the deep stuff?”
“It’s a serious question, Lena. Trust me, I know hard hitting questions, I’m studying journalism.”
“Well, then I’ll defer to your knowledge,” Lena returned with a soft smile, one eyebrow raised, relaxing further into her chair. “I think...I think the universe is far too vast for there not to be something else out there. It seems awfully egocentric of mankind to think we’re one of a kind.” She bit her lip and met Kara’s eyes briefly. “What do you think?” she asked.
Kara shrugged. “Aliens are definitely out there,” she said easily, having made up her mind years ago, under the starry sky with Jeremiah and Alex. “But I also think that the intelligent life out there is far too intelligent to come anywhere near this planet. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our species is sort of a mess.”
“Well, that’s sorted. NASA has nothing on you and me,” Lena commented dryly, making Kara laugh. “Next question?” she asked, actually seeming a bit eager.
“Hmm...is it possible to fall out of love?”
Lena met Kara’s eyes briefly once more, looking a little surprised by the question. “That is deep,” she said after a moment, clasping her hands together almost as if in an attempt to keep them still. “Do you mean romantic love?” she clarified. At Kara’s nod, she let out a soft hum. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think so.” She let out a little laugh when Kara just looked at her curiously, wanting her to say more. “It’s hard to say when you’ve never been in love. What about you? Do you think it’s possible to fall out of love?”
“Oh no,” Kara said immediately, shaking her head to accentuate her point. “I don’t think we fall out of love, we just realize that love isn’t enough. But I think if you really love someone, you’ll always love that person. In some form or other.”
Lena unclasped her hands, tapping softly against the table. “Yes,” she said softly, looking lost in thought. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“Okay, last question,” Kara said, wanting to draw Lena out of whatever had her looking so confused, “why is that you won’t meet my eyes for longer than a second at a time?”
Lena didn’t laugh so much as she let out some sort of strangled chuckle, like she was shocked and amused and horrified all at once. “You really are very American,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a compliment, mostly,” she continued when Kara opened her mouth to protest. But Kara was totally silenced, all thoughts of defending her own honor dissipating, when Lena finally met and held her gaze.
(Her eyes were so bright, so intelligent, so kind, that Kara momentarily couldn’t think of anything other than the flecks of grey in Lena’s green eyes.)
“Do you not look people in the eye in Krypton?”
“Oh we do, we just don’t look the future queen in the eye. You know, they say that the only one who even knew what color Queen Alura’s eyes were was her husband, King Zor-El.” Lena smiled, and it made crinkles form in the corners of her eyes, and Kara forgot to protest the fact that this was the second time Lena assumed she’d be taking the throne. “But I’d hazard a guess that her eyes were as brilliantly blue as yours.”
Kara felt her mouth open and close several times before she managed to use her words. “Wow,” she said, trying and failing to sound sarcastic. “That was smooth.”
“Yes, I thought so too,” Lena said, looking terribly proud of herself.
“I’m going to have to figure out more places to show you,” Kara said after a short, comfortable silence. When Lena eyed her quizzically, she grinned. “I need more excuses to spend time with you.”
“Smooth,” Lena said sarcastically, but she was smiling, and her green-grey eyes were alight.
So Kara took it as a win.
x
When she looked back on it, she realized something was bound to go wrong eventually.
First, Clark’s trip got extended, but Nia and J’onn returned to National City—the latter because he’d become aware of how ‘lax’ Kara’s security had become in his absence, and the former because she wanted to continue Kara’s princess lessons—and they both expressed the same concerns about the increasing amount of time Kara spent with Lena.
If that wasn’t enough, between everything she had to juggle in her private life and just making it to her classes, she barely had time for the paper. She knew the work she was handing over to Snapper was subpar, and she knew he wasn’t at all happy with the change in quality of her writing, at least if his increasingly thinned lips and deeper grunts were anything to go by.
But the worst of the worst happened several weeks after Lena and Kara first went to Noonan’s: she became frontpage news.
She was getting lunch with Lena when mics were shoved into her face, camera flashes nearly blinding her, and endless questions ringing in her ears.
“Are you going to take the throne, Kara?”
“How do you feel about the President’s tweets on the news Krypton will have a new leader?”
“Who’s the girl, Princess? Are you in a relationship?”
J’onn, who had taken to following her around everywhere, pushed through the crowd of reporters, placing himself between Kara and the most aggressive of the journalists. Kara gripped the sleeve of his jacket, grateful for his presence, wishing for nothing more than for the noise and the lights and the crowd to go away .
“Enough!” someone shouted, breaking through all the rabble, silencing everyone. It took a moment for Kara to realize that it was Lena. “Everyone needs to take a step back. Now ,” she said, and to Kara’s shock, the reporters complied. “Princess Kara?” Lena said softly, motioning for Kara to walk through the space made for her.
“We have questions! How do you feel about Viscount Luthor’s—”
“—seeing as though I am a Luthor, that question is better addressed to me,” Lena interrupted, now sounding a bit angry. “J’onn, if you could help Princess Kara return to the Consulate, I’ll be along shortly.”
J’onn nodded, and before Kara could protest, before she could grab Lena and drag her along with them, J’onn practically pulled Kara away.
And the last thing she saw before she was driven away was Lena’s stony expression as the reporters focused all their questions on her.
x
“How could you be so foolish!” Clark said, glaring at J’onn, then Nia, before turning his gaze on Kara. “All three of you!” He pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples, looking tired and older than he was. “Even if Kara’s ignorance can be excused, you two know better. You both know what is at stake, who Lex is, what he’s capable of. Did neither of you think to mention to me that my cousin, the heir to the throne, was spending time with Luthor ?”
“Don’t do that,” Kara cut in quietly, stepping forward and standing in front of Nia and J’onn. “They didn’t do anything wrong, and Lena’s not like that.”
“Lena’s not like that?” he repeated incredulously. “Do you even hear yourself, Kara? Who do you think leaked your identity to the press? Who do you think told people where to find you? Why do you think she’s even still here in National City, when her life and work is all back in Metropolis?”
“That’s not—”
“—you’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment,” Clark continued, ignoring Kara entirely. “This isn’t a joke, Kara. This isn’t a game. This isn’t that silly Krystal Harris song you never stop singing. You are meant to be Queen . If you can’t take it seriously, then maybe you shouldn’t be Queen after all.”
Nia let out a squeak of protest at his words; J’onn took an audible deep breath, almost as if preparing himself to interject. But Kara spoke before either of them could get into more trouble on her behalf.
“I never thought of it as a joke, Clark,” she said quietly. “But you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t be Queen.” She wasn’t sure if her tone or her words sparked guilt and regret in him, his anger replaced almost as soon as it came, but she also didn’t care. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left Clark’s office.
She’d barely taken two steps when she came face-to-face with Lena.
“Kara, I—”
“—I have to go,” Kara rushed out, not wanting to talk, not wanting to stop, not wanting Lena see her cry, “Snapper, you know?” It didn’t make sense, but she supposed Lena knew her well enough by now, because she just nodded and stepped aside.
And Kara ran.
x
Things only got worse.
Snapper refused to speak with her, to even acknowledge she was with the paper, bluntly informing her that she’d placed the journalistic integrity of the university paper at risk when she wrote about Krypton, something she had personal ties to and should have disclosed.
Alex determinedly refused to offer any advice either way—refusing to even tell Kara her thoughts about Lena, Clark, or Snapper, claiming her job was only to be there for her, not tell her what to do something Kara “had enough of already,” which Kara figured was Alex expressing her opinion anyway.
And then there was J’onn. He still accompanied her everywhere, still drove her wherever she wanted to go, but now it came with soft sighs and knowing expressions, things that Kara was determined to ignore—a rule she broke only a few days later.
“Let me guess,” she said from where she sat in the back of the car, “you think Clark was right.”
“No,” J’onn said simply.
“No?”
“No,” he repeated, pulling over before turning to look at her, pushing his sunglasses up so he could meet her eyes. “You’re an adult, Just Kara,” he told her, his eyes kind. “I told you before, you should trust your instincts. They haven’t steered you wrong yet.”
Kara scoffed. “Try telling that to Clark. Besides, I was wrong about Lena.”
“I’m afraid, this once, you’re wrong,” J’onn chuckled, turning around and facing the front once more. He tapped a hand against the steering wheel. “His Grace has been hurt by Lex Luthor, and that blinds him, makes him see what he wants to see.” He studied Kara’s expression from the rearview mirror. “I had Winn do some digging. Lena Luthor was not the one who exposed you to the press.”
“Oh,” Kara said, feeling numb.
“Yes, oh,” J’onn said, pushing his sunglasses back onto his face. “You already have all the makings of a great leader, Princess,” he informed her as though it was fact and not just his opinion. “But how could you ever stand up for your country if you’re unable to even stand up for yourself and those you love?”
x
Kara sighed as she tossed the school paper to the side, not quite used to looking at her own face staring up at her.
One On One With NCU’s Own Kara Danvers, Future Queen of Krypton , read the headline, some senior that Kara didn’t know well getting the byline. The questions had been simple, pre-arranged with Nia, and in return for the extraordinary exclusive, Snapper had allowed Clark to see the finished product before publication (though he steadfastly refused to make any of Clark’s suggested edits).
Snapper was overjoyed, even if he didn’t really know how to show it. It was the most successful print in the university’s history, garnering thousands of views on the website alone and giving NCU the sort of traction it hadn’t had since Lois Lane was a student there.
(Of course, in return for breaking the news through her school’s paper, Clark had asked her to formally announce her intent to accept the throne in a ‘true’ press conference.
And while wearing the blues and reds of Krypton, the House of El’s coat of arms hanging behind her head, the press conference had gone surprisingly well.)
“Are you sure you don’t want me to just grab her?” the woman from the front desk asked again, looking nervously at Kara. “Ms. Luthor would want her meeting interrupted if she knew you were here.”
“Oh no, that’s okay. You sure she won’t mind if I wait for her here?”
“Yes, of course. Make yourself at home, Your Highness. Let me know if you change your mind about the tea.”
Kara nodded at her and watched her leave, closing the door to Lena’s office with a resounding click . After she was sure the woman was gone, Kara let out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders, turning to look around.
Lena’s office wasn’t that big, not really. It was modern, impersonal, the only touches of the person Kara had gotten to know in the flowers at her desk and the bit of red lipstick left on the empty coffee cup tossed in the trash. Kara sighed as she sat down at one of the chairs in front of Lena’s desk, momentarily amusing herself with alternate realities and meeting Lena across this desk for the first time—not as the future Queen of a country, but as a regular person, a journalist.
She was so lost in thought she wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed before she heard Lena’s unmistakable voice and the door to the office flew open.
“—I want to get them on board, Jess, so—”
“—yes, of course, Ms. Luthor. But you have a—”
“—Kara?” Lena said, stopping in her tracks. She looked to Jess who mouthed something, and she seemed to catch herself. “I mean—Your Highness,” she corrected, dropping into a curtsy.
“I’ll go get some tea,” Jess muttered quickly, walking backwards until she reached the door, before slipping outside and pulling it firmly shut. Kara was sure she wasn’t going to come back—at least, not until Lena called for her.
“Your Highness, to what do I owe the...unexpected...pleasure?” Lena asked, keeping her eyes on Kara even as she walked over to the chair next to Kara and sat down. It occurred to Kara that Lena didn’t feel she was allowed to sit at her own desk, at her own chair, because she didn’t want to somehow offend Kara or her rank.
It was so stupid.
“I thought we agreed it was just Kara.”
“And I told you it was something you had to get used to if you accepted who you are,” Lena returned gently, not quite meeting Kara’s eyes. She was overly focused on Kara’s forehead. It was just a little unnerving. “I don’t think you should be here,” she continued after a moment, looking conflicted.
“Why not?”
“I don’t think His Grace approves,” Lena joked, the humor falling flat because of just how true the comment was. Kara shrugged carelessly.
“Oh, Clark and I talked. We agreed on a few things.”
Lena met Kara’s gaze briefly and warily, her confusion evident. “Is that so?”
“Yup,” Kara said, grinning as she popped the ‘p.’ “He admitted that that Krystal Harris song I like so much is actually fantastic, and he apologized for slandering it.”
“As is only right,” Lena said, and for a mad moment Kara had a wild thought: given some time, she was rather sure she’d fall in love with Lena Luthor.
“He also apologized for assuming that I wasn’t taking this princess thing seriously. Though I conceded that my making faces behind his back at Nia wasn’t doing me any favors.”
“I’m really glad you said yes,” Lena said seriously, her eyes dropping to her lap. “You’re going to make a wonderful Queen. The picture of perfection. I have absolutely no doubt.”
“And that brings me to the most important thing Clark and I talked about,” Kara continued, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as she thought they were thanks to Lena’s unsolicited comment. “He realized he was being very unfair to the woman I liked so much, that he needed to be a little bit more American in his approach.” She bit her lip. “I think he’s sending a gift basket in apology for assuming you were the one who told the press about me. Though he’s still sure your brother had something to do with it.”
“I’m rather sure he did, too,” Lena sighed, wringing her hands together. “Kara, I’m—”
“—you’re Lena,” Kara interrupted, reaching out and taking one of Lena’s hands. “You made me feel better at an extravagant dinner and between the two of us we’ll prove aliens are out there. And I’d very much like it if you would go out with me. On a date. During which you actually look me in the eye.”
“Do you think it’s allowed, Your Highness?” Lena asked in jest, raising her head just a bit, her eyes finally— finally —meeting Kara’s and staying there.
(And Kara wanted to revise her earlier mad, wild thought: she was rather sure she was already falling in love with Lena Luthor.)
“I’m sure it is, I asked Brainy. Apparently, it’s custom in Krypton to kiss if you choose to accept the date,” Kara said, a little bit drunk on the green-grey of Lena’s eyes.
“A picture of perfection, for sure,” Lena muttered, “but you’re also going to be the dorkiest Queen we’ve ever had.”
“Do you think so?” Kara asked, just a tiny bit worried. “I mean, I think I’m—”
Lena cut her off, which Kara was sure was an offense to her title and rank, but considering Lena interrupted her with a kiss, Kara decided she’d let it go.
Just this once, anyway.