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“WAR?? What do you MEAN they’ve declared war?” Jupiter was practically tearing her hair out. Luckily her audience, Caine and Stinger, had gotten through their ‘afraid of Jupiter’s wrath’ phase and were mostly unfazed by her screams.
“You are technically an Empire, Your Majesty,” Stinger tries to ease the queen back into her chair. “And as such, other Empires may declare war on you from time to time.” He made it sound so normal, so mundane, but Jupiter’s head was spinning.
“So they’re coming here?”
“Yes,” Caine answers apologetically, knowing this is the worst part for her, when her home planet is in danger.
“But why?” She groans, and Caine pretends the sound doesn’t make his ears pink.
Stinger scrolls through the brief Diomika Tsing sent to his implant. “They say you defiled a sacred garment,” Stinger shrugs. These things were usually pretty arbitrary when it came to inter-Entitled wars. He once fought a three-month battle trying to end a scuffle between two Entitleds who had a spat about the name for their new cruiser.
“A garme—OH” Jupiter gasps, eyes going wide and a hand covering her mouth. She turns to Caine, hoping her can read her mind so she doesn’t have to admit to Stinger what she’s just realized. He cocks his head in patient confusion. “Your..” She gestures subtly to her neck. He looks down at his neck and back up. “Your collar!” she whispers loudly, frustration and embarrassment burning red on her face.
Caine, for his part, looks marvelously unashamed, quirking his eyebrows as if still trying to unpack what she is saying. “Why would they care about the—“ he repeats her earlier gesture.
Stinger, who clearly knows what they are talking about, has blessedly turned his head dow and is kindly ignoring Her Majesty’s sputters.
“They may have said something about it being an ancient royal something or other when I bought it,” Jupiter admits and Caine blanches.
“You—You put an Ancient Entitled Artifact on a—a splice?”
“Is that why they started the war? Because you’re a splice?” This tone is different than earlier, and while he’s not scared for himself, Caine can smell the rage bursting from his love’s pores, ready to ignite anyone who dares defy her. He doesn’t speak. “If I had worn the stupid thing myself they wouldn’t have declared war, would they?” No one answers, but Caine nods slightly.
Both splices watch in captivated admiration as their queen forces her anger down, transforming it inside herself until all that is left is someone powerful, someone ready. When her scent has shifted to something more determined, she seats herself again, tenting her hands on the table in front of her. “Ok. How do we win a war?"