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When Kara curls around Lucy, the pod is tight around them. Worse than that day on Krypton — it presses on her shoulders, makes her ribs constrict against the claustrophobia.
She has a course plotted to a planet, the planet Mon-El had wanted to flee to, once upon a time. But she knows that they won't make it. The pod doesn't have the range, the power, or the life support to carry two beings that far.
Hopeless , she thinks.
But Lucy sleeps. On earth they'd faced certain death. Certain death to likely death was still an improvement: At least now they'd die peacefully in hibernation.
Kara falls asleep with her nose in Lucy's soft hair, and knows nothing more.
---
A jolt shakes Kara awake. Disoriented, she reaches for Lucy and finds the girl still curled in her arms, asleep. She doesn't fully regain her bearings until rough hands haul her out of the pod. She lashes out with a roar, one arm wrapped tight around Lucy while the other grasps blindly. She connects with something that goes, oof , before she falls to her knees and blinks up into the muzzle of a weapon.
"Remain on your knees, Kryptonian."
She obeys, wrapping her free arm around Lucy, still asleep. Thoughts of slavers, marauders, pirates flash across her blurry mind even as the world dims once more. Her last thought is a prayer she didn't condemn them both to a life worse than a death on Earth.
---
"The queen will see you now."
Days of rest have returned Kara's strength — as much as she could have without Earth's yellow sun — but she doesn't resist the implicit command to follow the guard. Lucy pads along beside her, healthy but silent.
She hasn't spoken a word since waking up, and Kara has said little more. They make a tranquil pair as they wind through the palace halls towards the throne room. A fog still fills Kara's mind, blurring the details of the space around her. She counts bodies and weapons and turns, but absorbs nothing else.
Not until a gauzy curtain parts and they're thrust into an open throne room, lined with guards and noble spectators. Not until her eyes land on a pale, dark-haired figure sat upon the throne in a white gown.
A figure that stares at her with wide green eyes.
Recognition sparks to life the same moment the queen surges to her feet.
Guards and nobles react in alarm: Weapons are leveled at them, while the nobles draw back with nervous gasps.
But Lena doesn't break eye contact. In her eyes Kara sees a sudden hope flare and die in the space of a heartbeat. They stare as the haze of the past decade lifts.
"Supergirl."
A lump catches in Kara's throat at the invocation of a name long dead. To cover it, she lets her gaze slide to the guards, and only then does the queen seem to notice her people's readiness.
"Stand down," Lena commands. They obey instantly, and green eyes return to Kara. "Supergirl and her companion are guests of the crown. Please tend to them accordingly."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Lena turns back to Kara, bestowing a gentle smile that covers the moisture glistening in her eyes. "You've come a long way: You must be exhausted from your travel. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish."
Kara accepts the kindness with a minute nod. "Thank you."
Questions conflict in Lena's features, and Kara tightens her grip on Lucy's hand as though the little girl could protect her from the onslaught. But Lena only folds her hands and lifts her chin with that same soft smile. "Captain, please escort them to the royal guest suite. Please rest."
They’d been in the throne room for less than three minutes by the time Kara paces after the guard captain. Only after the door closes behind them does she realize that the entire exchange had been in Kryptonian.
----
Kara expects the knock at the door of their assigned chambers, but not the way the queen’s eyes send an arc of electricity down her spine when she opens the portal. Recognition sparks in pits of Kara’s memories, but not to the images that once remained of Earth’s last and lost Luthor.
The years have passed differently for Lena Luthor than they have for Kara. She doesn’t look like the seventy-year old she should be by Earth time, but she is not the image of her memorial photos either. Faint lines of gray disrupt the ebony of her hair, and creases have begun to pinch at the corners of her eyes.
Her eyes… are as piercing as ever.
They drink her in, cataloging the pull of Kara’s shirt and the constraint of her ragged pants, reconciling the sigil on her chest with the Supergirl last seen in a cape and skirt. Kara knows she is not the same as she was fifty years ago.
The queen absorbs the whole of Kara, and processes its meaning with the swift intellect the world once remembered her for.
“Earth is gone.”
The words issue bluntly from Lena’s lips, unafraid of the truth she already knows. Kara remembers now what Lena Luthor used to be. What she still is.
"Yes."
The queen nods, swallowing thickly. "How?"
"Nuclear winter." It doesn't matter, now, who the players were, or who started it. No one else remembers. No one alive cares.
Green eyes dip briefly, the only outward sign of any sorrow she might feel. Then her chin lifts, and her gaze is as calm as any regent’s as it meets Kara’s, then slides to Lucy sleeping in the bed behind her.
“You and your…”
“Lucy,” Kara supplies, casting an ear behind her to confirm the girl is still sound asleep. All she detects is the faint puff of steady breath against the pillow.
The queen’s smile curls softly on gentle lips. “You and your Lucy are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Daxam is honored to host a hero of Earth.”
For a long moment, they stand in silence. Those green eyes cloud with a thousand questions, and Kara fights the urge to turn away.
The queen blinks, dispelling those questions with a benign, but gracious tilt of her head. “I’ll leave you to your rest,” she delivers smoothly. “Sleep well, Supergirl.”
The queen of Daxam turns then, and departs in a whisper of silk. Her white garments billow around her legs, and a sheer cape flows from square shoulders. Though she doesn’t look back, Kara finally pieces together the haunting familiarity she couldn’t place.
She looks like Alura.
---
They don’t see Lena again for days.
Kara and Lucy are assigned a steward, who informs them that they are free to go where they please, and that the resources of Daxam are at their disposal. Though Kara waits for the summons she believes inevitable, it never comes.
There’s little Kara can do — even if Lena would agree to gift them a ship, there was nowhere Kara could go that would be any safer than the Daxamite stateship. Here they have air, shelter, and sustenance, along with the one thing she wouldn’t find anywhere else — an ally.
Still, Kara keeps herself and Lucy to the chambers assigned them. At first, they sleep, eat, and sleep some more. But when Lucy can’t sleep anymore, the lack of movement makes her anxious. She has yet to speak, but their attendant spots her restlessness and offers a tour.
Kara accepts for want of anything better to do.
As they walk the halls, Lucy’s hand tucked tight in Kara’s, the steward shares the story of Lena’s ascent. How, when faced with a forced marriage and a multitude of space between her and Earth, she’d chosen to rule at King Mon-El’s side. How her many detractors dwindled to some, and then few, as her efforts led Daxam to stability and progress.
The only thing she’d yet to win them is a new planet to call home.
“King Mon-El led the expeditionary forces for many years, searching for suitable planets,” the steward informs them, pausing beside a mural etched into the bulkhead. The carved lines are limned with beren crystals, shimmering in the light. Kara gazes up at the stylized rendering of the man she once loved, and feels absolutely nothing until her gaze slides to the woman etched into the bulkhead at his side. It shows the queen in stiff but undeniable glory — chin raised, jaw sharp, eyes curved slightly at the corners as though she had a secret tucked up her sleeve.
“We were all devastated when he did not return,” the steward says, gazing up at their absent king, “but Queen Ley-na has served us all well despite her loss. Though I am ashamed of how she came to us, I thank Rao every day that she did.”
Kara gazes at the engraving, studying the stony visage. Progress and prosperity isn’t far-fetched for a Luthor, not even one roped into a forced marriage. But in gazing at the stylized rendering, she wonders what else of Daxam has soaked into the queen’s exalted frame.
“How much is she paying you?"
The first words to spill from her lips that day do so in heady anticipation: Kara remembers Daxam and the practices Rhea had so cheerfully justified over the single meal they ever shared.This steward, as loyal as he was, would have been as much a slave as—
"Thirty-two rrhaz per day," comes the bright reply. "Much more than I made previously. In a few months, I will have saved enough to take my daughter to visit Thangar and see their emerald oceans."
The steward continues on, leaving Kara to stare another long moment before trailing along behind him.
---
Lucy doesn't speak. She drinks in the palace around her with wide eyes, with something close to wonder, but her voice remains asleep. Maybe it got lost in the darkness of space, like Kara once was. It’s been a long time since they’ve been in one place for so long; since they had their fill of food; since strangers meant something other than danger.
On nights Lucy can’t sleep, they take to wandering. They find the gardens, cultivated by a cycle of solar lamps and a night sky projected on the bulkheads. Wild and wondrous plants crowd against the bounds of the footpaths, flowers of all colors and shapes and textures. It’s a world within a ship, and Lucy falls madly in love. At night the paths glow in the false moonlight, glowing with ripples with every happy bounce of Lucy’s step.
They’re on one of their sleepless walks when they turn a shimmering bend and come upon the queen herself, sitting alone on a bench without an attendant or advisor in sight. The sinuous imitation of an aurora spills undulating waves of lilac across pale features.
Kara stops short, unwilling to move forward yet unable to retreat. Before she can force her feet to move, the queen turns, skewering Kara against the dark with sharp eyes.
“Supergirl,” the queen greets them. Kara stiffens, torn between bowing and bolting. Uninterested in formality, Lena’s gaze turns to Lucy. “And you must be Lucy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Kara watches Lucy — it’s been a long time since a stranger has meant anything other than danger. But in the pale shadows, Lucy’s eyes stare at the queen with rapt fascination.
“My name is Lena,” she continues, seemingly unconcerned by Lucy’s silence. She pats the bench next to her. “Would you like to join me?”
Lena doesn’t address the invitation to Lucy specifically, but Kara treats it as if she has. She looks down to meet Lucy’s gaze. “Up to you, kiddo.”
Kara’s lack of concern is enough for Lucy. After a moment’s hesitation, her hand slips from Kara’s, and she pads quietly over to the bench. When she clambers up to sit next to the queen of Daxam, the regent makes no move to reach for her. She only watches, her gaze warm in the night. Though a spectrum of light shimmers above them, Lucy finds greater interest in Lena’s skirt. Small fingers dig into the fabric, rubbing her palm against it.
“It’s soft, isn’t it?”
Lucy doesn’t respond. The queen doesn’t push for one.
“Did you know Daxam produces this cloth? We synthesized a silk based on the protein strands produced by a six-legged arachnid we met on a planet we visited six cycles ago. We weren’t able to use the organic material, as it happened to have a particular hallucinogenic effect on Daxamite physiology, but it was incredibly light, and versatile…”
A tree stands at the edge of the queen’s refuge, and Kara leans against it, watching the two figures as the garden fills with a low, smooth voice.
—
Kara’s insomnia manifests in fits of sleeplessness and deep sleep. One morning, she oversleeps and wakes up to an empty chamber. She pulls up the security feed, and scrolls through the footage until she spots the moment Lucy climbs onto a chair to swipe her hand over the sensor. She tracks Lucy’s progress through the ship, jumping from feed to feed until she pads into the throne room on slippered feet. Kara watches as Lucy makes her way to where the queen is holding audience. Her stomach tightens when the guards shift warily at the girl’s approach, until Lena’s hand lifts to put them at ease. The room stares as Lucy climbs up and plants herself in a royal lap.
Kara and the entire room wait with bated breath, watching for the queen’s reaction.
But Lena’s arms loosely loop themselves around Lucy, and Kara reads Lena’s lips as they move: “Please continue.”
The petitioner continues to present their case, all while Lucy sits quietly in the queen’s lap.
The steward waits just outside the door. He greets her with a smile. “The throne room is this way.”
Grateful for the guidance, Kara follows sedately.
From the back of the reception chamber, Kara watches the queen continue the petitions. Lucy regards each one solemnly without making a sound, as gravely as though she were the one rendering judgment. The petitions are all petty grievances, business disputes and complaints between neighbors. The queen hears each one and renders gentle, firm judgment. She allocates resources and assigns restitutions in the same low cadence with which she’d greeted Supergirl that first day in that very same room. Kara remains mingled among those crowding the edge of the room, lining the walls with solemn regard. She watches Lucy as the girl takes Lena’s hand in both of hers, curling slender fingers one by one and tracing the lines of Lena’s palm. Through it all, the queen doesn’t stumble once, allowing the child to manipulate her appendages as she likes. With her other hand, Lena gently combs through the fine strands of Lucy’s hair, freshly washed in their natural bouncy curls so unique to human children.
After a good while, the queen scans the spectators between petitioners, and finds Kara’s gaze in the crowd. She quirks an eyebrow in question, nearly imperceptible, to confirm Supergirl’s approval of the girl in her lap. Kara gives a single nod, holding the queen’s gaze until Lena looks away to address the next citizen in line.
As the proceedings continue apace, Kara takes her leave, satisfied that Lucy is both safe and adequately occupied. Better than the girl being restricted to quarters and forced to watch her guardian sleep. Kara considers the benefit of warning Lucy against visiting the throne room while court is in session, but quickly abandons the idea. The queen certainly didn’t seem perturbed by the development, and if Lucy happened to find another human she could trust… Kara certainly won’t stand in the way.
—
The image of them lingers in Kara’s mind as she drifts through the days that follow. Any attempt to tear herself away from the sight is met by the unyielding panels of the bulkheads, holding her fast on all sides and slowly compressing until she feels as though the entire weight of Krypton sits on her chest.
One night, when Lucy is deep asleep and Kara feels the room caving in, she seeks refuge from the unbearable pressure by escaping into the corridor. It squeezes her along its length, winding her around corners and along cut throughs until she doesn’t know where she came from or where she’s going… until she looks up and finds herself in what can only be the royal wing.
The metal bulkheads hang with rich tapestries, and the lights are warmer, softer. And it’s quiet. So, so quiet.
She only identifies the queen’s chambers by virtue of the pair of guards flanking a broad portal decorated with lines of Daxamite script. Kara nearly retreats, not interested in whatever scuffle waits if she presses forward. But when the guards catch sight of her, they don’t warn her away.
Instead they swipe their palms in unison over the activation sensors, parting the hatch to allow her access.
Faced with such an invitation, Kara can do nothing but follow her feet inside.
An empty receiving room greets her when the door hisses shut behind her. Beyond that, a high-ceilinged study with a broad desk covered with correspondence, star charts and diagrams. Here there are signs of life in a platter of half-eaten food and an empty goblet of Starhaven crystal.
The throne room — and every other that Kara has seen thus far — follows the Daxam style of sharp edges and flat surfaces, hard and unyielding. But in this, the queen’s private refuge, Earth abounds in the cushions that adorn every surface, and the soft shawl that hangs across the back of the desk chair.
All it lacks is the queen herself.
Kara finds her beyond an open hatch, half-hidden by a sheer curtain that flutters in a false breeze. Kara steps out onto the small observation deck, and for a moment forgets that she’s on a ship hurtling through the utter nothing that exists between systems. Overhead shines a velvet sky pinpricked with stars, aglow with the light of a silver moon.
It’s a long, long moment before Kara recognizes it as Earth’s moon.
For the second time in as many run-ins, Kara stops short, and the scuff of her boot against the deck pulls the queen’s gaze to her.
“Change view,” she says sharply, and instantly the sky changes to some nightscape of two moons and purple auroras. A pale hand lifts to dry the glint of tears from her cheeks. “Supergirl—”
“Could you—?” Kara asks, giving into the longing in her heart. She moves to stand beside the queen, lifting her chin toward the false heavens. “It’s— been a long time since I’ve seen it.”
The queen blinks at her — at her request, her proximity, or both, Kara can’t say. But she clears her throat and turns forward without question.
“Show home.”
The sky immediately returns to a deep velvet blue, peppered with a familiar expanse of glittering stardust. The moon and her pocked face outshines all, big and pale and beautiful. Kara stares up at it in muted glory, until her awe shifts to a familiar ache. It reminds her of Earth, but more than that, it reminds her of Midvale, and nights spent on the roof with Alex, staring up at the stars from which Kara had come, once upon a time.
Now, here she was among them once more, bereft of a second world. Without Alex — without James, Winn, Nia — without a single human save the one she lost decades ago.
“As a rule, Daxam surveys the night skies of every world they visit,” the queen says quietly, her voice thick. “I found Earth’s, almost a year in and I...” A damp cough scrapes from her throat. “Well, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to home.”
She wipes her cheeks again, and Kara watches the motion from the corner of her eye. A shawl similar to the one she’d seen in the study sits wrapped around the queen’s shoulders, and just as Kara has grown at her own seams, in this moment the queen looks smaller than she ever has before.
“I thought I’d given up hope of ever seeing it again,” she says quietly, ducking her chin. “Guess not.”
Kara remains silent, uncertain of what to say. Once upon a time, she’d been wracked by guilt for having been unable to save her friend before the Daxamite fleet fled. Since then, others have joined her list of casualties, and Lena Luthor had gotten buried beneath everyone else, until only Lucy was left.
“Mon-El didn’t go on an expedition,” the queen offers to the simulated night. “He just… left. About the same time I found this sky. He left a note, telling us not to retrieve him.”
“You did anyway?”
“We tried. I was terrified — selfishly, of what it would mean for me. Everything was still so new, and without him..."
"They wouldn't have accepted you as queen."
"I was sure I’d be a prisoner again, or worse. But I’d made a few friends by then. An advisor proposed the story of the expedition, and holding out hope for his return bought me enough time to earn the peoples’ faith in my own right."
Kara remembers stories Mon-El used to tell — of phenomenal parties and days spent in happy hazes. She also remembers how those enthusiastic retellings had grown uncertain as time went on. How those memories had grown less drunken and more drugged, when he realized it was all he remembered — not the names of those he drank with, their families, or the taste of the food they’d had served to them on countless silver platters.
She hasn’t seen that here. Hasn’t witnessed any of the reckless indulgence that so characterizes what she knows of Daxam. All she’s seen is evidence of the steward’s claims — of pride and dedication and purpose. He’d said their new queen had been the source of their happiness, and Kara believes him. She imagines it would have been difficult for a newcomer to navigate such a climate, and harder still to lead them out of it. But she has.
The queen has gone silent, and Kara accepts it gratefully.
“You may not remember, but… we used to share a friend. Her name was Kara Danvers.”
The name punches her like a kick to the gut. She knows her reaction remains hidden behind numbed features, but she feels it. Oh, she feels it.
“Was it—” The queen’s voice cracks. “Did she…”
Whatever she means to ask, she diverts to something simpler.
“Was she happy?”
Simpler to ask. Not to answer.
Kara hardly remembers the last time she was happy. Unbidden, a memory surges to the forefront of her mind’s eye — she and Alex on a couch, she forgets whose, and they’re full of food and wine and it’s just — it feels like the warmth of a yellow sun.
She hasn’t been that Kara for a very long time. Sister nights fell away long before the bombs did. So had Alex.
“We lost touch,” is all she can say.
Wrapped shoulders droop, relinquishing the last of her regal bearing.
Beside her, the queen deflates, head bowing with one final loss. When she looks up once more, her features glow with old, callused grief.
“I sometimes wondered if she ever got married. Had grandchildren. I hoped she was happy. And not just because I married her boyfriend.”
Kara glances at the queen’s profile. A new memory flashes behind Kara’s eyes. One on a different couch, with a Lena Luthor who’d sat stone-faced and teary-eyed. She doesn’t remember what had put grief on her face then, but being the source of it now cuts another layer from her.
She steps away, and pointedly avoids the concern that follows her retreat. “Thank you,” she says. “For the view.”
Expressive features open, lips parting even as Kara braces against the request to stay. Finally, she pauses and schools her features into something gentle but serene. A queen once more.
“Any time,” she says graciously, hugging her shawl just a little tighter.
Kara bows in the Daxam way, then departs without a word.
—-
Exhaustion clings to Kara like a ghost. Without even what scant sunlight managed to eke its way through the dense nuclear cloud to reach Earth’s surface, she feels as though the last of her strength — and herself — is fading away. She alternates between restless sleep and insomniac nights, somehow unable to reach that intangible middle ground. Soon, seeking out the queen becomes routine.
This night, Kara finds Lena once more in the gardens, but this time her lovely features are heavy, burdened by some silent worry. Kara moves to sit beside her, as has become habit.
“You seem troubled,” she observes as she folds herself onto the bench. Lena blinks at her arrival, pulled from the deepest of her thoughts, but doesn’t deny it. The soft sigh that escapes her is confirmation enough. “I’ve noticed one of your ministers doesn’t seem to… appreciate your efforts as much as others.”
She’d noticed the man’s sour countenance during several of the court sessions she’s attended in search of Lucy — and for the girl only, she tells herself. Not to hear the sounds of her first language spoken so fluidly, and certainly not to watch the woman upon the throne conduct herself with deliberate care and mindfulness.
Lena nods. “One of the last holdouts from Rhea’s reign. Some of my advisors have recommended relieving him of his position.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “However, his family holds considerable influence in the trading sector — they could easily put Daxam’s economy in a stranglehold if he demands it. Plus, I prefer to keep him close — that way he’s plotting under my nose rather than from a system away.”
Kara regards her solemnly. “That could be dangerous.”
A keen gaze slides towards Kara, regarding her in turn. “No more dangerous than any other decision I’ve made since taking the throne.” A small smile plays at the queen’s lips. “He reminds me a bit of my brother, actually.”
Oh. Right.
Kara remembers then how she and Lena had first met, in a smoking helicopter nearly shot from the sky by a hitman hired by Lena’s brother.
“Not quite as genocidal,” Lena amends, “but he certainly believes that his way is the best way. The only way.”
“You disagree.”
“Violence should never be a first choice. Daxam certainly can’t afford to lose anyone else, and I think I’ve proven by now that winning allies is more beneficial than making enemies.”
Kara leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You should hear your steward speak of you. To him it’s as though you’ve hung all the moons in the galaxy.”
Lena offers a small but true smile then. “Improving their lots was the easiest and best thing I’ve ever done. They’d been treated so cruelly; I admit the bar was low. Winning the nobles over was the real challenge, but now that new luxuries are coming in, I think most of them have come around.”
“But not all.”
“No.” Lena shifts, readjusting the shawl around her shoulders. “And the trouble now is that he’s been quiet. Too quiet.”
“You believe him to be up to something.”
“Almost certainly,” comes the swift response. “But what that might be remains frustratingly nebulous. My people are investigating as best they can without arousing suspicion, but thus far are at as much a loss as I am.”
Kara watches Lena’s profile, noting the consternation wrinkling her brow and the masked fear hidden behind it. In this moment, she is reminded of the too few days they’d spent in National City, and the perpetual tension that had limned Lena’s frame, constantly on edge expecting the next attack from her brother or his detractors. With enemies seemingly on all sides, Kara had suspected even then that their shared company was the only time Lena had managed to relax, however minutely.
“But enough of intrigue and plots,” Lena cuts into Kara’s reminiscence. The queen forces a smile. “Tell me — how did you your Lucy come to be yours?”
Kara softens, but even a fond smile remains elusive. “Caught her trying to steal food from my pack while I slept. She fled that night, but came back the next when I stuck around without trying to chase her down. I left her a ration bar that second night, and the night after. Eventually, she never left.”
Lena’s features crease into a true smile this time. “Well, that’s certainly on brand for the Supergirl I remember.” She regards Kara with a deep gaze, studying her. “Hope, help, and compassion for all, wasn’t it?”
Kara exhales. She shed that mantle a long time ago, despite the symbol still emblazoned on her chest. “Once upon a time.”
“I’m sorry for the hardships you’ve suffered.” Lena’s tone deepens. A lifetime ago, Kara suspects Lena might have reached across to take her hand. She doesn’t, but her voice is no less genuine. “It seems too little, but I mean what I said to you upon your arrival. You both will always have a home with Daxam.”
When Kara doesn’t respond, Lena mistakes it for reticence, and quickly pushes on.
“After what happened the last time you dealt with Daxam, I know better than anybody that you might not want anything to do with us. But for what it’s worth, I—”
The queen falters then, suddenly quiet.
Kara waits, until Lena continues.
“I hope you stay.”
—-
She’s trapped.
She’s twelve years old and she’s trapped in a pod floating in a sea of nothing. Kara stares out the viewscreen and the Phantom Zone stares back.
The control panel flashes with warning alerts of system failures — navigation, autopilot, life support. Everything. She’s adrift, left to die without a planet, without another living soul to know she’s gone. She’s alone.
She is the last.
She’s screaming, pounding against the glass, reaching, scraping for a release that doesn’t exist. Desperate for a quick death instead of the slow one that awaits her here.
With a final pounding of her fist, the pod rocks violently. The glass cracks and her dwindling air hisses through the small fissures. Kara pounds again, and this time it sounds like weapons fire. The warnings deepen, elongate into the long blaring of a klaxon. Another blast rocks the pod, spilling Kara from her bed.
Bed?
Kara bolts upright to the sight of a bed devoid of Lucy and the room in disarray. The door opens to admit the steward, his eyes wild with panic.
“Come, we must—!”
His shout dies with a gurgle, his throat opened by a knife from behind. Kara’s on her feet and moving by the time the steward hits the floor. The intruder doesn’t have time to even see her coming before his skull caves under her fist. She grabs his bloodied knife and hurls him deeper into the room. His corpse smacks off the far bulkhead with a crunching thud.
She pauses to kneel at the steward’s side, her mind racing as she takes his grasping hand. She meets his gaze, and he nods in full comprehension. Though fear widens his gaze, his hand tightens in a steady grip. Kara’s mind races. The corpse behind her wore the garb of the royal guards. Whether it was a disguise or a true defector, Kara can’t be sure, but it means no one is to be trusted. And if Lucy isn’t here, then there’s only one place she could be — at the very center of the danger.
“Where is the queen?”
The steward wheezes, lips moving soundlessly until Kara seals the gash in his throat with her palm.
“Quarters,” he chokes out, speckling Kara’s cheek with blood. She doesn’t flinch, but grips his hand tighter. “Fortified…”
He runs out of breath, and his chest spasms as blood fills his lungs on his next inhalation. It halos around his head, spreading to stain Kara's knees and creep into the corridor beyond the threshold. The steward grips her bicep in instinctive desperation, clawing against skin that doesn’t scratch. It won’t be long now.
There’s nothing Kara can do but show him the mercy of a swifter death. She lifts her hand from his throat, letting the blood resume its pulse from the gaping wound.
“May Rao guide you on your journey,” she utters quietly, as the flame of his life extinguishes.
Then, she hefts the knife in her hand and rises to her feet. She steps into the corridor with one thought only.
Lucy.
With a deep breath, she casts her hearing as far as it’ll go, calling to her the sounds of battle and death and dying. On the exhale, she pushes them away, and focuses on the sound of voices shouting at the far end of the ship.
“Protect the queen!”
“Barricade the doors!”
Kara casts a glance at the guard lying dead against her wall. No amount of barricades would protect from the enemy within.
“Death to the imposter!”
“For the glory of true Daxam!”
Muscles coil and bunch, thrusting Kara down the corridor. Bodies fly past her, none able to intercept her until she slams helpless against the door of the queen’s chambers. Fire arcs through her veins in an agony she hasn’t felt in decades. Kryptonite glows green around her, wielded by imposters in household garb.
“You think we didn’t prepare for you, Kryptonian?” one taunts, jabbing her with a spear as she writhes.
Beyond the doors, Kara can hear weapon fire, and the clang of clashing blades. The cries for the queen’s defense have ceased, and the grunts of exertion from within now ring in a familiar voice. The queen is fighting for her own life — and Lucy’s, whose heartbeat hammers in terror.
“Queen killer!” Another voice growls, jabbing her sharply. Electrical shock travels along her nervous system, making her scream. “Bind her! She will stand trial for the death of True Queen Rhea!”
“No!” another shouts. “We kill her here. Her and her human whelp.”
Through her agony, Kara hears the whine of a blaster charging to full power. She might survive one blast, even with Kryptonite weakening her. But not two. Six weapons point at her.
“May Rao’s will be done!”
Kara closes her eyes, waiting for the end to finally claim her. In the infinite between seconds, she sees the face of her sister, hair cropped short and eyes aglow with happiness. She sees her friends, in their multitude, their smiles flashing before her eyes. She sees her aunt and mother, arms outstretched in the halo of Rao’s light. Waiting for her. Welcoming her home.
Lucy screams from the room beyond.
Kara grits her teeth. I’m sorry , she says to the specters waiting for her. Not yet. She might not have a choice.
Just as her hands fist against the deck in a final attempt to haul herself upright, a roar fills the wide corridor. Nobles and craftsmen and staff pour in from either direction, armed with rifles, staves, brooms and wrenches, fierce and determined fury warping their features.
“Protect the hero of Earth!”
“For Queen Ley-na!”
The rifles pointed at her swivel towards the new threat. She swallows the pain and reaches for one, only for it to be claimed first by a woman in the uniform of the royal household. The guard falls a moment later, a crater singed into his chest, smoking faintly. Hands and feet kick the kryptonite away from Kara, and in moments the agony relents.
“Supergirl!” voices ring in her ears. “Supergirl, the access panels have been deactivated!” “We can’t reach the queen!”
Kara pushes herself upright. “Move…” she groans. “MOVE!”
The bulkhead peels apart under her fingers, and Kara forces her way inside to see the chancellor tackling Lena to the floor, plunging a long knife into her side as they fall. They land with a gasping cough from Lena, who fumbles to free her arms to defend herself as the chancellor wrenches the dirk from her side and lifts it over his head to deliver the killing blow.
With all the fading energy left in her drained body, Kara lunges towards them, powered by nothing but pure adrenaline, heart pounding with the desperate need to save Lena. Too slow.
As if in slow motion, the blade starts to come down, and Kara knows she’s too late. “Lee-nah!”
Lucy’s voice splits the air, and suddenly a second knife — clutched in a hand too small — buries deep in the chancellor’s neck. It halts him, shock stilling his movements until his arms fall limp at his sides. Lucy’s hand slips from the dirk’s hilt, and in an instant Lena’s hand takes its place, wrenching the blade towards her, severing trachea and arteries and sinew. A spray of blood cascades from the gaping wound, the chancellor’s head tilting back at a macabre angle. He slumps to one side just as Kara tackles him from atop Lena. She scrambles to her knees as soon as the chancellor is on the floor, clearly dead. She kneels in the pool of blood spreading beneath Lena.
Lucy appears beside her, but Kara doesn’t have time to comfort her, not when Lena’s lifeblood continues to spill from her side.
“Your Majesty!”
Kara drops to her knees beside Lena, her white gown reddening with blood. One hand gloved in blood presses tightly against the mortal wound, her breath sharp and staggering in her chest. Kara adds her hands to the pressure, pulling a cry from her majesty’s throat. Her eyes track to Kara, clouded with pain and regret.
“S-Supergirl,” she gasps. “I-I’m so sorry…”
“It’s all right,” Kara assures her. “You’re going to be all right.”
“I failed to— to keep you safe.” She presses her eyes shut, gritting her teeth against the pain. “I-I knew he dissented but I… I never thought…”
“This wasn’t your fault, Your Majesty.”
The queen inhales sharply. “Ten— ten years ago, all I wanted… was to do good. Ten years — and I haven’t changed anything.”
Kara lifts one hand from the queen’s wound and grips the queen’s free hand with a firm squeeze. “You’re wrong, Your Majesty. You have made a difference in so many lives.”
“No…”
“Your people took up arms,” Kara returns, unyielding. “They took up arms in defense of their queen. Look…”
Prying her eyes open, the queen turns her head. Her breath catches at the sight of the army at Kara’s back, and her eyes shimmer with tears. One by one, they all kneel before her, shocked into silence in the face of the death of their queen.
Lena grimaces, but it shifts to a true, soft smile. “Thank you. All of you.”
“You are our queen,” says one. “Our first true queen. We will defend you to our last breath.”
A soft huff puffs out of her, shaking her like a leaf. “Or mine.” Her eyes slip shut. “Lucy… Is she…”
“She’s safe,” Kara promises. “She’s here.”
“We’ve received word that the medical wing has been damaged. It will require repair before it can be accessed.”
“She won’t last that long.”
“We have allies who could help, but they are weeks away.”
Kara wracks her brain, searching for a loophole. In another moment, she has it. “Stasis,” she says. “Are your chambers intact?”
“Yes, as far we know.”
---
Kara gently lays the queen inside the stasis chamber. “You’re going to be all right, your Majesty. We’re going to get you help. You just need to hold on.”
“Maltus,” Lena breathes. Kara nods in understanding.The queen’s fingers wrap around hers. “Please, Supergirl— take— take care of them.”
Taking Lena’s hand in both of hers, Kara meets Lena’s gaze unflinchingly. “I promise, Lena.”
Kara reaches for the control panel, but pauses when Lena’s grip tightens. “Wait…” Their eyes meet. “My name.” She says tearfully, a tiny smile curls her lips. “When you say it… it sounds like home.”
How long it must have been, since she last heard her name as it’s meant to be said.
Kara offers a small smile. “Rest now, Lena,” she urges softly, “and dream of Earth. When you wake, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
Lena nods, and Kara slips her hands free. She activates the panel and watches the queen fall into an unnatural stillness. After a long moment, Kara gazes at her, before turning to face the crew.
“Plot a course for Maltus. Full speed.”
Once upon a time, Kara Zor-El had killed a queen of Daxam. Now, she’s going to save one.
---
The Maltusians gladly honor their alliance with Daxam. Within hours of arriving, Lena is rushed directly from her weeks-long stasis and into the care of their healers. Kara sits with her as she soaks in a pool of healing waters, and within minutes the gashes in the queen’s skin heal over, and it’s only hours more until the healers deem it safe to remove her from the baths and install her in a comfortable bed to rest and recuperate.
When Lena’s eyes finally open for the first time in a month, Lucy is there, ensconced in Kara’s lap to keep watch with wide eyes.
“Supergirl…” Lena’s arms move as though to push herself upright, but runs out of steam halfway there. It’s a struggle simply to keep her eyes open.
“The healers say it will take some time before you regain your strength,” Kara tells her. “But you will.”
“You got them here…”
“Everyone who survived the coup made it here. The rest of the fleet has joined us as well, all of whom have condemned the treason. They’ve affirmed their loyalty to Queen Ley-nah.”
Lena blinks slowly. “I imagine he waited as long as he did for that very reason.”
“You have a visitor,” Kara tells her, ever conscious of the girl on her lap. “She couldn’t wait another moment to see you.”
Lena pries her eyes open to meet Lucy’s gaze. “My little hero…” she breathes, smiling. One arm lifts from the bedspread. “Do I get a hug?”
Lucy breaks into a wide grin and bounces off Kara’s lap. “Lee-na!” she cries, clambering onto the bed to throw herself into the queen’s arms. “You’ve been asleep forever and ever! I’ve missed you!”
“And I you,” Lena returns, holding Lucy close. If she’s surprised to hear Lucy’s voice, which had previously been so absent, she doesn’t show it. “Have you taken good care of Supergirl while I was asleep?”
Lucy nods, and swiftly launches into all of the minutia a five year old could hold about life on the ship since the attack. In mere minutes, Lena’s eyes drift shut, but not before meeting Kara’s gaze with an exhausted yet meaningful gaze.
Thank you, it says.
Kara holds the gaze for as long as it lasts, until Lena’s eyes slip closed. Kara feels the tension that’s gripped her body since the coup start to ease, and something warm and voiceless fills the vacuum left behind.
Watching Lucy ramble on in Lena’s sleeping arms, Kara thinks, ever minutely, that maybe, just maybe, she’s found a way home after all.
---
The days spent at Lena’s bedside give Kara time to think, and in the vacant hours, memories of her time before the end of the world come filtering back. Memories of greasy burgers and sugary donuts shared on a white couch. Flowers called plumerias that make Kara’s heart still clench, though she can scarcely remember their shape. Tears and promises of loyalty, soon to be broken at the hands of Queen Rhea of Daxam.
To have been given this chance to make amends — to right the wrongs that stole Lena away thirty years ago… Perhaps Rao hasn’t forsaken her after all.
It is this thought, she tells herself, and nothing more that keeps Kara close to Lena’s side as the queen resumes her duties. Right now, it plants her in the corner of the queen’s chambers, watching Lena as her handmaiden deftly styles her long dark hair. They speak softly in gentle tones, their eyes meeting occasionally in the mirror. For her first appearance before her people, Lena’s hair has been left half down, curled with its volume adorned with modest jewels. She looks soft, but wise. When the handmaiden departs, Kara steps into the room.
“You are without your bodyguard, Supergirl,” Lena finally greets, eyes pinching in mirth.
Kara nods lightly, confirming Lucy’s absence. “She’s busy minding the ship cook. They’re breaking out the sweets, and she’s the royal taster.”
“It’s hard to imagine how much she’s flourished in the last three months. I’m sorry to have missed it.”
“She’s missed your stories.”
Lena smiles. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when I run out.”
Taking a deep breath, Kara watches Lena’s profile against the screen of the sky without. “I have one. I haven’t thought about it in years, but recently, it’s been coming back more and more.”
“Really?” Lena gazes at her. “Which one?”
Kara inhales deeply. “The one about a girl,” she begins softly, “who was born on a planet called Krypton. When she was twelve, her planet was destroyed, and her family sent her and her infant cousin to Earth. But the girl’s pod was knocked off course, and by the time she finally landed, her cousin was grown, and no longer needed her protection. No longer able to fulfill her last promise to her parents, the little girl was adopted by a human family. They loved her dearly, and she loved them in return.”
Lena holds Kara’s gaze, soft and gentle. Kara can see the recognition in her gaze, knows she remembers the exposé run by Cat Grant. But there was one part of her story that Cat Grant — and Lena — never knew.
“And for a time, she lived as Kara Danvers.”
Kara watches carefully as the queen’s gaze arrests in shock. A flurry of emotion crosses Lena’s features, and she stares as Kara pushes away from the wall and slowly moves towards her. Green eyes search her features, looking for proof of Kara’s words, or lack thereof.
“When her sister, Alex, was trapped on a burning plane, Kara had a choice: to obey her parents and sister, and remain hidden, or to expose herself and save her sister. She chose her sister.”
She comes to a stop, nearer to Lena than she’d ever been before. Last time, Kara hadn’t been able to feel the queen’s proximity. Now, her senses fill with her. She gazes into Lena’s searching, hopeful, heartbroken eyes, and feels her own heart beat.
“That night, I became Super—”
“Kara,” Lena breathes, surging into Kara’s arms. Kara wraps her arms around her friend, closing her eyes. Lena trembles against her, gripping her desperately tight. “Oh my god, Kara. Oh my god…!”
The queen trembles in her arms, and Kara holds her tighter.
“I’m so sorry, Lena,” she whispers into the cascade of dark hair nesting her nose. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you.”
Lena pulls back just enough to plant her palms against Kara’s cheeks, holding her in place as her eyes search for hints of unreality. Then her fingers drift through her short hair, then trail down to stroke her corded neck. It’s the first time Lena’s touched her, and now she can’t seem to keep her hands off her. As though Kara might slip away the moment she’s released.
Tears gather in her eyes, threatening to disturb the carefully applied cosmetics. “It’s you,” the queen breathes, voice ragged. “I— I never thought…”
She breaks into a wide smile, blinding Kara even as her tears spill over.
“I can’t believe it!”
Lena pulls away to stare at Kara, her hands framing Kara’s face. Kara can’t help but lean into the gentle touch. She can’t remember the last time she was touched so tenderly. As though she were… precious.
“It is you…” Lena breathes, still studying her. “I see it now.”
Kara nods, earning a watery smile from her friend.
“I can’t believe it…”
“I never forgave myself—” But Lena silences her with a shake of her head.
It’s as though none of it matters at all, and Kara supposes it doesn’t. The world in which it once happened no longer existed, for either of them.
“I scarcely believe you remember me at all.” Lena says faintly. “We had so little time together…”
“I knew you the moment I saw you.”
Looking deep into Lena’s eyes, Kara wills her to know it as the truth that it is. That it stole her breath away to see her again — and not just from surprise — would remain her secret… for now.
“Kara…” Lena’s tears are overwhelmed by a broad, glittering smile. “My Kara.”
“I’m here,” Kara murmurs with a nod. “And I’m staying.”
Lena’s smile somehow widens further, her delight issuing forth like the force of the sun. She throws her arms around Kara once more, and this time, Kara receives her with open arms, readily returning the embrace.
After a moment, Lena withdraws, but only enough to meet Kara’s eye.
“There is one thing, though,” Lena says, ducking her chin demurely. “Something I’ve been wanting to tell Kara Danvers since the day I left Earth.”
Kara raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”
The queen sighs.
“Your boyfriend’s a dick.”
The queen’s sigh comes with a full wattage grin, lighting up the shadows with the mirth that floods her features, and then spills onto Kara. Kara snorts in surprise, then finds herself chuckling as Lena starts to giggle, then rolls into full-bellied guffaws.
For the first time in over a decade, fueled by Lena’s mirth, Kara Zor-El throws her head back, and laughs.