mithen | The House of the Earth Part 3 (8/8): Watching the Moon

Title: Chapter Eight: Watching the Moon
Pairing/Characters: Kal/Bruce, Alura, Zor-El, Kara Zor-El, Selina, Diana
Notes: "The House of the Earth" is an AU in which a few thousand Kryptonians escaped the destruction of Krypton to flee to Earth and conquer its people.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Kal has problems adjusting to life in Gotham--and meets his betrothed.

"It's good to have you back, nephew," said Zor-El. He moved one of the triangular pieces of glass on the playing board, sat back and waited for Kal's move.

Kal stared at the board, but he wasn't particularly seeing it. The morning sun slanted across the board, making the translucent pieces glow. He and Zor had often played this game when Kal was a small child, before he had challenged his uncle's authority, before he had been sent away. Many afternoons they would sit and play on the porch, Kal fidgeting in his seat, trying to concentrate.

He had always lost.

Kal moved one of the pieces nearly at random and Zor-El frowned.

"You haven't told us anything about your trip," said Alura from her chair overlooking the garden. She was working on one of her holosculptures, spinning threads of light between her fingers, gazing out over the garden.

"There isn't much to tell, aunt. We--I--had a good trip. The spa was...very relaxing." Next to his aunt's head, morning glories twined around a house column. The brilliant blue flowers nodded slightly in the breeze. He felt the sudden urge to pick one, to take the cerulean flower and put it behind Bruce's ear, just to watch Bruce's eyes roll in annoyance and hear him scoff. The blue was as intense as Bruce's eyes, as deep as the sky. But Bruce was seated at a cushion at his feet, and if Kal did anything so rash as tuck a flower behind his ear, he would merely cast his eyes down demurely. No insults, no gibes, just sweetness and docility.

The healing bruises on Bruce's face were darker than the blue of the flowers.

Kal's hands itched suddenly to crush the flowers, to shatter the columns, to scatter the pieces of the game across the porch. Anything to break the cloying silence and give him back the astringency of Bruce's mocking voice.

Instead he watched his uncle move another piece, then reached out to push one of his hexagons to meet Zor's advance.

Zor cocked his head and looked at Kal in silence for a while. "You're still sulking about the marriage, aren't you?"

"The what?"

Zor's smile was thin. "Let's not play games, Kal." He moved another piece. "You still haven't forgiven us for arranging a betrothal without checking with you."

Kal bit his lip, trying to keep his mind on the game, but the pieces were meaningless bits of color. Game pieces shoved about the board. "You still don't even know her name, do you?"

An eloquent shrug. "Does it matter?"

Alura sighed from her seat. "Syra will be so disappointed."

Zor snorted. "Syra will survive. She's a good Kryptonian and will understand that establishing diplomatic ties with the Amazons is more important than her personal future."

Kal somehow doubted that.

"Oh," said Zor as if a thought had just occurred to him, "Your new fiancee will be dining with us tomorrow night. She wishes to meet you and to see the place she will soon call home. You will, of course, show her around."

"Of course," said Kal. "Maybe I'll even learn her name."

On the floor beside him, Bruce shifted on his cushion, bringing his head to rest on Kal's thigh. Languid fingers trailed up and down Kal's calf, and Kal's hand was slightly unsteady when he reached out to move another piece. As he waited for his uncle's move, he let his hand rest on Bruce's head, letting dark hair slip between his fingers, caressing. He felt more than heard Bruce's small sigh at the touch, a tiny exhalation; the fingers tightened on his thigh briefly.

Kal remembered firelight reflected in that dark hair, the way the wind lifted it as he looked at Kal, his gaze direct and fearless. Laughter in his voice. Untouchable.

He shifted one of his stones across the board and Zor-El looked at it for a long time. He sat back in his chair slowly. "You win," he said.

Only when he looked at the board did Kal realize it was true.

: : :

Bruce and Kal were in the kitchen with Alfred when Kara came home from Metropolis. Bruce was engrossed in conversation, so Kal left him and went to Kara's room.

Kara was seated at her desk, working on something. She put her pen down as Kal approached, smiling. "Cousin," she said. "How was your trip? Are you glad to be home?"

"Home?" Kal couldn't keep the scorn from his voice; he saw Kara's smile soften into something sadder, more wistful.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said. "Terra."

"How much have you seen of it?"

She rolled the pen on her desk. "Quite a lot. I've been to Japan, the Sahara, the Maldives. The Arctic--oh Kal, the aurora borealis in the arctic sky, it's so beautiful. So peaceful."

Kal felt his breath catch. "I want to see it! I want to see all of it. Even the little I did see--" He remembered the gnarled forests, the rolling fields and scrublands, the mountains soaring into the sky, "--I want more. I want to know it all."

Her smile was fond but still sad. "I hope you can, Kal." She turned back to the desk. "I ran into Syra in Metropolis."

Kal's exhilaration faded abruptly. "She must be furious."

"She isn't exactly thrilled, no," Kara said wryly. "She insists you speak to her in person the next time you go there."

"Oh dear," said Kal, and Kara threw back her head and laughed.

"You look so woebegone, cousin. Come now, she's just one woman."

"You're just one woman as well, but one would do well to fear you," said Kal, and Kara bowed her head at the compliment, chuckling.

"Is it hard?" Kal heard himself say.

Kara's smile faded. "Is what hard?"

"Being away from Zhon so much."

Kara tilted her head thoughtfully, not deflecting the question. "He's a telepath, Kal." She tapped her temple. "We're never that far away from each other." She paused as if searching for words. "And even if we didn't have that link, we would never be far apart in the way that matters." This time her hand rested lightly over her heart. "Not even galaxies could keep us apart in that way."

"How did you...how..." Kal found himself wordless at the light in her eyes.

"He came to me," Kara whispered, as if she'd never spoken of it to anyone. "He heard my despair, my confusion, and rage and hope, and he came to me. He told me that I wasn't alone." Her smile was terribly sweet. "He didn't know it then, but I knew it right away, that I'd never be alone again with him in my life." She touched her hand to her heart again, gently. "Not even galaxies," she murmured.

"I see," said Kal.

"Yes," said Kara, "I think you do."

: : :

Kal lay in a patch of moonlight, staring at the ceiling. Eventually, silently, he lifted himself from the bed. Bruce was asleep on the floor at the foot of the bed, curled up in a pile of blankets. Kal watched his breath rise and fall for a while, then made his way quietly out of his quarters and into the garden.

The kitchen gardens were still and silent, most of the garden beds bare in autumn. Kal sat down with his back to the stone wall, listening to the wind rustle the ivy. The leaves were red now, brushing his shoulders and hair. The plot next to Kal was bare; Kal let his left hand sift through the soil, feeling the dirt and small rocks trickle between his fingers. His right hand was closed around cool metal and glass.

A whispering rustle, a thump; Selina landed on the grass next to him. Kal blinked. "I wouldn't let anyone catch you doing that, little prince," said Selina. "Getting your hands dirty like a common slave."

Kal patted the grass next to him and Selina cocked her head inquisitively. "I was watching the moon," said Kal. "I wouldn't mind some company."

Selina's lip curled, but she dropped to the grass next to him, keeping the green-tipped whip handy. "Did you get tired of playing human?" she asked.

"Not really."

"I hope you didn't get too attached to it all," said Selina. When Kal didn't respond, she continued, "You don't really think you'll be allowed to stay after we win, do you?" She shook her head, making the ivy rustle. "Even if you survive, there'll be no place on Earth for a Kryptonian. You must know this." Kal continued to look at the moon. "Don't you care?"

"Of course I do," said Kal. The dirt was cool under his hand; he crumbled a small clot of earth between his fingers. "Of course I do."

He had the impression she was looking at him, but he kept his eyes on the moon, hanging silver in the sky. After a while, she sighed. "Do you remember the day I was collared?" she asked with the air of someone changing the topic.

"Yes."

"It was my seventh birthday. I came to you crying because it threw my balance off, I couldn't do cartwheels any more. Do you remember what you said to me?"

Kal nodded. He remembered.

"You told me that I would always be free, in my heart." Selina's voice was whittled with pain. "In my heart. You were so kind, so well-meaning." She shook her head again. "I looked at you and for the first time really realized what it meant that I was a slave and you were not." She took a long, careful, shaking breath, then another. Kal said nothing. "What," she said sharply, "No helpful platitudes today? No words of hope and encouragement to give me?"

"No," said Kal. He turned and met her eyes, glinting green in the silver light. "I'm sorry."

Her jaw tightened, and she reached out, placed cool fingers along the side of his face. "Damn you," she whispered.

Then she stood, scooping her whip up, the swagger back in her posture. "You look good with your hands in the dirt," she said. She leapt to the top of the stone wall soundlessly. "Almost human."

She was gone.

Kal sat and looked at the moon.

"Master?" He heard Bruce's soft whisper outside the kitchen garden, and then Bruce appeared in the archway, his figure limned by moonlight. "Master, can't you sleep?"

Kal just looked at him and couldn't answer.

Bruce drew nearer, dropping to his haunches to look in Kal's eyes. "You should be sleeping," he said. "You need to be rested for tomorrow."

"Bruce," said Kal. He couldn't seem to find any other words beyond the one that mattered. "Bruce."

"Kal," whispered Bruce, almost too low to hear.

"I'm watching the moon. Will you watch it with me?"

"Of course."

Bruce settled onto the grass next to him, his back against the wall. They looked up at the sky together for a time.

"It's so beautiful," Kal said. "I could fly there, but it would just be dead rock if I did. It's only beautiful from far away."

He felt more than saw Bruce's attention shift. "What are you holding?" Bruce touched his right hand, and he curled his fingers around the cool glass and metal protectively.

"Nothing."

"Don't say that." Bruce pried the glasses free and looked at them for a long time, opening and closing them, the temples making small clicking noises. "You kept them."

"I miss him."

"I know."

"I miss...his friends."

"I know."

Bruce leaned forward, close and then closer, and slipped the glasses onto Kal's face. "He's here," Bruce said. "We're both here."

Kal looked back at the moon. Through the slight slimmering distortion of the glass it was even more lovely. He put his empty hand back down on the earth.

After a moment, warm fingers rested on it, light but sure.

They sat together and watched the moon slide down the sky. Kal felt the grass under his hand, the warmth of Bruce's touch over it. He seemed to feel the earth beneath him, spinning them inexorably into the future, hurtling them through space, toward freedom or failure.

I won't fail you, he thought, unsure if he meant Bruce or the earth itself.

I won't fail.

: : :

Kal looked toward the head of the table to where a statuesque figure sat, dark hair in waves around her veiled face. "Amazons always wear veils when we travel abroad," the princess had said in a low voice when he had asked. "Our faces are not for general viewing." Scorn dripped from her voice.

She deftly lifted a wine goblet to her lips behind the veil; even her eyes were covered, so Kal couldn't tell if she was looking at him. She seemed able to see through it, but it was opaque on this side.

Kal found it unnerving.

Bruce was elegantly arranged on the cushion, all silk and silver chains, the very image of decorative submission. Kal slipped him some food as Zor-El made small talk about with the princess about her journey. The veiled face turned slightly toward him, and Kal had an impression of attention focused on him.

"Of course, we shall see no more of...that...when we are wed," she said in a voice like ice and steel.

"Of what?"

"That thing at your feet," she said.

"Bruce?" Kal felt like the floor was dropping out from under him.

"Call it what you will, but I believe we all know what its purpose is, and it will not be seen in our household."

This wasn't how he had imagined his first conversation with his betrothed going. "But he's--I mean--he's mine," he said, trying to get back into his persona as haughty Kryptonian and mostly sounding only pleading.

The princess made a sound in her throat that was almost a growl. "It will be sold. Or you shall turn it over to me and I shall find other employment for it."

"Now see here," Kal said, feeling indignation, fear, and guilt nearly throttling him, "You don't have the right--"

"I shall make its removal from this household a prerequisite for any further negotiations with the Amazons," she said.

"Now now," said Zor-El placatingly, "We'll talk about all this soon enough." He shot Kal a warning look. "It's not that big a deal, nephew."

Kal opened his mouth but couldn't come up with anything to say. The princess's hands were clenched on the tablecloth, sinews and tendons standing out stark, her knuckles white.

The rest of the meal passed in silence.

: : :

"It might be better," Bruce said in Kal's quarters later.

Kal was jolted from his thoughts. "What might?"

Bruce looked down at his hands. "Leaving. Being sold. I can escape a new owner and go back to the Rockies. It might be better than...being here."

Kal swallowed. "If that's what you want."

A dry laugh. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Kal was saved from having to respond by a sharp rap at the door. He opened it to find the princess in her white formal gown, her face still veiled, hands fisted at her side like she yearned to be holding a weapon. "You are a rude, spoiled child," she said without preamble, "And I have no desire to wed you beyond the benefits it might bring my people." She entered the room, pushing him aside. "Oh," she said. "I intended to be kind and polite and nice, but I cannot, not when I see--" She pointed at Bruce, standing with his eyes lowered. "I will not live side by side with your pleasure slave," she spat.

"I'm sorry, but I can't--"

Kal's stammered statement seemed to goad the princess past bearing; she took a deep breath and the veil flattened against her mouth. With an irritated snarl she reached up and ripped off her veil, revealing a sternly lovely face, currently contorted with anger. "You listen to me, you--you--Kryptonian," pointing a furious finger at him. "I will not--"

Bruce's voice was full of shock: "--Diana?"

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