For the Throne - 1. Dreams and Memories

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Dreams and Memories

Posh opened his eyes and stared at the metal ceiling above his bed. Breathing deeply, he tried to shake off the dream of his dead husband. It had felt so real, more of a memory, its tendril still haunting his senses.

“Jayden,” he sighed to himself as he rubbed his eyes.

He could smell Jayden’s sandalwood soap and feel the course texture of his auburn curly hair on his finger tips. Jayden’s soft laugh echoed, as the vision of his mischievous emerald green eyes ran through his head.

It never occurred to him that Jayden would be taken from him. As a Captain in Altera’s Air Fleet, Posh assumed if either of them was in danger it would be himself. After all, Jayden was a Priest.

They’d been married for five years when Jayden had gone on a missionary trip to Outpost 20. It should have been a simple undertaking of delivering food and medical supplies, basic needs for the remote outpost on the Imperial’s side of the Dead Zone, a small bit of no man’s space between the Imperial Alliance and Va’terra. No one could have predicted that a random skirmish between the Imperials and settlers of Outpost 20 would result in a stray missile bringing down the transport carrying the missionaries and supplies.

Posh had been on leave visiting his mother, Pashta, the Duchess of Altera, when news of the tragedy reached him. His twin sister, Ashe, and he were eating breakfast in the sunroom when the butler led two men in missionary garb into the small glass room. He knew the moment he saw them that something was wrong.

They laid an Alterian flag on the table in front of him and explained what happened. He could still remember the cold numbness spreading through him. Staring at them in disbelief, all he could seem to do was shake his head no. Ashe pulled him into an embrace, holding him, but no tears fell.

“Where’s his body?” Posh asked, his voice sounding distant and robotic in his ears. He had been at the other end of this message, letting families know that their loved ones weren’t coming home.

“They, ah…there wasn’t enough left to bring back,” one of the missionaries answered. “The bomb that took out the envoy left very little of the ship, its contents or passengers.”

“He might have escaped; maybe they weren’t even on the ship?” But he knew the truth, his beautiful Jayden was gone.

Even at the funeral, tears evaded Posh.

He left Air Fleet after Jayden’s funeral, and tried to sequester himself up in the palace, hoping for peace and quiet. But as part of the royal family he couldn’t escape the obligations of his title or the constant barrage of visitors with their condolences. Realizing he was only at peace when he was in flight, Posh decided to leave the palace. Court life had barely been tolerable with Jayden at his side. Without him, the pompous aristocrats and the debacle being made over Jayden’s death was more than he could bear.

And then there was the gossip and speculation of who he should wed.

Alteran nobles were expected to be married. As the Duchess of Altera,his mother had four husbands. For political reasons, such unions were not only accepted but expected by the Council and the citizens. Marriage was viewed as a tool to promote political stability and harmony. But Posh had never conscribed to his countries view of matrimony. From the moment he met Jayden, Posh had only wanted to be with him.

Less than a month after Jayden’s funeral, Posh bought a transporter with money he’d inherited when his father had passed away. When she found out about his purchase, Pashta begged him to stay.

“Third in-line to the throne isn’t that far away,” she stated, trying to evoke his sense of responsibility.

“Pashta, I can’t. Besides I never asked for that responsibility.” He could barely look at her. Even though she had refused to allow her children to call her a maternal moniker, he knew how much she loved him and how much his leaving was hurting her.

“Neither did I!” Glaring at him, Pashta’s face was set in a resolve she normally reserved for more formal occasions. Her bright blue eyes flashed angrily and she pushed her long blond hair behind her.

“Are you ordering me to stay?” Posh could hear the coldness in his voice and part of him regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Would it stop you from leaving?” his mother asked as she closed the space between them, her expression softening.

Looking down at his feet, he shook his head no. Although he had no desire to hurt her, it would break him to stay.

“Then what’s the point?” She place a hand on his shoulder and stood in silence with him. Right before he mustered the courage to try and explain, she fled the hanger and raced out toward awaiting air carriage.

There had been no sign of her or his half-brother Victor in the days leading up to his departure. Victor was busy with the council and he knew that Pashta felt seeing him off would have been the same as giving her consent to an endeavor she didn’t approve of.

His twin sister Ashe had been the last one to see him before he left Altera.

“You better come back Po,” she said using her pet name for him. Poking him in the chest, her cobalt eyes flashed angrily at him.

Pulling her close, he hugged her tight. “Stay in touch, you know no one else will even talk to me unless they have to.”

“Stubborn asses,” she hissed and then pushed him away from her. “You’re included in that you know.”

“I know, I just can’t stay here,” he sighed running his hand over his face. “Victor told me that he had eleven families inquiring if I would be available to meet their sons. Eleven! The mourning period hasn’t passed and the vultures are already trying to pair me off.” Shaking his head, he looked at his sister, realizing he was insulting her world. “Ashe how do you do it? I know you don’t have any more patience for the games than I do?”

“I do too, Po,” She laughed. “You find the political maneuvering and games repulsive, where I find them entertaining for the exact same reasons. We can both see how completely ridiculous they are.” Leaning forward she kissed his cheek and gave him a quick squeeze. “You know comlinks go both ways right?”

“I love you Ashe,” he said giving her a small smile.

Those were the last words he’d shared with his twin. It hadn’t been the first time in the last year he’d wondered how she was doing, but it was the first time he really missed her. Fighting the urge to curl into a ball and dwell in the memories of the past. Posh rolled out of his bed, allowing the coldness of the metal floor to jolt him awake.

“We are two spans from Isis 5 and there is a voice communication from Altera,” the ship’s onboard cyborg, SAI, informed him through the ship’s intercom.

“Play communication,” he said, rubbing the sleep grit out of his eyes.

“Po! Guess what! I’m getting married. His family’s from Homeworld. I can’t wait for you. The wedding is in seven cycles on the 15 of Fifth Month. Try to make it. I love you and miss you!” Ashe’s rushed words came through the speakers. Her voice sounded high-pitched and strained, but he attributed it to the excitement of her wedding.

“SAI calculate what month it is on Altera,” he said knowing what the answer would be but wanting to hear it anyway.

“Today is the 25th day of Fifth Month, 564 After Inception.”

“What is the date stamp of the message?”

“The message was sent at 15:00 on the 13th of Twenty-Three Month, 543 after inception.” Altera had adopted the Imperial’s date time system. Month’s were calculated by dividing the year into twenty-five parts and years were calculated by how long the planet had been a colony. Altera had been colonized 564 years ago by Duke Altera Abbot, his many times Great-Grandfather on his mother’s side.

“Shit,” he hissed. Ashe would forgive him, but why had it taken so long to get the message. “Record message.”

“Ashe, I’m so sorry, I only just got the news. Congratulations!!! I know it’s late but I’m sending you a gift out today, hopefully it will get to you faster than your message got to me.”

“End message and send,” he ordered as he undressed to get into the steam shower.

The warm wet steam turned his skin pink and cleared his head. Jayden had always hated steam showers preferring standing under a stream of hot water. An image of Jayden’s wet auburn hair clinging to his neck as rivers of water trailed down his body, floated to his mind, causing Posh to shiver. Even after a year, he could trace every curve and muscle in his mind. Turning off the shower he switched on the air dryer and took several deep breaths to steady himself. Some days he barely thought of Jayden and their life together, but on dayslike today, he couldn’t escape the memories no matter how hard he tried.