For the Throne - 6. Listening

Posh wiggled closer to the warm body holding him. As he opened his eyes, he glimpsed auburn curls and a small sound of relief escaped him. It was all a bad dream, Jayden was…dead.

Jerking away from the tall Va’terran who was holding him, he scowled down at him. None of the anger welling up was Adar’s fault, but Posh couldn’t help it. He felt betrayed by Jayden for not telling him he was Va’terran, and a Prince, for not telling him about his mirror brother and for not confiding to Posh why he was on Altera. He felt betrayed by Pashta and Victor because there is no way they didn’t know. Royal marriages required treaties, both of them had to have been involved in signing the agreements.

He debated on turning around and dropping the Va’terrans back on Isis 5. It would be easier than dealing with the emotions that were welling up inside of him. But the thought of leaving Adar behind sent another lump of pain through him. The tall auburn man leaning against his bed was his only link to Jayden and the truth behind his death.

Shutting his eyes, Posh remembered a lesson a Tanger teacher had given him when he had been caught eavesdropping on Victor. Rather than punishing him, he had taken him fishing. Sitting there in the sun with an archaic fishing pole in the water, he told Posh to listen. At the end of a span, he had asked what he had heard.

“Nothing,” he’d replied.

“Really?” the old man asked, “You didn’t heard the bird’s chirping or the gillafrog jumping into the water? You don’t hear the sound bees looking for pollen or the crickets chirping in the field?”

“Those things aren’t important,” he’d declared, confident that the old man was just trying to keep him from listening in on his brother.

“The crickets and birds eat insects that spread disease on this planet, without their effort hundreds would get sick and die. The bees make the honey that you eat every day. Are those things not important?” The man’s navy dredlocks had lain flat on his back, something about them had made Posh realize that he was disappointed in his answer.

“I don’t want anyone to get sick and I do like honey, but so what?” He was confused about what the teacher wanted him to say.

“The gillafrog was eaten as soon as it jumped in the water. Was his last action not important?”

“It was just a frog,” he said, looking down at the grass around them.

“Everyone and everything is important, we all have a role to play. If you are going to listen to them, they deserve your full attention, not just the attention you give them while trying to spy behind a wall.”

“It was just a frog,” he reiterated, feeling slightly ashamed but not wanting to give in to the old man.

“And the woman your brother was hearing was just a farmer. But her pain is real and your brother holds her livelihood in his hands. She deserves to be heard.”

From that point on, his instructor made it part of his lessons to go out to various places and listen. They visited forests and fields, markets and assemblies, each with equal reverence and patience. He learned that listening didn’t just happen with your ears. That body language and facial expressions could tell you more than words and at the end of it all, his respect for Victor grew exponentially. Really listening was hard and seeing truth even harder.

The Va’terram accused him of thinking the rumors about their masks were real. Posh knew better, but he also knew Va’terrans usually hid behind their masks. For them, truth was determined by what someone’s essence projected, but even essences could be falsified if a person was skilled enough.

Adar could tell him the truth. The truth of who his husband had been and if the man he had married was the man he thought he was. He wanted to believe that the only thing Jayden had kept from him was where his heritage and lineage, but Posh couldn’t be certain.

And then there were the laws concerning mirror brothers. There was no reason for Adar to know that he understood Va’terran law, but it had been part of his upbringing, learning the cultures of other groups. He had learned Imperial history as well as Va’terran, Dead Zone and all the smaller groups that were known.

Pashta had required all of her children to be educated both culturally and spiritually. Victor was the only one who practiced Xian, the religion of Altera. Ashe changed her denomination like she changed her hairstyle. But Posh had been changed by the instructor who taught him to listen.

Part of the training had required him to attend many different services, Idian had truly moved him. Driven by a need to understand what place the individual played in the universe, the Va’terran religion had pulled him in. He respected that the sun and moon were female entities that represented emotion and desire and that the self which was represented by a male figure was only a figurehead for the individual. Posh also understood that on Va’terra this was more than a religion and that the King represented the people.

In his vidcast, Jayden said he was Prince Jayden de Luna, prince of the moon. That would mean his mother was the priestess of the Lunar Temple, she ruled over the emotions of her empire. Emotions could be deadly. They sparked wars, disagreements and hatred, but also love, compassion and mercy. It would explain the sensitive, loving man he married, but not why that man had lied.

For the last year, all he felt were anger and pain, and now it was like those emotions were developing into a laser like point. Adar didn’t deserve the brunt of it, but because of his similarity to Jayden and their connection, unless Posh found another outlet for his emotion he would take it out on the auburn-haired man regardless.

Tia’Goah, was Va’terran martial combat. It had been developed by farmers who had kept the Imperial Alliance from taking over their planet. The basic moves were used to focus the consciousness to a state of prayer during Idian services. Grabbing his staff from the corner of the room, he looked back at Adar.

If his mirror brother had been born ne Lunar, Adar was Prince ne Sol, a son of the Sun Priestess. He would understand why he avoided a confrontation. The Sun was about self-preservation, survival and identity. Adar would know that he was dealing with an internal conflict, if not the extent.

This wasn’t just about his dead-husband’s betrayal that would be bad enough. This was also regarding Elrick and why he was in his mother’s room. It was about not being able to reach Ashe and her cryptic message. It was about Victor not showing up at council meetings when he had never missed one. It was hoping his mother and family was safe. And most of all about wanting to know the truth about the man he had married and praying he hadn’t put his planet at jeopardy because he hadn’t pried enough into Jayden’s past.

He was angriest at himself and there was only one way to remedy it. Go back and accept responsibility. “Listening is a great responsibility,” his instructor had said, “once you hear something you can’t unhear it.” He had heard a lot of things in the last few span. Words from his sister, Elrick, Mara, Adar, Jayden and Garrett, who was telling the truth and who was lying was yet to be seen. But all of them had a point of view and a right to speak, even if he didn’t like what they said.

He could chose to act or run. There was no right or wrong answer. Sometimes surrendering was the right answer, but if Elrick thought he was going to turn over his planet’s alliance by avoiding the Imperial Alliance or joining with him, he was sadly mistaken. The beauty of Altera was the right to choose. The Duchery had never discriminated against other beliefs and he wasn’t going to be the first ruler in Alteran history to do so. The Imperial Alliance only had one version of history, they didn’t teach about the cultures they decimated or the planets they overran. They didn’t recall how many cultures they had destroyed to get where they were.

If Jayden thought Tangler was the exception then he was the one misinformed. Posh could think of a hundred planets terraformed to Imperial Alliance standards. It was one of the first lessons Alterans learned. It was why they stood against the Imperials when joining would be easier. Homeworld was neutral, which might as well be joining, Outpost 20 was helpless, but Altera was independent. They stood for freedom and the right to be. They let everyone in. All theologies, all political beliefs, all cultures.

Leaving the room, he touched Mara’s shoulder as he passed her sitting at the table. Without a question she stood up and followed him into the hanger. Moving to a mat he’d set up to practice Tia’Goah, he pulled the staff in front of him only to find Mara blocking his moves.

“You haven’t eaten,” she stated plainly.

“I’m too angry to eat Mara, move.”

“You hired Mara. You eat first, then you play with stick.” She held a nutrient ration out for him.

“Mara!”

“Posh is mad, Mara know, Mara mad too. When family killed and Imperials come, Mara survive, because Mara ate and determined to live. Now Posh live. First eat, then fight.” She thrust the ration toward him.

Posh took it from her and bit down. The flavor of nuts and honey flooded his mouth, followed by the bitter aftertaste of the additional nutrients. Mara was right, he needed his strength and health, and she was only looking out for his best interest. It was what he hired her for. He finished the rest of the bar.

“Thank you,” he said, grabbing Mara in a quick hug and kissing her cheek.

“You are silly,” she said, pushing him away. “Mara could kill you with a knife.”

“If you were going to kill me with a knife you could have done it many times over,” Posh laughed.

“You are fat and lazy,” Mara stated, “Mara knife come when you think you safe.”

“How am I fat?” Posh asked, trying not to laugh. He knew he was anything but overweight.

“You fat because you trust, you lazy because you trust,” Mara stepped back from him. “Tanger was fat and lazy. It trusted others to be nice. Imperials come and kill. Even as leaders die, priest say trust gods. Gods lie. Even when temple destroyed, priests say no fight.” Mara looked up at the ceiling and then focused a steady gaze on Posh. “You a fighter, Mara know. Mara teach you. You listen you learn.”

Posh heard the echo of his old teacher. No one was unimportant and you couldn’t unhear.