Chapter Text
You sit at the altar of democracy and diplomacy, bored to the tips of your horns. Being Alternia's first non-dictator Empress is harder than it looks. It involves a lot of meetings. And you're brand new at all of this.
It hasn't even been five months since you succeeded the Condesce and you've only just finished figuring out how you want this to work and appointing staff. The list of things to do just goes on and on. You've only had time to pass two pieces of legislation: make murder illegal and classify lowbloods as equal trolls. Also, there was the awkward necessity of having to make the law actual law, as opposed to troll society's idea of law, which is more analogous to a 'general suggestion'. Or the way 'law' is used in troll court to mean 'ancient and obscure traditions that we can use to give lowbloods death sentences, like bans on whistling specific tunes near crows.' Just plain ridiculous.
You have a council of around 30 assholes who're supposed to advise you, but mostly they just yammer until you'd rather watch paint dry.
Today, you tap your trident on the floor and everyone shuts up. Power still comes with advantages, after all.
"So... we're going to war? Already?"
There is a general consensus from your council.
Maybe you should have been paying more attention.
"Boat - but why?"
"Empress, surely you are not that oblivious-"
No one can talk to you like that. You giggle in a high-pitched and not unthreatening way. "Clam up and get the SHELL out of here. I'm the queen." You love saying that.
The troll sniffs contemptuously, but absconds when you shake your trident in his general direction.
"Al-ray-t. Is this cause that one planet refused to bargain and didn't offer to willingly cede all their land n property to the Empire, ergo they're awful and we must destroy them, etcetera?"
"Vyljoena, Empress. And, well, that's one way of seeing it-"
"It's a glubbing ridiculous way of seeing it. Reform doesn't mean the same bad system just with all you telling me what to do. Half you are just here because you think it's an easy way to seize power. Nah. This is cause I am not the Condesce. I'm gonna do this betta. Less Suffering genocide for one thing."
Obnoxious purplebloods.
Isn't that most of your council?
Hold up.
"Wait. How many of you are seadwellers?"
Shit, that's at least half the room.
"How many are shades of blue and up?"
Shit, that's everybody.
You groan and lower your head into your hands. God damn it, Feferi. You may have changed the laws and made some things better, but you are still so behind. "Fuck. I fucked up."
All of your council looks scandalized and the noise level in the room increases from 'businesslike conference' to 'loudly muttered objections and name-calling'.
"Quiet, shrimp. Way I sea it, you're gonna be leaving me alone right aboat now. There will be no war of any kind, not yet anyway. I don't care how offended you are by the existence of other species. Shut up. And someone find some lowbloods to work here. On the council, not as maid service. Meeting dismissed."
Bureaucracy gives you a headache. And you may not be very good. You may be putting up a bit of a front. But never let it be said you did not even try.
The next week, you have three more assassination attempts than usual.
You also see five greenbloods, two brown and a yellow at your next meeting. They're having a hard time being heard, so you abandon seminar style discussion and throw at least half the highbloods out of the room.
You wave a hand and say "talk" but you're admittedly surprised by the quality of their ideas. And how polite they are. They can definitely stay.
You decide to reach out to more lowbloods. It'd be great if you weren't a casteist piece of seaweed.
So obviously you decide to start with the lowbloods closest to you: your staff.
Most of them don't want to talk to you and dissuade you with polite nothings.
And then there's Nepeta.
Your personal guard is a short, wiry oliveblood with a puff of short hair. She deals with the garden-variety assassinators herself and assists you with the personal ones if you're tired or busy. There haven't been any heiresses yet; they're not common. You'd have to fight those all by yourself, but she can challenge them beforehand. Ideally, they get tired out and the fight swings in your favor. She also happens to be very good at her job.
"Hey, Nepeta!"
"Your Imperial Radiance."
"My name is Feferi!"
"Sure is!"
She's near you almost constantly and yet you had to ask for her name three times in the first week of talking to her like a person.
"Sorry, uh-"
"Nepeta. Nepeta Leijon." She doesn't lose patience with you, just rolls her eyes in a laconic, almost feline way.
"I know! I remember!"
She just nods, apparently able to resist raising an eyebrow.
"Nepeta!"
“That’s right.”
You are surprised that she's just like a highblood, only a lowblood. Which makes you feel guilty. You're not that casteist! You want to help the lowbloods. You can do what's best for ALL of troll society. Just... you hadn't really known any lowbloods personally.
Once you get over the initial barrier of remembering her name and that she's a normal person, you find you actually really like her. She's funny and playful and a little sassy. Caring. Tough. Good at keeping you not dead.
She's also really pretty. Are all lowbloods pretty? The ones on your council aren't as pretty as her.
Anyway. You look forward to talking to her now. Almost like when - no, what are you thinking. How would this be anything like that stupid flushcrush from a sweep ago? You and Nepeta are just casually friendly.
You find yourself talking to her more and more.
"What do you think of Counciltroll Klaznt?"
She makes a face. "Soooo stuffy!"
"Are any of them not??" you say and the two of you laugh.
Her laugh is deep and throaty, almost like a purr. Sometimes being with her is - it's like being six and free of responsibility again.
You like watching her eliminate your assassins, ruthless and badass. She is gracefully fierce, a lioness in her element.
After a while of you awkwardly reaching out to her, she starts bringing you warm landweller drinks at night and chatting.
"You reely don't have to, Nepeta! I'm sea-rious. You don't have to like me to be my personal guard." You do mean it, but you really hope she genuinely likes you as a troll and not the Empress.
But she always sets the kimarl or skebni or tolhei or whatever in front of you and flops onto the arm of the other chair.
"I like you, Feferi!" She smirks. "Honestly, you're not so bad for a snooty highblood."
You grin back and she gives you a high-five.
You request that she stay at the palace more - for a little extra, of course (Budget? You control all the money in the galaxy). There is a nice room available in the staff wing. She accepts the proposal, probably only because she pockets five hundred extra caegars a week. But you hope she honestly likes you. You could use a friend.
You catch her saying "pawsibly" and "fur" and "beclaws" so the two of you have pun contests. It is silly and unprofessional of you, but it's also some of the most fun you've had in sweeps.
“Purrhaps efurrypawdy is fel-ine-ing so strongly about this decision beclaws they’re furstrated mew nefur gave them a choice.”
“Whale, it’s shore finny you shoal-d glub that. I manta to, boat I codn’t. There was no op-perch-tuna-ty to discus or debait.”
“Empurress Fefurry Pawxes, your pawlitics are pawsitively purrplexing and purrpawsterous, I’m afuraid ”
Both of you try very hard to keep a straight face and always fail.
You eat with her when you don't have to see diplomats or generals. She refuses to have you order double from the kitchen and brings her own food the way she’s always done. It's mostly traditional olive stuff and completely unfamiliar to you. You ask her to try some and she laughs for almost two minutes. When you actually do have some, you are shocked. You've had landweller food before, but admittedly, you haven't ever really eaten a meal that cost fewer than 250 caegars, or a meal originally for anyone under teal. Her food is both.
She watches your reaction carefully and rolls her eyes. "Some of us eat this way every day," she chides. "Not everyone can have ymbiole eggs and cholerbear tartare for every meal."
You are embarrassed. "It's good! I was just... surprised."
You're beginning to settle into the role of Empress but it's infinitely reassuring to have her with you at almost all times. She keeps you steady.
She starts calling you Feferi consistently. You notice that.
"Nepeta?"
"Feferi!"
"I appreciate you."
She grins. "I should hope so!"
You start to show up at her respiteblock whenever you're worried or lonely.
"It's just so complicated and I don't know what to do, Nepeta," you carp one night, nearly in tears. "I'm a mess!"
“You’ll be okay,” she says, seeming slightly uncomfortable.
“I- I-“ you break off, distraught. “I need to calm down.” What you really need is someone to calm you down, shoosh you into pacification, which is probably obvious to everyone except you.
Nepeta is aware of this. She sits silently for an uncharacteristically long time. "Look, Empress… I'm not your palemate," she says finally with an air of resolve.
"Feferi," you correct absently and then what she said really hits you. Horrors above and Gl’bgolyb below. Well then. That... would actually explain your feelings, wouldn’t it?
You look up from your hands and directly at her. "But... You could be."
She shakes her head quickly and smiles tensely at you.
"No, really. I mean it."
She laughs out loud almost bitterly and puts her hands to her head in fake despair. But you think she actually looks sort of upset. "Suff, Feferi, whatever shall we do with you. Sorry, but I have a moirail. We've basically been together since we were six."
Oh.
Even though your skin is on the darker end of the grey spectrum, right now your tyrian blush is embarrassingly bright and obvious. Why are you so wrong and self-centered?
"Don't execute me, your Radiance," she teases, but it comes out half-hearted and uncertain. Even resentful.
"I wouldn't do that!" you exclaim, perhaps more vitriolic than you intended to be. Now you're blushing more. "Let's- let's pretend this never happened."
"Yeah."
After a pause, she speaks up again. "If it's okay with you, I'd been meaning to take some leave for a while."
It sounds polite and formal, but she's definitely not going to accept anything resembling a 'no'. If she were a seadweller, you're pretty sure she would be bristling her fins towards you.
You had almost forgotten she's been living in staff quarters at the palace since you started being friends. Usually that only happened when something was up and you needed extra security. Two different guards who hadn't wanted to make much more contact with you other than the occasional "Your Radiance" take shifts outside your room on days.
Wait, she probably lives with her moirail at home. Oh, shit. You've kept her away from her moirail for almost the entire dim season. You're a terrible... friend.
"We've been Troll Skyping but it's not the same," she mutters almost to herself.
She's challenging you. She doesn't think you would do anything for her. She's testing you to see if you care. To take advantage of you. That's such a shitty thing. Who does she think she is?
"I mean it's not my fault." You honestly don’t know what you're saying anymore. The words just rush out of your mouth. "I didn't know. I thought you wanted to be here. I thought you wanted this job. I thought you liked it. Liked me." The more you talk, the more upset you are.
She glares at you. "This is not my life, Feferi. Empress. You are not my life. This is my job."
"I thought I was more than that to you! I thought we were at least friends! You lied to me!" You feel like you're going to vomit. This is going so wrong.
"I didn't do anything here! You. You, Feferi, you are the problem. I was just your little experiment to see if the almighty Condesce can make friends with a lowblood."
"How dare you! I am not her! I am not the Condesce! Why are you doing this? You can’t do this to me! I have been nothing but nice to you!" Both of you are shouting now.
"I'm not your pet! You kept me away from my home, my life, and my moirail. I could be triple quadrantlocked for all you know."
"But you're not, are you?"
"That's not the point!"
“Why can’t you be grateful? I didn’t have to do this for you! You’re just a guard!”
The sudden silence is very loud.
Nepeta looks like she is this close to fucking you up.
You’re angry, but you’re beginning to understand that the anger is just a cover for your selfishness. And now guilt. That was awful of you. And now she just looks silently furious. Even that’s not quite right. You realize that she looks betrayed.
"Do I get leave?" Her voice is angry: hard and flat.
"Y-yes, go!" It comes out more frantic than you want it to. Like you want to get rid of her.
The silence is briefly very awkward. Then Nepeta just says "Okay" and starts packing a bag, right then.
She doesn't have very many things.
You get up to leave so that she can go to sleep, but she is taking the bag and leaving too. What? It is the middle of the day!
"Are you... leaving? Now?"
"... Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Oh. I mean, no. I – I don’t."
Both of you hesitate at her door.
"Are you coming back?" you finally say.
"If I still have this job," she says.
You gape. Does she really think you would fire her? "Whale, you do."
"Good!" she snaps. "I need it," she mutters reluctantly.
You hear her pad away quietly throughout the rest of the sunshiny and deserted palace halls.
She puts on a sun-protection cloak and strides out into the day, even though the cloaks are unreliable at best. This is all your fault. How could you be so self-centered?
You shrink back to your Imperial Respiteblock and brush past the judgmental-looking day guard.
You collapse into your recuperacoon and stain the slime with the watery fuchsia of your messy tears.
When you wake up, everything is still the same. You are incompetent and Nepeta is gone.
Her absence is hellish and exhausting.
It’s only now that you’re realizing how dependent you are on her, how much she really matters to you. You refuse to replace her even briefly and are almost really assassinated. You have gotten out of practice.
The scar the attempt leaves is almost shaped like her sign. You find yourself tracing it a lot.
The other three attempts that week all make you cry.
It feels like you're missing a physical part of yourself.
You can't focus at all. You fire the wrong counselor by accident and offend an ambassador. You've forgotten how to run the Empire.
You know the situation is even more dire than it feels when Eridan even darkens your door via pesterchum for the first time in sweeps.
CA: fef wwhat the fuck
CA: wwhat are you doin
CA: i mean im not an upstandin model of howw to run a govverment
CA: or a relationship
CA: or anythin really
CA: except a pirate ship cod damn am i good
CA: but thats not the point
CA: i knoww i fucked things up betwween us
CA: but seriously im wworried
CA: wwhats wwrong wwith you
You have realized too late you are actually, stupidly, full on flushed red for Nepeta Leijon.