CHAPTER 20: LITHANUL

The Queen stared out the viewport, watching with a tumultuous mix of awe and trepidation as the fleet drew ever closer to the system's largest planet. She took in the breathtaking beauty of the gas giant, its swirling clouds and vibrant colors a chaotic wonder unlike anything Almora had ever known. Memories flooded back to her childhood, when she would visit the five planets orbiting the binary stars, each with its own distinct personality, a tapestry woven with the threads of life and desolation. Two planets teemed with life, lush and green, bursting with flora and fauna; one was a massive gas giant that loomed in the distance, while the last two were desolate rocky wastelands, barren and lifeless, their surfaces scarred by eons of neglect. She recalled the adrenaline rush of her youthful escapades, daring herself to delve into the depths of the small gaseous world, feeling the thrill of danger as the crushing pressure threatened to overwhelm her senses like a vice tightening around her chest. The planet before her was nothing like the one the Terrans had named after one of their Roman gods, a title that felt trivial in comparison to the majesty of the spectacle before her. The view, while spectacular, only fueled her growing anger with each passing moment. She had ordered the fleet's retreat, yet they continued to advance toward the heart of the system, as if drawn by an unseen force. "Slave!" she shouted, her voice echoing against the cold metal walls of the ship as she continued to fix her gaze on the viewport, desperation creeping into her tone.

For several agonizing minutes, silence reigned in the room, no one answering her call, the stillness amplifying her frustration. She called for him again, the name on her lips heavy with irritation, now recalling that he had not come to serve her the last meal. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time he had attended to her needs in any meaningful way, the absence of his presence a dark cloud looming over her. The last meal she had prepared for herself had come straight from her personal cooling unit, a haphazard assembly of whatever leftovers she could scavenge, a stark contrast to the lavish feasts she once enjoyed. She had taken her last few baths alone, her slave inexplicably failing to report for duty, leaving her feeling abandoned in her own palace. It was clear something was amiss behind her back, a betrayal lurking in the shadows. The isolation she felt from the crown had never been so profound; for the first time in her impossibly long life, Lithanul was scared, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her like a heavy shroud.

With a growing sense of urgency, the Queen approached the com unit mounted on the wall, her fingers trembling slightly as she attempted to summon her servant. The unit remained unresponsive, a cold silence greeting her command as if mocking her desperation. Frustrated, she tried again, this time met with an ominous red light and a harsh, unyielding tone that sent a chill down her spine. "What the hell!" she nearly shouted, her frustration boiling over as she struck the panel repeatedly, each hit reverberating through her body, echoing her desperation. She walked toward the door, only to find it equally unyielding, a barrier that refused to bend to her will. "Let me out!" she shouted, her voice rising with panic, the walls of her confinement closing in around her. Fear began to creep into her mind as the reality set in—she was no longer in control, a sensation that clawed at her insides. "Let me the fuck out!" she screamed, throwing a vase at the door with all her might, struggling to contain her fury, but it erupted in a torrent of frustration and despair.

After four long hours of shouting and hurling any object she could find, exhaustion washed over her like a tidal wave, dragging her down into a sea of despair. The front of the door was littered with broken statues, shattered vases, and other antiquities from countless cultures across the galaxy, remnants of civilizations long past, now reduced to mere debris in her wake. As she lay on the cold floor, staring up at the tall, golden ceiling, the door finally swung open with a grating sound that echoed in her ears. Soldiers from various factions of the alliance filed into the room, weapons trained on the Queen, their expressions a mix of confusion and determination. "What is the meaning of this? I am your Queen! Lower your weapons!" she demanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil within, her heart racing as she faced the unexpected confrontation.

"No, your hinessssssssssss," Mel'Nar hissed in Galactic Common, before switching to his native language, his tone dripping with contempt. "You promised food for the herd, and then you ordered us to leave just as we had them under our grasp." The Mordechai military leader advanced slowly toward his former Queen, each step heavy with the weight of their shared history, a history now tainted by betrayal. "Your rule has been a disaster. After the war, you failed to lead. Instead, you indulged in revelry and pursued fleeting pleasures while the galaxy starved, your subjects left to suffer in silence."

"Mel'Nar, I would expect this from anyone else, but you are my right hand. Why?" She was taken aback, not with anger but with a profound sense of betrayal and shock, the realization cutting deeper than any blade. Never had she imagined that someone so close to her could turn against her, a wound that felt both personal and political. "You've been by my side since you hatched." The Queen rubbed her eyes, surprised to feel tears gathering; for the first time in her long life, Lithanul was crying, the salty drops a testament to her vulnerability.

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"Now he answers to me!" a voice slithered from behind Mel'Nar, causing Lithanul's tears to dry up instantly as fury surged through her veins, her skin remaining a light blue rather than the deep crimson it would have turned in a typical rage.

"Slave!" she hissed, venom dripping from her words, the term a dagger aimed at his heart.

"No!" he shouted, his brow furrowing as anger flickered in his eyes, an emotion not often displayed by one so accustomed to servitude. "I am not a slave!" He slammed his golden staff against the floor, the resounding bang reverberating throughout the chamber, emphasizing his contempt for the term and the chains of his past. "We are no longer slaves! The men of Almora shall rise and claim their rightful place, and rule once more!"

"And how do you expect to sell this revelation to the people?" The Queen stepped closer to him, her hands clenching into fists, ready to wrap her fingers around his neck and choke the life from him if it came to that.

"It's simple, my Queen!" His grin widened as he closed the distance between them, an unsettling gleam in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine. He reached out, rubbing her ever-growing belly, which had begun to show signs of her pregnancy, a fact that now felt like both a blessing and a curse. A wave of realization washed over the Queen as he began to laugh, a sound that sent an icy chill racing through her. "Yes! That's my ticket! You see, my love, I am the first male to impregnate a female in a millennia! I am a God!" Muuktel twirled around the room, his arms flailing in triumph, the sheer absurdity of his declaration almost overwhelming. "With my astounding abilities, I alone will repopulate the Almorian people!"

Lithanul glanced down at her belly, her thoughts racing as she pondered how useful she would be after the birth of her child. "You're missing one important fact," she interrupted sharply, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "I'm still the Queen. You can't push me away without inciting a revolt!"

"Oh, my love," his smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes that would send daemons scurrying in fright, the air thick with tension. "You can be so naive." Muuktel took the Queen's hand in his, his grip firm and possessive, as if trying to bind her to him with more than just words. "Every Queen needs a King!"

Lithanul's eyes widened in horror as the reality of his proposal sank in, the implications crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her former slave was not simply suggesting a partnership; he was proposing marriage, a proposal she could not afford to refuse. Her pregnancy would signal the first natural-born Almorian the species had seen in millennia, a momentous event steeped in historical significance that could not be ignored. Questions would arise, first about how a female could carry a child to term, and second about how a male could have impregnated her. Lithanul would undoubtedly be revered as a Goddess, while the male who fathered her child would ascend to the status of a God. Refusing to marry the only male known to have shared her bed would spell disaster; a tradition long abandoned in their culture would lead to a cataclysmic shift in societal norms. It could reignite family structures and even revive ancient religious practices, forces that could reshape the very foundation of their civilization. "You will never gain control over the crown!" she spat defiantly, her words landing with a heavy weight as she aimed for his face, the act a last-ditch effort to assert her dominance.

Muuktel wiped the saliva from his face, disdain creeping into his eyes as anger boiled beneath the surface. Years—no, centuries—of suffering, abuse, and disrespect surged forth as he unleashed a torrent of rage. With a clenched fist, he drew back his arm and struck the Queen hard across the side of her face, the impact nearly breaking her cheekbones, a brutal reminder of the power he now wielded. "That is where you are wrong, slave! The Crown is mine, the Monarchy is mine! The Alliance is mine!! I have labored too long for the betterment of Almora. I have suffered, been beaten, and tortured all for the pleasure of females. No longer! The line must be drawn, right here, right now! For I am King Muuktel Shun, liberator of Almora, future Emperor of the Galaxy!"

At that moment, the Queen grasped the full weight of his grand scheme, the reality of her situation crystallizing in her mind. She glanced around the room, taking in the soldiers, workers, and aides who surrounded her, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. Various species represented the Alliance—Mordechai, Minmoran, Almorian, Vaikunthian, Pleiadeans, Nogvarian, and countless others not present in the room. His actions toward the Terrans revealed his true nature; if he could not dominate a civilization, he would eradicate it entirely, a thought that chilled her to the bone. Cradling her belly, she looked down for what felt like the first time, experiencing a profound shift in perspective. She no longer viewed the universe as a conqueror seeking revenge but as a mother longing for a better world for her child, a world where love could triumph over hatred. She chided herself for her previous actions against the Terrans and felt a deep remorse for the suffering they had endured, a burden she could no longer ignore. They didn't deserve annihilation; they had paid for their ancestors' crimes long ago. Just as her child bore no guilt for the sins of its parents, the Terrans were not responsible for the misdeeds of their forebears. In that moment of clarity, she resolved to ensure that her child would know a world defined by peace and prosperity, one free from the shadows of genocidal intent. Even if it meant sacrificing her own life, she recognized there was only one way to keep her child safe: she had to trust the Terran Captain who had outwitted her, a decision that felt both irrational and instinctual, yet utterly necessary. As the armada crept closer to Earth, she knew she had to escape; she must land on that planet, her heart pounding with the weight of the future she hoped to create.