“What do you mean he refuses?” Teacher barked at the referee, who was quivering under the short, stocky woman's magnanimous presence.

“I–I–I mean just that,” the man stuttered, trying not to make eye contact with Teacher’s jet-black, star-filled glare. “Mr. Seyer said that competing against a lowborn–errr.”

“Oh no, lad, yah said it once. Yah, might as well call my student an abomination again. Maybe that will make yah feel like some big man,” Teacher growled, gesturing behind her at Lysa.

To her credit, Lysa was doing her best to stay composed, even though Martinez could see a few cracks in her facade, uncomfortable twitches, and glances at some of the muttering crowd members, who were clearly enjoying the show. Most seemed upset by what seemed like an early end to the day's fights, while a few clearly agreed that the noble Burtex had no reason to keep fighting—especially with an Aviex.

Most of the passive treatment of other aliens to Aviex did not bother Lysa anymore and had not in years, but active discrimination was another story. That still crawled under her skin like vile, ravenous worms.

Why could they not be like Martinez, his friends, or the handful of people she genuinely held dear to her heart and could confide in? They cared not that she was Aviex or the past of slavery and oppression the Aviex had experienced. To them, she was just Lysa, not a monster, a vein slicer, or an abomination.

Unlike so many others, Lysa did not know why the GU looked the other way regarding the Aviex species' suffering. What made her species different? Drinking blood? Having rituals based around blood? Most of the aliens in the universe ate meat with no issue, including hers.

Yet despite that similarity, aliens had attacked her in the past, trapped her into dates that were just a chance to ridicule her, or even a few attempts at her being abducted. Granted, those events were few and far between, but the way Lysa described them to Martinez, it was clear they were some of the lowest points in her life.

Lysa had tried to get answers from her parents in her youth and from her mother since leaving home, but they never gave her an answer. Lysa was not stupid and knew her Father worked in government employment as a soldier specifically for that reason; they had to know something, yet they would not illuminate the reason to her.

Looking at the referee, he did not need to call her an abomination again; the entire team and Perla’s team had heard Seyer go on a several-minute tirade that Lysa was a lowborn monster not worth the dirt in his chiton.

The insectoid also included several long-winded compliments to Perla and her far more regal upbringing amidst the Varintol home moon of Baratin, with her being the daughter to some lower baroness bordering the tundra of the former Ursana nation and the steppes and valleys of the Jurual empire.

The man was so insistent that they were better and had no reason to even allow Lysa to compete against them—they were of noble birth, unlike her. Even though Perla insisted it meant nothing once you were off that moon, she was just a regular person and held no lineage.

But Seyer wanted to hear none of it. At least the insectoid's attitude answered whether he was a noble or a warrior. Fuck, it took Martinez until this point to realize the man's coaches were more attendants and servants. Standing behind or abreast of the alien and doing nothing to interject as he made an ass of himself and whatever house he came from.

As far as Martinez could tell, the rest of his team and Perla’s team could not give a singular fuck about royalty or politics. Other than Perla, they all grew up in the wider GU or Earth, and those boasted far more egalitarian cultures. It is not something based on castes and set classes.

Because of the way the GU governs and allows species, planets, and systems a fair amount of autonomy to regulate themselves, royals and the concepts of regality were in no way dead. They all knew it, but running into anyone who still committed to those values with such fervor was few and far between.

Hell Martinez had fought against the Faruqua, who had a tribal society with religious leaders that were essentially royalty, caste system, and all. But meeting someone with the belief they were chosen by God to lead was new to him.

“Well—he–consi–considers her a–a–a—an abomination,” the referee sputtered out as Teacher approached him with balled fists.

Martinez almost felt bad for the alien. He was scrawny, looked somewhat avian, likely only weighed half of what Teacher did, and was not much of a fighter. If he was a brawler, his cowering from the woman who looked like she was about to go off like Castle Bravo was unexpected. A wise reaction considering who Teacher was, but unexpected nonetheless.

“That slimy sonuva bitch. Where is he? I will rip his fucking carapace off,” Teacher barked, jamming a finger into the referee's chest. The man squinted in pain with each tap.

“He said he is withdrawing if Lysa will not,” the referee quickly explained in a near-pleading tone, likely just wanting this ordeal to be over with. “Will you?”

“Fat fucking chance. If that bastard thinks he is better than her, I will fight him and make sure he—” Teacher started without missing a beat but was cut off when Lysa gently touched her shoulder.

“I shall withdraw,” Lysa said flatly.

“What, why would you?” Perla asked before Teacher or the rest of Lysa’s team could comment. “Fuck that asshole, make him withdraw. You should get the medal you deserve.”

“I simply hope for this to end cordially. Should I withdraw, this uncomfortable affair will simply die,” Lysa commented, squeezing Teacher's shoulder slightly tighter. “And I do not wish for Teacher to make an ass out of herself, nor reflect negatively on her Dojo.”

Teacher whipped around and looked up at Lysa, “Lass, what in all the stars are you on about? You would thrash that noble prick; if you withdraw, all your work was for nothing.”

Lysa sighed and glanced around the room, noting that most of the crowd's eyes were still on all of them. Eager to see how this issue would resolve. Teacher followed Lysa’s gaze and saw them watching, but that was not a deterrent for the Roid-rage goblin.

“I am aware. For my sake, please just drop it,” Lysa sighed.

The Goblin esc woman grumbled and was about to comment but bit her tongue. That was something Martinez had never seen from the hot-headed instructor. Lysa quietly pleaded for this to end, and her agreement showed just how much Teacher cared about Lysa.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Martinez was all for her withdrawal, even if he wanted Lysa to rip the arms off Seyer; He would back up Lysa’s choice no matter what. They supported one another throughout their issues, and this would be no different. Even if Martinez had to subtly wave to Feinel, Lira, and Ivron to stop quietly commenting. This was Lysa’s choice, not theirs.

“Are you certain?” Teacher pleaded, not wanting Lysa to just surrender, having never known giving up to get you anything good.

“I am,” Lysa said, looking toward the referee and slightly inclining her head. “I hereby officially withdraw. I am sorry to have caused these issues with my presence.”

The referee nodded and used the moment to retreat from Teacher, heading toward the back room where Seyer and his attendants were likely waiting.

As Lysa turned and started toward the team, Perla rushed over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, I am sorry that this happened—-if I wasn’t some noble, I doubt—-”

“This is in no way your fault. Worry not about it, “Lysa assured flatly, “ If you still wish some other day, reach out, and we can go get a drink.”

“Ok,” Perla nodded, still uncomfortable with this outcome.

“Have a lovely evening, Perla. Enjoy your gold medal,” Lysa said, turning about and heading toward Martinez.

Perla slumped her shoulders and languidly moved toward her team, her ear folded and looking around at the crowd as they began to leave, most clearly having lost interest since the conflict was over.

“Lysa, why did you do that?” Lira questioned once she was next to the rest of them.

Lysa sighed and looked at Martinez, Lira, Feniel, and even Ivorn's near-anguished faces. Their concern for her was evident. None of them moved to look at the dispersing crowd or even acknowledged any onlookers; all of their attention was on her.

“May we please discuss this at a later date?” Lysa questioned. “I wish to return home for the evening; I feel unwell.”

The rest shared a quick glance, knowing they had all planned on going out for dinner on Teachers dime after the competition for the day. But none of them wanted to press the issue.

“Yeah, here. Let me take you home,” Martinez said, offering Lysa a hand.

The moment she took it, Martinez’s concern for her grew. Her palms were sweaty and cold. And once she was at his side, she trembled slightly. She was either incredibly pissed or was breaking to the point of nearly crying, neither of which was good for her.

“Please, I wish to,” Lysa said. “I will see the rest of you at practice tomorrow. Save for yourself, Ivorn; I hope you also have a lovely evening.”

—-

After Lysa retrieved her gear from the locker rooms, they left the sports facility and flowed out into the evening streets of Draun; her general attitude only got worse. She refused to talk beyond requesting Martinez wait until they were back at her house, not wanting to air out her feelings in public.

Martinez would not press her on the matter, especially because she clung to him harder than usual. It was not like she was trying to cuddle up to him for warmth or comfort. No, it was like she was anchoring herself to reality by clinging to him.

Once inside her home, Lysa damn near broke down. They did not even have a chance to close the door fully or set down her gym bag. She turned into Martinez and wrapped his torso tightly in a hug, clutching his jacket and shirt in tight handfuls.

Before Martinez even could ask her what was wrong, she buried her head into his shoulder and started to sob.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, Ruh'ah; tell me what’s on your mind,” Martinez said, hugging her back.

“Wh—why do they ha–hate us?” Lysa bawled. “I–I–try yo be po—polite—but the–the—they de–despi—-hate me.”

Martinez gently rubbed Lysa’s back and pulled her as close as possible, not wanting her to feel alone. He knew she had been on her own for so long, and if it was in his power, she would never be on her own again.

“I don’t know—-I’m sorry,” Martinez replied solemnly, hating that he had no answer.

That was likely the last thing Lysa wanted to hear from Martinez; it only increased her wailing volume. But that was the only answer Martinez had. His lack of an answer felt like a knife in his chest.

The Aviex weren’t by any stretch of the imagination a beloved species in the GU, and Martinez had not been able to uncover any reason through his work at the hospital or the extensive medical documentation he had read over.

Most people he associated with seemed to not care that Lysa was an Aviex; they just treated his Ruh'ah like the wonderful woman she was. Because of that, he had never done anything to dig into why the wider GU was that way.

Lysa always seemed so confident and, for the most part, unbothered by the fact that others tried to avoid her, and he had assumed that she just brushed the issues off as reality. But it was clearly weighing on her more than he had thought.

“Come on, let's sit down. Talk to me about what's going on,” Martinez said, running his fingers through her hair. “If you want to.”

Lysa meekly nodded before Martinez led her to the nearby sofa. Once settled, he gave Lysa all the time she needed to settle down enough to explain and lay out her thoughts, worries, woes, apprehensions, and views on the recent events. Well, not just recent events, things from across her whole life; some Martinez was aware of, others he was not.

One of her main worries was their upcoming trip to meet with her parents, specifically her father. Lysa was horrified by how her father would react when he learned Martinez was not an Aviex. She told Martinez he would hurt her, him, or just flat out be horrible to Martinez every step of the way.

Kryoll, Lysa’s father, was the opposite of the racist coin that was surrounding her species. Unlike Lysa or her mother, who just tried to live their lives as best they could despite the treatment of Aviex, where they avoided or ignored people. Her father detested anyone not of their species.

Lysa told Martinez about how she ran away from home years ago because he tried to isolate her from everyone out of their direct family through violence and threats, forcing her into seclusion, and she has not seen him in years because of it.

Now that Martinez would be tossed into that line of fire, she admitted that her stress was through the roof. She had been imagining different ways Kyroll would be cruel: trying to separate them, hurting him or her, or taking any number of other detestable actions.

That was all news to Martinez. He knew that she had not seen her parents in years, but knowing why revealed a lot about her, from why she was bitter when she met Teacher to why she was surprised that Martinez defended her during their first date. He had made close assumptions over the last half a year, but this news brought everything he knew about Lysa into an entirely new perspective.

None of that mattered to him. He still loved Lysa. She was the only person he had ever known who could look beyond his violent past and coerce him into opening up about it without judgment.

The main issue for today was Seyer treating her like a monster; it felt like a kick in the gut. Especially after she had done so well surrounding herself with people who treated her like a perfectly average person. It was like she was right back in the horrible place she was immediately after running away.

“Have you ever asked your parents why Aviex are treated like this?” Martinez questioned.

Lysa meekly nodded, not even moving her head from his shoulder.

“Alright, did they ever tell you why?” Martinez asked, leaning against her head.

Shaking her head, Lysa clutched him tighter.

After hearing and seeing the usually confident woman he loved acting like this, Martinez would discover what was happening with the Aviex, their history, and why the GU treated them like this.

They are just regular people. Plenty of other Aliens drink blood around the GU; he knew that. But something had to make them different. And if he was going to keep being with Lysa, he had to know and understand what he should do to support her.

He would likely have to devise a plan to ask her mother about Aviex history whenever they arrive for their vacation. For now, though, comforting Lysa through tonight was all that mattered; she needed him more than he had ever seen. And he would, without question, offer her the comfort she had given him when he needed it.