Chapter Text
Jupiter Jones is almost seven when he descends from the heavens, trailing fire and monsters in his wake. His hair is the color of the planet for which she is named, and he wears a cloak like the night itself, dotted with golden stars. She is in love instantly and painfully, in a way she will never be in love again - in a way a little girl should never be in love.
She knows him. She remembers.
She stares and stares until the monsters grab her, holding her squirming body between scaly, clawed fingers. She screams and flails when they put the gun to her throat, and she cries for a moment when it stings. But then it glows a brilliant blue, illuminating her face; and she falls silent, awe-struck at its shining light.
“This is the Recurrence, my lord,” growls the tallest monster - broad-shouldered and wearing metals upon his jacket that clink softly in the cold night air. “Shall we kill her?”
Her prince lifts a hand, long fingered and pale, and bids the monsters to release her without speaking a single word. He is effortlessly powerful, and Jupiter is bewitched by him.
I made him that way, she thinks; but the thought is foreign to her young mind, and she flinches back from it, focusing instead upon his neck
“Why are you wearing a collar?” she asks. It catches her eye in the moonlight, beautiful gold with a burning crescent moon.
He tilts his head, his gaze sweeping over her, through her. “It is protection,” he says. His voice is a low, hoarse whisper - almost as soft as her own. “Members of my family require much protecting, Jupiter.”
She is not the least bit surprised that he knows her name already. She does not understand it then, but she feels sure he has always known it, that it is written in his very genes - as his, she believes, is in hers. “Why?” she asks, stepping closer. “Who would ever want to hurt you?”
It is this, it seems, that finally decides him. Something warm and certain flickers in his eyes, and he drops to his knees before her, slow and dignified, holding out a hand for hers. “There are many in the universe who seek to destroy what is mine,” he says. “It is dangerous to be royalty, Jupiter - as you will soon learn.”
“Royalty?” Jupiter is breathless, her heart pounding against her tiny ribs. “So you are a prince?”
He smiles, beautiful and terrible and monstrous. His eyes glitter, and Jupiter feels ice in her veins. “I am Entitled,” he says. “To this planet. To time. To you.” He lifts a hand and holds it out to her. “You will come with me, Jupiter,” he says. “You are an Abrasax now.”
She blinks, confused and uncertain of the word - a-BRA-sax. She turns it over in her head. It tastes familiar on her tongue, like an echo of an echo. No, not yet. Don’t go there yet. Jupiter blinks again and rubs her eyes with a curled fist, her head aches. Don’t touch it. Don’t look too close. It hurts too much to remember. “Does that make me a princess?” she asks instead. She has always liked princesses, has always imagined she might be one - the little girl taking hold again.
He takes her hand. His fingers are cold around hers, and his grip is tighter than she would like. “It is a gift,” he says. “Be grateful I am offering it to you at all.”
Icy dread fills her - dread that he might leave her, rescinding the gift that he is offering now. Jupiter thinks of the place she calls home here - the place that never feels like home. She thinks of the bed she shares with her mother and the posters she puts on the wall, the posters of galaxies that reflect her dreams and yet are never, ever enough. She thinks of her Auntie Nino and the promise Nino has made all Jupiter’s short life: that Jupiter is destined for great things.
The vastness of space, open and endless and calling your name...
Jupiter blinks until the words are gone. “Is this my destiny?” she asks. “Auntie Nino says - ”
Her prince’s eyes flash, and he bares his teeth in a snarl, rising in a swirl of dark silk. “Do not speak of tercies as if they are your family,” he says. His voice quivers with his anger, and the skies themselves seem to spin around him, as if the earth will tear itself apart at the first tremor of his rage. Jupiter merely stares, awed but unafraid. The storm will pass. Storms always do - and his are quickly spent.
Her stern and certain face seems to calm him, and the tension melts away from him, released upon a breath. “They are nothing, Jupiter,” he whispers, tilting his head. “They are nothing. But you - you, my child, are everything.”
Jupiter closes her eyes and tastes that word: everything. She sees herself as constellations, as glittering nebulae in the vast darkness of space - as soil and stars and every creature she can name in a breath. Everything.
She remembers that feeling: remembers what it was to be endless, and feels eternity swelling in her blood.
When she opens her eyes, some of her childishness is gone. The makings of a queen are there in her face - in the hard angle of her jaw, the coldness of her eyes, the firm set of her little mouth. Her genes remember, even if she cannot grasp it yet. All she needs is time.
She holds up her arms in a silent plea. For an instant, they stand there, she and her savior: he looming over her, she below him, staring up into his face. His hand trembles as he holds it out towards her, touching her small fingers. The air between them shudders and seems to crackle; then, in an instant, he sweeps her up into his arms, clutching her to him so tightly that it’s almost painful.
“Shall we go home, mother?” he whispers, pressing his nose against her cheek.
She lowers her head and nestles against her shoulder, breathing the scent of his collar and his skin. “Home,” she murmurs, and closes her eyes.