#questa

I saw elio, very cute, cried.

Other than the humming of the shuttle’s engines, the ride back to the Communiverse was mostly quiet. Olga found herself awkwardly sandwiched between Grigon and Uk’ron’s—one of his brethren-in-arms—front legs, as there was no space for her to sit. To their credit, the Hylurgians were trying their best not to squash her much. 

Her eyes were fixed on Glordon’s empty carapace, the memory of the spikes sending a shiver down her spine. The poor kid was (mentally) around Elio’s age, and yet he was expected to get inside that thing and become a soldier. But at the same time, she understood Grigon’s reasoning. He was trying to keep his only son safe. 

Her heart drummed inside her chest as the shuttle’s doors opened, but the familiar sight of the Communiverse’s colorful shapes, a sharp contrast with Hylurg’s blacks and oranges, gave her a sense of relief. Up ahead, the Ambassadors were waiting, most of them looking nervous. 

Grigon and his soldiers walked off the platform, Glordon’s carapace (in a sort of auto-mode) and Olga herself on tow. As the Ambassadors chattered amongst themselves, Questa moved forward.

“Greetings, Lord Grigon.” She greeted cordially, though Olga caught the smallest amount of nervousness in her voice. 

“Skip the pleasantries. Where is my son?” asked Grigon impatiently. 

“Candidate Solís is watching over him. They should be here soon.” 

Olga didn’t miss the subtle, knowing glance Grigon threw in her direction. “Olga Solís is unharmed, as I promised.” He said, gently pushing her forward.

“Are you alright, miss Olga?” asked Questa, visibly concerned. 

“I’m fine. Lord Grigon was a gracious host,” said Olga. That seemed to surprise Questa and the other Ambassadors; guess they expected Grigon to put her in a dungeon, throw her in his lava pits, or something like that. 

“I’m… glad to hear that,” said Questa. Grigon’s eyes narrowed at the skepticism in her voice. 

“What? You don’t think I can be a good host either?” the Blood Emperor growled. 

“No, no! T-That’s not quite it, My Lord…!” The Gommian stuttered, but her trembling voice said it all.  

Olga quickly stepped between the two before Grigon could bring out his hand cannon. “Your Wrath, you let me taste Hylurgian cuisine. It’s only fair that I show you Earth’s food.” 

Grigon narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “Very well.”

Olga internally sighed in relief. That should keep him distracted while Elio and Glordon showed up; the boys were likely having a good time, and she didn’t want to spoil it. As Oooo graciously had the mimollusks create a table nearby, she asked Grigon—and by extension, the curious Ambassadors—what kind of food he’d like to taste.

“What do you have that’s spicy?” asked Grigon. 

Olga pondered, mentally listing the hottest dishes she could remember. After a minute, she told the mimollusks to create various pots of curry and Dave’s hot chicken reaper level. Nearby, some Ambassadors whispered amongst themselves about feeling the heat from their spot. 

“These are phaal curry and kismot killer, two of Earth’s hottest dishes.”

Grigon sniffed the pots and frowned. “They don’t feel that hot,” he murmured. 

One of his higher-ranked soldiers stepped forward. “Your Wrath, let me taste it first,” he said, but Grigon waved his hand dismissively. 

“Don’t bother, Fel’gur. I doubt the Communiverse would be stupid enough to try poisoning me.” With that, Grigon grabbed the metallic pot like one would a glass and took a sip. He looked down at Olga, digital eyes frowning. “You call this hot? It barely tickled my palate.” 

Olga’s eyes widened, lower jaw hanging open. She’s heard of people ending up in the hospital from one spoonful of the kismot killer, and Grigon finds it mild? She definitely didn’t want to imagine the heat of Hylurg’s peppers.

“AAH! SOMEBODY, ANYBODY, GIVE ME WATER!”

Everyone looked back at the table just in time to see Ambassador Helix running off, a spoonful of phaal curry on the ground. 

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen Helix run,” commented Tegmen. 

“Pathetic,” murmured Grigon, taking another sip of kismot killer while his soldiers passed over the phaal curry amongst themselves. And just like the Blood Emperor, none of them felt any heat.

“Miss Olga, I’m quite curious about whether you have any sweet dishes,” said Questa. 

“Oh, there’s plenty!” 

Olga had the mimollusks create a wide variety of dishes from all over the world, while Olga explained what each of them was and what ingredients they were made from. This time, Grigon’s soldiers and the Ambassadors joined in the tasting session; little by little, the tension in the air dissipated as the two parties started mingling, and even engaging in conversations. 

 “Such a magnificent texture!” said Ambassador Turais after tasting kadhi bari. 

“The spices are perfectly blended, and the noodles are a perfect tenderness,” said Ambassador Naos while slurping on some ramen. 

“SO GOOD!” cried out Ambassador Mira, practically devouring some brownies. 

Olga’s attention was mostly fixed on Grigon. The warlord was… harder to read than the Ambassadors, so she had trouble figuring out whether he liked the food or not. That is, until he and some soldiers sampled some sweet-smelling rolls, and Grigon’s eyes widened a bit. 

“…Do you remember House Drakmar’s feasts?” he asked his brethren-in-arms.

“That’s what this reminds me of! You’re thinking of Lady Drahn specifically, right?,” said Uk’ron. 

Grigon nodded. “Indeed. She could be a brute at times, but she certainly knew how to throw a party. She was very fond of sweets.” He glanced down at Olga, intrigued. “How do you call this on your planet, Olga Solís?” 

“Cinnamon rolls, your Wrath. These ones, in particular, are from a family recipe. My grandmother would baste the dough in her special sugar mixture before baking them, then she’d fill each one with a mixed fruit blend,” explained Olga.

Grigon grabbed another roll. “My compliments to your grandmother, then.” 

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. What would abuela Diana think about an alien warlord liking her food? 

Questa curiously grabbed a roll to sample, and her expression brightened. “Quite the delicacy! You can taste the individual flavors of fruit in the filling.”

“Not many people can create a mixture without making a sugary mush out of it. Trust me, I’ve tried lots of them.” replied Grigon casually while munching on his tenth roll. 

Questa seemed surprised at his lack of hostility. She was probably used to seeing the Hylurgian warlord angry or threatening all the time. “Lord Grigon, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Miss Olga.” 

Grigon merely grunted in response, which Olga interpreted as a positive reply. Before following Questa, she had the mimollusks create two more trays of the sweetrolls. 

Once they’d moved to a more private spot, the Gommian’s expression shifted into one of concern. “Are you truly unharmed, miss Olga? Didn’t Lord Grigon hurt you?” she asked. “If he threatened you not to talk about it—”

“No, no, really, I’m okay,” insisted Olga. “Turns out Grigon isn’t such a bad company once you get used to him.” 

That caught Questa off guard. “Is that so?”

“I mean, he’s got a bad temper, a violent streak, and has the emotional intelligence of a brick, but…” Olga glanced at the Hylurgian warlord as he claimed one of the sweetroll trays for himself. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s… just been going through so much lately, but he truly loves his son and he’s quite smart. He said the Communiverse could use a good defense system for a next potential attack or invasion.” 

Questa pondered on her words, then sighed. “I know. From the stories we’ve heard from refugees, Lord Grigon is a cunning tactician. Perhaps, under other circumstances, we might’ve accepted him.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I suppose you learned about the Blood Wars while onboard his ship, didn’t you?” asked Questa. Olga nodded. “One of the Communiverse’s rules is that we must stay out of intergalactic conflicts, because choosing one side would beckon hostility from the opposing faction.

“A couple of hundred years ago, the United Planetary Coallition came and asked to join us. They’re the main anti-Hylurgian faction in the Blood Wars, composed of species from worlds conquered by the Hylurgian Empire, or those who avoided being conquered. They sought to use our technology to fight back against the Hylurgians, so we had to refuse them. If we’d accepted them and Lord Grigon found out…” 

“He would’ve attacked you,” finished Olga, processing the information. “…And if you accept Grigon, the Coallition would think you’re siding with the Hylurgian Empire.” 

It actually made sense. You should never get in the crosfire between two fighting parties, especially if one of said parties is a powerful intergalactic Empire. 

“But why didn’t you just explain that to Grigon?” 

“We were afraid he might not take it well,” admitted Questa.

“Trust me, that man understands politics better than my own people,” said Olga. “It’s a more plausible explanation than just saying ‘you’re not a fit’. With all due respect, that made it sound that you were rejecting him just for being who he is, without actually getting to truly know him. Grigon will never show or even admit it, but…” she quickly looked around to make sure there were no other Hylurgians around, and added quietly. “…that hurt him.” 

Questa lowered her gaze, and for a moment, Olga saw some guilt in her eyes. 

“Daddy!” 

Glordon’s voice made them go back to the party just in time to see the Princeling and Elio finally arriving, the former stretching out his nubs as he waddled toward his father.

“Oh, thank the stars,” said Helix, having returned from wherever he’d run off too. 

“Did you two have a good time?” asked Olga. 

“Yeah, I showed Glordon around,” said Elio. “Are you alright, Olga?” 

“I’m alright, Elio. Just figured I’d share Earth’s food while you and Glordon showed up.”

Satisfied, Elio gave his most regal bow. “Lord Grigon, we return to you, Prince Glordon.” 

“My son,” Grigon approached Glordon and looked him all over. “Did he harm you?” 

“Nop. Everyone was super nice,” said Glordon cheerfully. 

The Blood Emperor examined his son, looking him up and down. When he was certain Glordon was not hurt, his voice shifted. 

“Are you prepared to become the greatest war machie in the universe? To make your enemies tremble at the sight of you? To prove the night of the Hylur—”

“Yep, let’s do it!” said Glordon, cutting him off. 

Olga glanced at the young larva in surprise. That didn’t sound like the reluctant child Grigon had described. 

Speaking of Grigon, the Hylurgian warlord seemed on the same page as her, caught off guard by his son’s response. “Oh… Actually, I had more… more to say, but yes, let’s get on with it.” 

Grigon stepped aside, revealing the open carapace—and its spikes. Several soldiers approached in formation, forming two lines in front of it as Workko and Uk’ron lifted Glordon to place him inside. The Hylurgians stomped ceremoniously, their heavy footfalls echoing throughout the space.; one of the soldiers sang an eerie, high-pitched war song, and another played a tuba-like instrument. From the open carapace, Glordon smiled and waved his nubs to the beat of the music.

Grigon watched with pride as the carapace slowly began to close, but Olga squeezed her eyes when it shut completely, locking Glordon—an innocent child—into place. But contrary to what she expected, there was no scream of pain, no crying. Glordon was oddly quiet as the purple visor powered up and three eyes flickered to life. 

Fully encased, Glordon showed off the intimidating suit, boldly stomping around and revealing its many weapons. “Woo! Oh, yeah!” he cheered. 

Olga, Elio, and the rest of the Ambassadors breathed out sighs of relief while Grigon wiped a digital tear before quickly collecting himself. 

“Witness the power of Hylurg!” he shouted.

 The Ambassadors stood completely still and silent, shocked by the frightening display of armor. 

“Witness!” shouted Grigon, demanding a response. 

Olga was the first to start clapping her hands, urging the others to do the same; the Ambassadors chimed in, all trying to respond as positively as possible. 

“That’s right,” said Grigon proudly. 

Olga thought she saw something else in the Blood Emperor’s gaze when his digital eyes focused on her. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but he took a deep breath instead. 

“…You both have kept your word, so I will keep mine and leave this place, never to return.” 

Grigon ordered the soldiers to fall back, and they dutifully began marching toward the shuttle. 

“…Thank you for your hospitality, your Wrath.” Olga suddenly said as Grigon and Glordon turned to leave.

The warlord stopped in his tracks. After a tense moment of silence, he whispered. “… Farewell, Olga Solís.” His tone was curt, but there was an undercurrent of sadness in it. 

When Grigon and Glordon departed, the Ambasadors surrounded Olga and Elio, congratulating them and showering the latter with praise. The pit of guilt in Olga’s stomach only grew with each word.  

“May I have the honor of joining the Communiverse?” asked Elio. 

“The honor would be ours, candidate Solís,” said Helix. “Or, should I say, Ambassador Solís?”

Questa smiled. “You’re one of us now.” 

Elio’s eyes widened as they presented him with his badge.

BLAM!

A horrifying noise interrupted the moment just before Oooo could place the badge on Elio’s chest. The room fell silent as everyone turned to see what had caused the sound: Grigon had shot the carapace’s head off. 

I watched Elio for the first time yesterday, and immediately started writing this in my notes app. I can't believe that this is what pulled me out of writer's block. https://archiveofourown.org/works/71529761