Title: Hail to the King

Author: TheOtherWillow

Summary: Antarian laws of succession are very specific about what happens when the King dies. Can Michael survive not only being crowned upon Max's death, but having to marry his Queen as well?

Rating: T for language.

Disclaimer: Do you recognize it? Then it's so not mine. Please don't sue me, all I have to lose is my beloved laptop.

Note: I can't get this idea out of my head. I had to write it so it would leave me the hell alone. Sorry if this seems choppy; this thing wanted to be a multi-part epic so bad but I already have to of those in progress, so I had to muscle it into a smaller format. Definitely gonna try and do this in five parts or less. God help me, please less!

Hail to the King

I can't fucking believe it.

Fifteen long years spent fighting to liberate our planet and our people and what happens? No sooner do we manage to kick Khivar's scaly ass and finally see Max crowned does good ol'King Nothing get himself killed in the Antarian version of a car crash. It's such a damned ignoble way to go. Everyone dies, there's no escaping that, but after surviving more than a decade of revolution we all expected to be taken out in battle, or hell, even an assassination. Not victim to some stupid joy-riding kid who didn't know how to drive his daddy's space cruiser.

Look, don't think I'm not devastated by Max's death. Blood or not, he's family. The only one I've ever known, and these years spent liberating Antar had really drawn us all together. Forged us into a family in every way that matters. I'm just so fucking angry. He can't really be gone. What are we going to do with out him?

What am I gonna do without my brother?

Time doesn't stop just because we're grieving and Antarian gods must have a wicked sense of humor because Isabel's been rendered ineligible for coronation by Vilondra's betrayal. According to this planet's wacked out laws of succession, unless Max and Tess's son is found with in the next two galactic standard days (which is physically impossible; without the granolith, traveling to earth takes two years sub-light travel), I'm next in line to rule. Who the hell thought that would be a good idea?

Sure, I could turn it down. But then we're back to square one with the entire planet embroiled in a nasty civil war trying to decide who gets to sit on the throne. While I think Is would be a way better choice for the job, I'm not about to let my people suffer just because I don't think I'll be any good at it. At least I won't be alone. Liz was already the one doing the actual ruling while she was married to Max, I'm sure she'll do the same thing married to me.

Oh, wait. Didn't mention that part yet, did I?

Of course it's not just the throne. Because Max died without an heir, if I don't marry Liz then she's technically no longer a Citizen of Antar. And let me tell ya; non-citizens? They don't come here without a damn good reason. Hell, that's why Isabel and Kyle got married within three days of stepping off the ship. Though it's called life-bonding here instead. Whatever. For such a supposedly enlightened race of beings, my people have some seriously barbaric laws. Slavery is only nominally illegal, and anyone who isn't a Citizen is fair game. One of the first things Max did was outlaw the import of non-citizens, but we still have problems with smugglers bringing shipments in to the colony moons. There are a lot of Antarians who will pay enormous amounts of money for non-citizen "aides," as they're called. I don't care what word you slap on the concept, the only one that fits is slave. Ironic, how universal some things are: Human. Utaran. Antarian. Jojwar. Doesn't matter. Where there's that kind of money to be made, there'll be someone willing to break the law to get it.

And Liz? She'd be worth more cash than some planets see in a year. Quite literally a King's ransom. Or should that be a Queen's? Among the beings in this solar system, she's revered as exceptional. Pure blooded human and a beautiful woman. Hybrid powers. Former General. Queen. Yeah, you heard me right: General. Weren't you listening? Fifteen years, you dogs. What, you thought she sat around crocheting? Bullshit. We all did our part and Liz-the-strategist is a glory to behold. Some of the greatest victories of the war were won with us fighting side by side. On the battlefield or at the planning board, there's no one I trust to watch my back like Elizabeth Evans.

Though I suppose it's going to be Elizabeth Guerin now. I wonder if she'll even want to take my name. Not that we've had a chance to discuss it. Technically, we're not even engaged yet. There's a banquet tonight for us to publicly announce our betrothal, but I haven't even seen the woman since Max's funeral. For all I know, this is just some scheme Larek and Isabel cooked up; I don't have any proof that Liz even knows about this, much less agreed to it.

Fuck. Why hadn't I considered that? Those two are just shady enough to have masterminded a plan like this. Great. I've managed to freak myself out, but I'm not about to let them spring this on Liz. Now I've got to find some way to circumvent a palace full of servants, court toadies, guards, nobles, and dignitaries to make it to the Queen's Chambers, technically the most heavily defended corner of this planet at the moment, all without being detected.

Oh, yeah. Piece of cake.