Summery: What happened to Mon-El, while Kara was finding her way in life.
Notes: This chapter is in Mon-El's Point of view
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Prince Mon-El was on the balcony again. This time though, he didn't seem as conflicted as that night many years ago. The sky was covered with thick clouds, making the night much darker, just like the clothes he was wearing. He was determined – despite the fear in his heart, Mon-El had made his mind this night. He gripped the railing for a moment and let his mind go back, reminding himself why he was here right now.
The fear of losing all he had in war and the intense empathy he felt for the poor and slaves didn't last that long on Mon-El's mind after that night – he knew well how to distract himself. He let go of the feelings of burden mostly because he had no one to share them with, and also, he had no saying in any matter. Talking about the justice issues of Daxam with his family and with others was forbidden, leaving Mon-El with no choice but to let it all slide.
By the age of nineteen, the handsome prince was most famous for his unforgettable parties and memorable nights with girls. Deep inside though, he still felt unsettled and unhappy no matter what he did. Whenever he was alone, Mon-El loathed himself for his uselessness. He knew in his parents' eyes he was a pawn that they wanted to control. He wasn't supposed to have any opinions of his own, and his only duty was to do exactly as they instructed.
Mon-El's childhood dream of becoming the beloved king Mon-El had long been forgotten, along with his wishes to learn martial arts, which was easily ignored by his mother. She thought a better use of her son's time should involve learning various strategies and political tactics, leaving the action to their trusted royal guards. Mon-El was forced to watch as ship after ship filled with soldiers left Daxam, to locations his mother had chosen. He knew for a fact that his father had decided to keep quiet about it all, since Lar knew he couldn't get through to his wife with words, to put a stop to colonizing and manipulate weaker planets. Even in his distracting life as a playboy, Mon-El heard about the awful condition in some parts of Daxam were subject to, and sometimes when he went for a stroll in the city, he saw the terrible treatment of the slaves – whipping them into obedience, deny them simplest rights such as having a spouse or children, punish them for smallest mistakes and sometimes even killing them for being an annoyance. Mon-El himself could never bring himself to act with such brutality against the poor souls. The slaves and servants in the palace knew Mon-El for his kindness towards them and would do anything for him – something that enraged his mother. He pitied the slaves gravely and never supported men who had a hand in slave smugglings.
It was no wonder then, that the broken system – where the rich only grew wealthier and the poor became weaker by the day – had led to uprisings and small riots among slaves. Unfortunately, they stood against the power of his mother, who could easily silence them with severe punishments, or even public executions. Mon-El feared the future.
Left feeling hopeless, Mon-El thought it would go like this forever. But the night before his twenty first birthday, while he had planned for a huge ceremony, his father surprised him by coming into his room and requested to talk to him. (Something he couldn't remember had ever happening before.) The pair both sat on the expensive sofas in front of the elaborate fireplace in Mon-El's room.
He noticed his father looked troubled and pale, avoided Mon-El's eyes as they sat there quietly for a while. The only sound in the room was the crackling of fire, which kept the room warm in the colder seasons. King Lar Gand laced his fingers together and leaned his elbows on his knees, staring at the fire before turning to look at his son, who was observing him with waiting eyes.
"Son... there is some things I need to tell you..."
The king finally began with a hoarse voice, making Mon-El even more worried. He leaned forward showing that he was all ears. The king looked at his prince quizzically for a moment as if to question he had made the right decision when he continued.
"Next week we are hosting the royal family of Byrnian. It will be mostly about assuring them of our alliance with them and we need you to be there."
Mon-El didn't like where this was going but didn't say anything while his father continued.
"The daughter of Byrnian monarchy is going to be here and we need you to keep her company for a few days."
Mon-El was getting more upset as the possibilities crossed his mind. "Father what are you suggesting?" His eyes widened, and his father almost frowned at him, changing from its previous indifferences.
"Son, we need you to marry the Byrnian princess as a part of our union. This shall strengthen our relationship with them and increase the wealth of our nation."
Mon-El was beyond shocked. He couldn't form a sentence in his mind to reject this offer as quickly as he wanted to. In all the years he was forced to obey his parents, Mon-El didn't imagine they would go as far as forcing him to marry someone. He knew in Daxam's culture latch marriages were normal. But as the prince, he always believed that he would have the privilege to choose his own mate. Otherwise, what good being a prince was for?
He looked furiously at his father and for a moment he saw a flash of sorrow on his face.
"Mon-El, I know this is unexpected and difficult, but you have a duty to Daxam as the crowned prince. "
Mon-El couldn't take the talk of arranged marriage anymore, bolting up to walk a few steps away, before exploding.
"Is that my duty? Or is this you trying to make up for the empty vaults and the enemies waiting to enact their revenge us? Why am I the one who has to pay for all that you and mother do?! Do you even care about what I want?!"
Glaring at his father, Mon-El clenched his fists, shaking from his effort to keep his raging wrath under control. Emotions bottled up for years billowed just beneath the surface, causing his chest to feel like flames. His father also stood up from his place and held his hand up, asking him to calm down.
"Son, please. I know this is too much to ask of you, but you have to understand the situation isn't good. If you refuse to do this, Daxam will lose a great ally and a lot of people will have to pay for it."
"Since when do you care about the people?" Mon-El gritted his teeth and immediately saw how hard the words struck his father. Lar Gand's face turned red as his eyes glowed with anger.
Mon-El wasn't sure how long they stayed locking eyes with one another before his father finally spoke.
"You are too immature to understand. I will not tolerate you talking like this to your father and your king! You will do as I say, and later, you will realize this is for the better!"
And with that, Mon-El watched as his father turned sharply to leave the room.
His heart dropped as felt a lump forming in his throat. His father was half way through the door when Mon-El stopped him with a hushed voice. "Then why don't you make me realize now?"
The king gripped the golden doorknob so hard that his knuckles turned white, turning to look at Mon-El. His expression was not one of anger he was expecting, instead, his father seemed...sad.
"One day you will understand."
Lar held his son's gaze for a few more seconds and Mon-El felt like his father wanted to say more. But he just nodded and left. Mon-El stood where he was for a long time before going on the balcony, feeling out of breath from all the emotions inside him. The cold and dry weather did little for him. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, before opening them to see his breath swirling in a white smoke before him. He thought maybe with his party tomorrow night, he could forget everything for at least a day.
*
Mon-El couldn't have be more wrong. His twenty first birthday was one of the worst days of his life. Ditching his own party extremely early, he didn't even glance at the pretty girls the way he usually did, and to his utter disappointment and also relief, no one even noticed he was gone. His guests were far too drunk and distracted to even notice his absence.
Mon-El walked through the empty gardens on his own for hours to think, but kept getting more upset. It was getting late, so he decided to speak with his mother before she called it a night. He passed by the halls in which his so called 'friends' were having the time of their lives, the music was loud and obnoxious. Halting behind the door to the gathering room his mother usually spend time in, Mon-El was so upset that he walked in without knocking.
"Mother I need to speak with – "
He announced but stopped when he saw his mother wasn't alone as expected. She was standing in front of her golden throne in her usual black gown, handing something small to an unfamiliar man. He thought he saw a flash of a small green object in between their hands. He didn't care what was happening, but Mon-El didn't like it when the short dark haired man hid the object in his sleeve in a flurry and unreadable face, before he hurried past Mon-El to leave the room, without even nodding to his prince.
His mother looked at him with her cold eyes and motioned her hand for him to come closer. If she was angry about being interrupted she didn't say anything, just sitting on her throne gracefully.
"How can I help you, son?"
Mon-El swallowed – his mouth was dry from spending hours away from drinks in the cold. Also, he wasn't sure how to open the conversation. He licked his lips, before starting. "Father told me last night about this latched marriage you have planned for me."
The queen smoothed her clothes and sighed. "Let me guess, you are against this decision?" Rhea's face was tired, as Mon-El watched her in disbelief.
"Of course I am mother! Am I not going to have any say in such important matter involving my life? Shouldn't I have the right to marry someone I- "
"Love?" His mother wrinkled her nose as if disgusted. Mon-El watched as his mother stood up.
"There is no such thing as love Mon-El. I am disappointed that you even think of such childish things. I thought you were past these fairy tales."
Mon-El could hear his heartbeat in his ears as blood roared to his face at her words. After how his conversation went last night with his father, he decided to hold his tongue for the hope of getting through to his mother with reasoning.
"I'm not that ignorant. This is my life too. Are you telling me to let you decide everything for me, while I'm an adult?"
"You may be an adult but you are still too young. Don't be so upset, Mon-El, we all have lived and married liked this for centuries. A marriage is just another duty you perform. Don't fool yourself with such nonsense as love."
"Are you saying that you don't love father?"
The Queen didn't even smile or frown at his question, which was scarier than anything else he had experienced. He felt even colder than he felt the in the gardens.
"No. we are partners and you should start hardening yourself too Mon-El. I can't have you this soft and emotional as the next leader of our nation. Your only concern should be the growth and success of Daxam in the galaxy."
Mon-El couldn't believe her words and was rendered speechless. He felt his heart broke at the sight of his mother's emotionless eyes. "But mother – "
His mother turned her back to him, much like how she had walked away from his father on that night many years ago.
"Stop this right now Mon-El! Go to your chambers and act like a true prince! I will not tolerate such defiance of our commands. You will marry the daughter of Byrnian King to join our power and army with theirs. Now leave."
Mon-El felt his eyes sting and blinked quickly as he glared at his mother's back, before he stormed out of the room without saying anything more. His heart wouldn't stop booming in his ribcage. And e thumped up the stairs as he went to his room.
As much as it made him angry to do exactly as his mother said, his room was the only place he could be alone right now. He smashed vases and broke a chair in his rage. That night he didn't sleep at all.
*
The Byrnian princess was just like any other Byrnian he had seen. Ginger hair, brown eyes, and a lot shorter than he was – very mediocre and boring. Mon-El offered his hand to her just as custom dictated and guided her throughout the palace, before wandering the gardens, without even bothering to speak to her.
He was wearing a very serious face the whole time, bitterly thinking maybe his mother had finally succeeded turning him into herself. The frustration in him hadn't reduced and he hadn't spoken a word with his parents since then. He didn't throw any more parties in the past week, which was a record on his history books and everyone gossiped about him getting ready for a wedding.
When their guests arrived a week later He stood silently by his parents to greet them and they told him to give the princess a tour of the palace. She was cladded in a white dress and despite Mon-El's cold expression, she was happy to hold his hand a bit too firmly, giggling and speaking to him like she didn't notice he wasn't even listening to her.
That three days seemed endless and empty for Mon-El and he had never hated his life more. The wedding was set to happen in exactly one month on Daxam. This one month was, according to Byrnian culture, an important time for the bride to become ready for her marriage and although it was a relief to Mon-El to have one more month of his normal life, upset his mother for the delay.
A few days after Byrnians had left, Mon-El found himself at the gardens lonely again. It was odd for him to spend this much time alone, but it was like he couldn't be around anyone anymore. He even stopped having meals with his parents. He ate alone in his room and though it could be considered an insult to the king and queen, they didn't protest. It was dark and very late and he felt tired and stiff from walking in endless circles around the red and purple plants in the cold. He walked to his room, the same route he had gone for the past days. He was passing his father's study in the dark hallway, when he heard a clear sound of glass shattering – cutting through the quiet as the sound echoed. The door was only an inch open and a yellow beam of light brightened the floor against the wall in a slim stripe. Mon-El was about to ignore it, deciding it didn't seem that important, but following the sound he heard someone chocking and coughing violently. He rushed and opened the door, seeing his father was kneeling on the floor clutching his throat, a broken wine glass was in front of him. Mon-El dropped beside his father while he put a hand around his shoulders.
"Father! What's wrong?"
Not getting any answers but only more coughs, Mon-El wanted to get up and run to call for help. But his father gripped his wrist so hard like his life depended on it – and maybe it did – and made Mon-El stop. Lar looked into his son's frightened eyes and coughed, speaking with great effort.
"Mon...el... for...forgive...me..."
Mon-El felt his eyes welling up. He tried to comfort his father with a shaken voice. "Stop father! Let me go get you help!"
King Lar Gand shook his head as if he was mustering all the power he had, and brought his other hand up to caress his son's hair, whispering so low that Mon-El had to bring his ear to his father's mouth to catch the words.
"Run... she will not let you....stop her... Run to the west... behind the ... Grindel... at dawn... find Damo... save Dax..."
The words seem meaningless to Mon-El, jumbled and incoherent. But he took in every single one of them, because he knew these were his last words. Before his father could say any more, a seizure took him over and Mon-El started shouting for help as tears rolled down his face, and his father became motionless in his arms. Mon-El shook him, begging him to stay awake. The blurry eyes of his father kept staring at him, as the last of his life drained from them.
"I... love ...you...son..."
Lar's eyes closed. And Mon-El had no time to grieve as servants came into the room and moved the king to the royal physician's court.
He didn't need anyone to tell him what had happened. His eyes stopped on the broken glass and spilled wine. His father had been poisoned. The rage inside him filled his entire being like a volcano as Mon-El wiped his tears away and stood on shaky legs with only vengeance on his mind. He wanted to find the killer. He stormed out breathing heavily as new tears threatened to spill.
He walked fast to get to his mother, guessing she might be in her bedroom, completely unaware of this devastation. Mon-El had just turned down the hallway when he saw someone lurking in the shadows, and tackled him without thinking. Everything about this smelled suspicion. He saw him as the killer and as they rolled with each other into the light, he saw his face. He was there that night with his mother. This man had received something from her. Mon-El began to harshly search his clothes and he found it in his sleeve – the small sick green bottle.
His mind had gone blank and his hands became numb as the truth hit him. In that moment of weakness, the culprit shoved Mon-El off, before springing up and started running away. Mon-El remained on the floor, his whole body shivering without his consent.
The funeral was everything everyone imagined. Majestic, filled with heart breaking and epic speeches, and flowing tears. He stood there by his mother never speaking a word. It was as if the world had stopped and everything had crumbled. He didn't shed a tear, didn't look up, and he stopped thinking altogether. It was as if he had died with his father that night.
They announced that one of their "enemies" had poisoned the king and they were searching nonstop to find the killer. The irony was so high that he wanted to laugh manically. He didn't forget what his father told him with his last breath and after a while, those mysterious words and his admission that he loved Mon-El, for both the first and last time, were the only thing he lived for. He clung to them with dear life, repeating them in his mind over and over and started wandering to west to find out what Grindel was.
There wasn't much time left for him now, with only a few days ahead to his wedding. He had to do something or he would have to enter a life with a girl whose name he couldn't even remember. The queen hadn't even postponed the ceremony one day, even after the loss of her husband. This was a trap. This was his doom which his mother had planned for him and his father was warning him about.
Two days before his wedding, Mon-El stood before the statue of "Grindel the Great" as Rao was about to light Daxam. There was no one else around in this early hours, except for a few lying figures of slaves or beggars with ragged and filthy clothes, lying against the walls in sand. They were sleeping and weak from hunger.
Mon-El was wearing a black cloak over his royal uniform, to keep it from attracting too much attention. Keeping still and waiting to see what will happen, he finally he saw a figure approaching. He braced himself and felt for his small gun under the robe. He had found Damo.
And Damo was the reason he was standing on the balcony this night. Damo was his father's contact in the rebellions. It made sense that his mother had killed him if she had found out about his secret activities with the rebels. And when Mon-El went with Damo to one of their secret layers, they showed him all that was wrong with Daxam and all his mother had done. They gave him a place by themselves and a chance to fix all that was wrong with his nation. And that was when Mon-El made up his mind. He found his purpose in life. And it was as if he could feel it to his bones.
Mon-El looked up one more time at the city lights and took in the sight before him. It was time to leave this place. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to come back, but he wouldn't miss it, at least, not for a while. He adjusted his belt and made sure his knife was securely hidden on his back then checked his watch. After exactly one minute, the guards changed their shift, allowing Mon-El to take off and leave the palace in shadows without anyone noticing.
Prince Mon-El was no more.