The Sahara was vast. Sometimes it seemed as endless as the ocean. In a way it reminded him of Daxam, with its own vast deserts, the dark blue hues the sand made as it shifted, ever shifting, ever changing. They had a saying about that, even, not that Lar even remembered the exact saying. Something about change and its inevitability. It felt apt now though, the truth behind it anyway, as he watched golden sands dance in the sweltering winds. He felt properly terrified at the prospect of flying toward the only heartbeat close enough for him to hear. Not that it would have mattered if they were in the middle of Time’s Square, for as well as he knew its idiosyncrasies. There was a nervous energy in the air, crackling and uncomfortable and, again, terrifying, as he floated just far enough to still turn around and decide that this, whatever this was, could wait just one more day. There was so much that had been lost, so much he could stand to lose. He took a breath and wondered if somewhere out there on a ship or on a new, forsaken planet the remaining Daxamites would remember the saying in its entirety.
The formality was a little funny, actually, and he struggled not to let his lips curl into a fond lopsided smile as he landed, the simple sight of her with her unsure footing and darting, courageous eyes enough that he relaxed if only so that he could reach out to reassure her that this wasn’t scary and not be a liar. “Hello, Kara Zor-El.” He said instead, his hands tangling together behind his back as he bowed properly. “Of course. You asked.” He grinned privately to himself. As if she could call on him and he not come. The thought was, well, not silly, misguided maybe, or maybe he was just bold. His mother told him often to use his words and mean them, though he found that it was possible she had just created an outlier, in that way if no other.
“The milky way looks beautiful here. This planet is lucky.” He said, not bold enough to let the moment pass without a fight, “You must have never gotten a view of our galaxy like this from Kandor.” He shook his head. He had never even gotten a view like this from the outskirts on Daxam and the light pollution there was nothing compared to the cities. “I remember the lights of the floating city being blinding when I was on Krypton. I imagine your city must have been much the same, no?”
“No, you– you couldn’t really see the stars like this on Krypton. We had telescopes, but..” She looked up at the sky. Kara wasn’t sure if she could handle the thought of Krypton. How the spires stretched so far into the sky they nearly disappeared, how it sounded when the wind blew through the crystals. She could remember the Jewel Mountains, and her first ceremony at the Fire Falls. Everything was so bright in so many ways, whether it be the red light of Rao off the jewels, the lights of buildings and pods blotting out the atmosphere, or the warm radiance of the fire as it spilled off the cliff.
The Sahara wasn’t Krypton. It was the wind blow sand across the soles of her shoes and lit only by the patchwork of pinpricks of light in the sky. It was beautiful in its own way, of course. Kara picked it because–
“If you look, there...” She pointed to a space between brighter stars, where a small dot of light could be seen. It looked almost reminiscent of what the humans called Beetlejuice, a faint orange-red tint to it. “There’s Rao.”
She could’ve picked the Fortress of Solitude, she knew Kal would have let her. It’s landscape was so much like home, with all the pieces assembled in one place. She could’ve picked Sanctuary, for there she wouldn’t even have to ask. There were her memories, bathed in red that was constantly shifting with the waters around it. What she’d stolen from Kal was gathered there, it was the Krypton she’d created. She could’ve made this look like home, but she didn’t want to.
She wanted to be able to see Rao’s light herself. To know that somehow, despite time and distance and devastation, his gladsome rays could still shine down upon them.
She looked back down to Lar. He’d bowed when he landed in front of her. He spoke her language in kind, and shared memories of the same star. He’d shown time and again that he understood what culture and the loss of it meant, how hard it could be to both respect and uphold it, while also trying to find their place in a world that was so entirely different. He’d been respectful of her beliefs, even as she’d thrown them back in his face, angry and unseeing. The Sahara wasn’t Krypton, and neither was Lar.
But Kara found she loved him, anyway. She loved him even if traditions told her not to, she loved him even if her father would scoff. She loved him even while she struggled to come to terms with letting go of the pieces of Krypton she had left. She loved him.
Because he bowed, and he smiled, and she knew he loved her, too.
She pulled in a breath, and straightened her shoulders. This wasn’t about letting go of Krypton, or its traditions. It was about acknowledging where those traditions had been wrong, and molding them around something new, something better. Something that would let the both of them love without letting go of what was important to them.
“I’m sorry for the formality, but...” She tried for professional, for the same type of formal presentation that would have taken place on Krypton, but she found the corners of her lips pulling up in a smile. If only for a moment. She pulled the formal proposal from behind her back, and the last time those papers had been laid between them, she shoved them right back at him. Her voice shook when she continued.
“Lar Gand of Daxam, I would like to propose a formal courting between the House of El and the House of Gand.” She held the packet out. In it, her own drawings had been added. Lar in Cincinnati with his head tipped back in laughter, or with his head bowed over a book of poetry. Her own poems that reminded her of him, words written in the blank spaces between. At the end were all the signatures Lar had gathered, but an additional page was added reflecting Lar’s family, with Brainy’s own signature at the end.
“We have...we still have so much to work through, so much to talk about. And I know that. I know we’re not ready for the Fire Falls. But, Lar–” She shifted and slid just the smallest bit closer, “I love you. I love the person you are, I love your poems, I love laughing with you. I want to be with you. I want to promise to be with you.”
With that, she pulled out the bracelets she’d found in the bathroom ceiling. Lar had done an amazing job with them, the colors perfect. Kara had added one more gold thread, something of her own, signifying the work they’d both put in. “If, if you’ll have me.”
