a/n: this fic is for day sixteen of AU-pril (hosted by @monthlywritingchallenges)! I love The Expanse and I love Andor - two of my favourite shows of all time! And Mon and Avasarala are two of my favourite characters of all time!! So - I decided to write a scenario with them in it together, with my reader insert in the middle heheh. This is a late entry to the challenge, I'm doing some catch-up!
Sometimes you forget you are in another galaxy.
The wedding reception looks like something that could have existed in your home solar system - a place some rich, greedy Inner would have built for him and his friends; a place that you would never have been allowed to set foot in.
You smile to yourself. If they could see me now. A Belter dressed in spider-silk spun Ghorman finery, wearing her tattoos proudly, as she walks across the room with her head held high. Breathing in the atmosphere, surviving on a planet’s surface.
One of the few positive things to come from finding an advanced civilisation through the ring gates - medicine that can fortify a Belter’s body to withstand a planet. It is only a shame that it came with an imperial empire intent on colonising your system.
You never would have thought you would be in a situation like this - a Belter, spying for the leader of Earth - but a shared enemy has done wonders to bring the people of Earth, Mars, and the Belt, together.
“Darling!” Mon Mothma pulls you into a graceful hug, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. She looks unfairly radiant today.
Heat rushes to your face and you quickly pull away, clasping her hands in yours.
“Mon,” you greet, “I’ve come to steal you away.”
She glances around and leans in conspiratorially. “Was it that obvious?”
You grin. “Obvious to me, sasa ke. Everyone else?” You shrug. “I think maybe they do not know you as well as I do.”
You fall into step together, taking a turn about the space. People stand in small gatherings around the centre of the room, where the majority of people have gathered to dance. Your conversation should be private if you speak quietly.
“Have you found anything?” Mon asks, her voice low and urgent. Her mouth barely moves, a veiled attempt at preventing anyone from reading her lips.
You respond in kind. “Not yet. I’ll keep looking.”
“I don’t like this. It feels like she is always two steps ahead of me.”
You nod, feigning concern.
Getting Mon to trust in you was harder than you thought it would be, but Avasarala paid you well enough to find a way. Now Mon has you looking for a mole in her staff, and you have her eating from the palm of your hand.
You almost feel guilty. You like Mon, even if her politics are too soft for your taste. It’s admirable that someone who’s grown up with clean air, blue skies, and a full belly, would give all of it up to speak out against her own government. It reminds you of what the nice Inners used to be like, the ones who felt guilty for what their planets were doing to the Belt, before the Empire came along and started doing the same thing to them too: well-meaning, but ultimately ineffectual.
You hope you are wrong about that last part. Avasarala suspects Mon is involved in the rebellion. You’ve tried to find something - anything - to support her theory, but Mon is good at covering her tracks. It only makes Avasarala more certain she’s hiding something, and it’s your job to find out what.
“Perhaps if I knew where the money is going…” you trail off, treading carefully, “Nevermind. It’s too risky for me to know.”
Mon smiles to a group of people passing by. When they’re out of range, she continues. “Meet me tonight on the docks, underneath the second archway. We’ll be able to speak freely there.”
You meet her gaze, and give her a practised, friendly nod. “I’ll be there.”
She nods. Then her gaze flicks to someone behind you in the distance, and her smile falls. You turn and spot Lucien Rael, the collector Mon occasionally visits. He’s talking animatedly with a party of people, laughing with a big grin on his face.
You turn back to Mon. She’s still watching him. Interesting.
As soon as you have a moment to step out of the reception, you send Avasarala a message over her comms, filling her in.
She’s in attendance at the wedding as well, keeping herself in the loop and keeping up appearances, but you cannot be seen together, especially in private, and especially when she suspects she is being tracked by the ISB.
You don’t receive a response, but that’s expected. Comms are risky, and you have a rule they shouldn’t be used unless absolutely necessary. If she doesn’t respond, it means she trusts you to know what to do next on your own.
When it’s time to meet with Mon, you slip away in shadows.
She’s waiting for you, dressed in a shapeless, hooded cloak.
You signal a Belter greeting on instinct, tapping two fingers to your forehead.
She’s been trying to learn for you, so she smiles and tries to return the gesture. It’s endearing.
You stop a short distance away from her, but she crosses the gap and pulls you further into the shadows, obscuring you as much as possible. It puts you in close proximity to her; your senses filled with the light scent of her perfume. You swallow and try not to think inappropriate thoughts.
Her eyes search your face before she speaks. “I need to know I can trust you.”
You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you nod.
She inhales shakily and places one hand on your waist; pulling you in closer until her lips are almost brushing against your ear.
It takes you a moment to realise it’s a tactic. If anyone sees you, they’ll assume you are lovers. Smart.
You play along, sliding your hands around her waist and turning your head to the side to give her better access.
“Yes. Good,” she whispers against your ear.
You try not to shudder at the praise. You let out a quiet “Mm,” to let her know you understand.
“I think you might already know, or at least suspect, that I’ve been funnelling money into the rebellion,” she whispers.
Your body locks for a moment, heart pounding as you process what this means. This is the confirmation you’ve been looking for.
“Everything I do is coordinated through a contact. He’s been establishing a network.” She hesitates for a moment. “Avasarala knows about my connection to him, I am sure of it. The leak I had you look into my staff for? She showed up unannounced at the rendezvous point I had arranged with my contact. Half an hour later she was gone, and the ISB were swarming all over.”
You try to steady yourself and not give anything away. You gave Avasarala the rendezvous point months ago - though you didn’t know what it was for. You trust that if she led the ISB there, it was for a reason.
“I think she means to turn me in and take over my position. I need you to find out what she knows. I need you to be my spy.”
Before you can react, low, wicked laughter interrupts you both.
Mon pulls away from you and whips around at the sound.
You swallow and step further back into the shadows when you see who it is.
“Madam Avasarala,” Mon greets a little too cheerily, “what are you doing here?”
Avasarala smiles, and looks pointedly at the way Mon is gripping your hand. “Oh, I do hope I am not interrupting.”
You quickly snatch your hand away, blood rushing to your face even though you have nothing to hide from her.
Mon takes it in stride. “Please,” she tuts, “if you’re thinking you can hold this over my head, don’t bother. My husband and I have an arrangement.”
Avasarala’s smile grows. “And after all that talk in there about ‘love everlasting’…”
Mon drops the pretense. “What do you want, Madam?”
“I want my spy back.” Her cold gaze flicks to you. “Javelin.”
Your blood runs cold. The codeword? Here? Now?
When you hesitate, Avasarala holds out her hand to you, beckoning.
Mon stiffens and turns back to you. Her eyes widen. “No.”
You take a step away from Mon, circling around until you are by Avasarala’s side. She closes a cold hand over your outer elbow and pulls you closer to her side.
“It was you?” Mon takes a step back. “All this time?”
You look to Avasarala, allowing her to take the lead. Whatever her play is here, you’ll back it.
She rolls her eyes at Mon. “If I had known I would be indirectly whoring my spy out to you, perhaps I would have chosen someone less pretty.”
You stiffen. “Nothing happened, Madam,” you say softly, trying to reassure her.
She pins you with a silencing look.
Mon makes a broken sound of frustration. “I suppose this is when you turn me in to the ISB, then?”
Avasarala laughs. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“If you’re working with them because you think they’ll go easy on your system, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Avasarala raises a hand, cutting her off. “I don’t have time for the self righteous bullshit right now, Senator.” She adopts a softer tone. “I’m not working with the ISB. I’m here to make an alliance.”
“An alliance?” Mon scoffs. “And how could I possibly trust you after this?” She gestures at you.
You look down at the ground. A wave of shame washes over you, heat rushing to your face. The feeling is unfamiliar and unwelcome and you try your best to shake it off. You are a spy. A Belter. You do not feel shame for doing what it takes to protect your people.
“Because I had to know I could trust you.” Avasarala responds plainly. She holds up a listening device. “It’s a short range listening device we Earthers, Belters, and Martians, use. I suppose your civilisation has advanced far beyond this. Perhaps that is why it did not register as anything unusual when my luggage was scanned.” She smiles knowingly. “I heard everything you told her. And now I know I can trust you, I’m pulling my spy out, so that you know you can trust me too.”
Mon stares hard at her. “You really want to join the rebellion.”
Avasarala nods. “If it means saving my people, I will do anything.”
Footsteps sound nearby, and you react on instinct, pushing Mon further back into the shadow of the archway, pulling Avasarala with you.
You all freeze and wait for the footsteps to fade. You try not to think too hard about being sandwiched in between the two women who have starred in one too many fantasies of yours late at night.
You accidentally meet Mon’s gaze, and quickly look away.
From behind you, Avasarala purrs quietly, “we cannot talk here for much longer. We need to establish a way to communicate.”
“That’s nearly impossible,” Mon hisses. “Do you know how difficult it was for me to slip out tonight?”
“About as hard as it was for me, I imagine,” Avasarala responds. “The ISB is so far up my ass I’m choking on them.”
Mon nods in concession.
“I could do it.”
They are both silent for a moment.
You glance between them. “I’ve already been doing it, haven’t I? Mon, you could keep me on your staff - you don’t have to tell me anything,” you cut her off before she can protest, “but you could still use me as a point of contact.” You look back at Avasarala. “Yes?”
Avasarala gives the smallest of nods.
You turn to Mon.
A muscle feathers in her jaw. She has a hard look in her eyes you’ve never seen levelled at you before. You hate it.
You hate the guilt you feel even more.
It takes you a moment to realise you’re glaring. You blink and look away, and wait for Mon’s inevitable rejection. In her eyes, you betrayed her. Of course she won’t want you around.
And if she doesn’t need you, Avasarala won’t have any use for you either.
Your hand creeps up to your neck on instinct, feeling along your Belter markings.
You can’t imagine going back to your system now, sitting around hoping other people are going to fix this without you. Fuck.
“Well?” Avasarala whispers.
Mon takes a deep breath.
Your hair stands on end and you watch her out of the corner of your eye.
“Very well.”
Relief floods through you, and you nod to yourself.
For now, you get to stay.
If I wrote a sequel, there would definitely be smut in the future! Reader has gotta earn back Mon's trust somehow...
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Let's talk about Chrisjen Avasarala's outfits in The Expanse
The first time we ever meet Deputy Undersecretary of the United Nations, Chrisjen Avasarala, she's chilling out in her fancy, cozy house, checking out her outfit and hair in the mirror, and playing with her grandson. She's rocking a lovely gold sari, huge earrings, and big ol' bangles.
Minutes later, she's still wearing that gorgeous shimmering outfit...as she's at a UN Black Site, interrogating a Belter terrorist who is being tortured using gravity.
(The whole scene is a masterclass in character introduction of a feminine, refined, powerful, badass. 10/10 writing).
But I want to talk Avasarala's outfit right here.
Saris are up to 9 feet in length and are often elegantly draped. You NEED gravity and resources to make the fabric work. Especially shimmering silky fabrics like that.
Doubly so for jewelry. Earrings cannot be worn like that under space helmets (I say from experience being an earring lover and motorcycle enthusiast) lest they damage the wearer or break. Bracelets would be impractical in space too, especially the bigger ones that clank and announce someone's presence, like Avasarala.
Point in, Avasarala marching in full regalia like that to a Belter is full flaunting of not only her heritage, but Earth's power and role. She is wearing a beautiful, rich, cultured outfit no Belter could ever wear in their lifetime and she knows it.
(image description: Chrisjen Avasarala from The Expanse, standing in a yellow-red-orange dress against a blue-purple background, stars around her head.)
