Love to see your prompt call! I'm so excited ❤️ I'll give you: G'Kar and Londo, Alternate Universe: Roleswap. However you wanna interpret that is gonna be awesome 👀
(Takes place sometime in mid season 4, before "No Surrender, No Retreat")
Although G'Kar had firmly rejected his people's demand to lead them, and continued to do so, he found himself spending increasing amounts of time on the rapidly rebuilding Narn homeworld. His duties on Babylon 5 felt less important than ever, with Earth and Minbar both enmeshed in internal conflict and the League in turmoil. With Narn free of the Centauri, there was no longer a price on his head. He missed his friends on Babylon 5, but he was able to see them during his trips back. And - truth be told - the station was filled with reminders of a time in his life he did not particularly want to revisit. On his homeworld, there was little chance of turning a corner and coming face to face with something (or someone) he had no wish to see.
Although he refused to take up an official position with the reconstructed Kha'Ri, he definitely had some role in the government whether he wanted it or not -- a position with no formal title, something of an ambassador from other worlds to his own people. He advised, he did not command, but he ended up meeting with the Kha'Ri nearly every day to offer counsel, as well as helping with the organization and training of the rebuilt military. It was not the quiet writer's life that he sometimes dreamed of, but there were times when he was able to sit in the red dust of the rock garden behind his quarters in Moxtoke, under the free skies of Narn, scribbling new pages of his book, and he could not imagine being more content in any other place.
He was there, pondering revisions to his latest chapter, when a group of Narn in the uniforms of the new space force entered the garden with enough noise and high spirits for an invasion force.
"Honored G'Kar! We have brought you a gift!"
G'Kar sighed deeply and laid down his book and pen. This was one thing he had been dealing with in frustrating quantity; it was a mix of genuine appreciation from his people, who still gave him far more credit for freeing them than he believed he deserved, and attempts to bribe him, and he did not care to find out which one this was. "The only gift I want is that of solitude, so please leave me to it."
"You'll like this one!" exclaimed one of the others, and G'Kar began to experience a deep sense of foreboding - perhaps this was what the humans called deja vu - even before they dragged out whatever it was they had brought. It was large - alive - tied up? An animal .... no ....
G'Quan, G'Kar thought, stunned, as they threw a chained, dust-covered, bleeding Londo Mollari at his feet.
There was a blank moment when he thought Mollari might be dead, and he had absolutely no idea how to feel about that - how he was supposed to feel about that - but then Mollari coughed.
"You fools," G'Kar said, finding that he could breathe again. "He is the Prime Minister of the Centauri, don't you know that? If they find out we have him, there will be war again, and we may not survive it this time." They had survived Cartagia's assassination as a people only because no one among the Centauri (other than this specific Centauri, and Vir) knew of his collaboration in the Emperor's death. Had he participated directly, the bombardment would not have stopped until every Narn was dead.
"They won't find out about it. We were discreet."
"Really?" G'Kar snapped. He wanted to take every single one of these idiotic hooligans and pitch them over the balustrade into the mud-choked river below the garden wall. Headfirst. "What did you do, abduct him from Babylon 5? Do you want trouble with the humans too?"
"From a shuttle, actually," said Mollari thickly.
He coughed again and pushed himself himself up, shakily, to his hands and knees, then sat awkwardly back on his heels; his hands were chained to his ankles, making it impossible for him to straighten up. Still, he looked up at G'Kar with something less than the abject terror that G'kar remembered so well and so painfully from the Dust incident. He looked afraid, it was true, but there was bravado in it, and even some wry humor.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. G'Kar couldn't even think what to say. Mollari, of course, had to have the first word.
"You know, G'Kar," he said, half smiling through bloody, slightly pointed Centauri teeth, "we have got to stop meeting like this."
