Version 2.2: PG 13
Chapters: 1 - 2
Download .Doc: N/A
Warnings: Abuse, Language, Violence
Updated Version: December 27, 2011
Author's Note: As with many of my writings, this is a collaboration between my husband, Princey, and myself
Anger, seething. Darkness. It bubbled within her, spreading to every fiber of her being. She could see nothing but red. Fury would be the fool's downfall. All who repressed her would fall under her eventually. The woman knew that as well as she knew anything else. Through passion, she would gain strength. Her strength would free her.
The wet atmosphere clung to her ruddy skin. Beads of moisture slid down her upper arm, rolling down her fore-arm, and dripped off of her fingertips. Raising a hand, she pushed her dark hair off of her forehead. She was unlike many of her brethren. While many had facial appendages, she had none. With the exception of her skin tone, her high cheekbones, and small, raised ridges along her breastbone, she appeared almost human.
She stared out the window, awaiting orders from her master. Lord Dalek Vitorre owned her. The woman clenched her teeth together, tightening her jaw. He governed what she thought.
However, he would never truly own her. The woman had an unbreakable spirit She was able to take everything that Vitorre placed upon her, internalize it, and grow more powerful from it. Because she understood the ways of the Sith, she knew that her master would not own her forever.
Dalek was a human, pretending to call himself Sith. How the weakling rose through the ranks to Lord was beyond her.
Sighing, she turned back towards the figures in the room.
Vitorre stared coldly at the hooded figure before him, a true blooded Sith. She had heard her master refer to the other man as Vaene. Vaene, Vitorre's apprentice, was everything that Dalek hoped to be. He was younger and slimmer than the human. His dark robes hung off the lean, muscular form of the man. Part of his ebony hair was pulled back and clasped by a slender, raven ribbon. Hatred raged deep within his dark, sanguine orbs.
Because she was adept at remaining unseen by the most perceptive people, the woman knew that this apprentice had hated the man as well and had been plotting his demise for some time. She did not know the reason for his aversion to his master. It could be something as simply as hating every living being on Dromund Kaas. Yet, she was sure that there was something more to it than that. Vaene seemed more complex than to let his base anger guide him.
"I've gotten a message from Korriban," Lord Vitorre said flatly. He sat behind a desk, staring down at the smooth, metallic surface. Refusing to meet Vaene's gaze, he stared at a datapad. It was a newly requisition datapad from one of his adversaries. The beige machine flickered in the dim light of his estate. Stretching across his pale, veracious complexion, a snarl graced his lips.
As she picked up the various slender bottles, which once held some form of alcohol, from the table in the center of the room, she listened intently to the conversation between Vitorre and his apprentice. She surveyed the words of her master as a miner would glean knowledge from minerals. After all, it was smart to know what the future held for her.
"It seems one of the overseers has taken an interest in you, Vaene," Dalek sneered. As the shadows grew longer, the ivory hair circling his head shimmered. Wisps of hair tried to cover the top of his head. Like the many ambitions of the man, the hair failed miserably in its task. His eyes sparkled with malice as he continued to stare at the information in his hands. "I don't know why. There's nothing extraordinary about you."
"Yes, my lord," Vaene muttered.
Lifting her gaze from the table, she found herself looking into his eyes. The flames of possession roared in his fiery, crystalline depths. His lips turned up into a brief smile. Vaene usually did not take joy in anything. He trained intensively, awaiting the day when he would confront her master.
It did not surprise her that he was looking at her. Most always did. To most of Dalek's apprentices, she was something exotic. Her bloodline was diluted enough to make her resemble a human. Her luscious black hair covered the slightly raised ridges above her eyes. Unlike most of Vitorre's slaves, Cyras was the only pure-blooded Sith.
With that fact, it would have been natural for Vaene to be drawn to her. He was the type of Sith that did not want his bloodline diluted. She knew he would not have any other woman unless she could prove her lineage. While she did not understand why her family was kept in servitude, she knew her ancient ancestors would prove her way out from underneath Dalek's thumb. It would take a fool not to realize that this apprentice would turn to her when he wanted to have children. She was everything but a fool.
In regards to him, she had a different thought. The woman knew that she would never be expected to have children. She did not want brats running after her. Plus, she did not want a swollen figure. However, as with life, sacrifices had to be made. If securing herself as his mate would hasten his destruction of Lord Vitorre and ensure her freedom, it was something that she had to do.
She sensed a darkness growing in Dalek's apprentice. To be removed from Lord Vitorre's services, she would have to approach Vaene and tempt him. The young woman knew exactly what her assets would be in attracting the apprentice as a mate (and bending him to her own will). It was a matter of subtlety and subterfuge.
"I'll be glad to be rid of you," Dalek went on. His thick fingers gripped the datapad ruthlessly, wrapping around the squared, metallic edges. Rage pulsed off of him. He smiled thinly, his sadism in full display. "You'll probably be devoured by some beast or murdered by another student. Korriban is an unforgiving world. Most end up dead one way or another."
Korriban, she thought. She would lose her only hope of escaping this fat excuse of a Sith to that harsh planet. While she did not think that the virile man standing before her would perish there, she knew that it was unlikely he would return to the jungle world. Also, she was plagued with the thoughts about how Lord Vitorre survived the planet. Surely, he could never hope to live up to the potential that the other pure-blood demonstrated.
"Your shuttle leaves the day after tomorrow. See that you're on it."
As she picked up the tray with the empty glasses, she departed into the hallway. She felt the hatred surge within her again. Two days, she thought, and she would either be stuck catering to Dalek's every whim or become the mate of a man she had never spoken to before. Still, the option of remaining in Lord Vitorre's care was the worse of two evils. She could neither face a reality that would keep her in servitude, nor could she be reduced to witnessing Dalek's pathetic potential anymore. Soon would be the time for action, she determined. The long plotted seduction of Lord Dalek Vitorre's apprentice would need to become a reality, immediately.