Thump, thump, thump, thump, her heart was pumping her blood too quickly, there were black spots in her vision, panic threatened to overwhelm, and fear was all around her. No matter how well she had mastered her cloaking technique; her fear would give her away. Her normal serene white grey eyes were a deep red, as she allowed the dark side to feed her more power. Her pale white skin was mottled with purple veins and bruise like splotches, marks of her power. Yet, still, with the dark side as her ally, she had not been able to best him, the boy she had bested a millions times before, the boy who had professed to love her, to the point of obsession. Her manipulations had been near perfect and yet, here she was.

“Do you finally fear me, my darling?” Marek’s voice rang out in the dark corridors, he could sense her, she was close, he had been with her long enough to know to not search for her with his eyes. He still wore his formal suite, and he knew she still wore her evening gown, and that she did not have her lightsaber. He spit on the ground, insulted, that she would think him so toothless, so weak. Ever since his mother’s warning he had kept his sabers with him, and now with his grandfather’s blessings, his grandfather the Emperor, her disappearing act was no longer a ruse that would fool him.

Rateah, cursed herself, her complacency, her arrogance, and the impossible heels and slinky gown. She wore it to keep him under her thumb, to flare his lusts, to distract and control, up until today she had been able to play Marek Eldrazzi like a well oiled Ratattaki war drum. She peered around the corner, filling her hidden hand with crackling force energy, it wasn't her strength, but it was the only weapon she had. Through her cloak her eyes met Marek’s, and though they were a warm golden hue, there was only calculated cruelty to be found. He gave her a twisted smile before igniting his sabers and slowly striding towards her.

“Come to me, traitor!” He rasped, spinning his offhand saber in lazy circles.

Rateah pulled the energy that was holding her cloak and added it to the now brightly crackling force energy she had gathered in her left hand.

“From where I stand, I only see one traitor, and it isn’t me.” She released her energy in an arch of lightning.

Marek caught the attack easily with his main hand saber, and flung the attack back to its creator. It caught Rateah full on, coursing through her, electrifying her cells, and burning her flesh in a instant. When she gasped for breath she was lifted into the air in a force choke. Her panic swelled again, but she kept her face as impassive as she could, she would not give him the satisfaction. He was strong. Stronger then she had ever seen him.

“Me? You call me a traitor? I am chosen by the Emperor himself, you stupid slave, through his power and grace, the spell you cast with your forked tongue is broken. I see you for what you are, through my mother’s visions we have seen you betray us, and such treachery will not be permitted.” He strode up to her, placing his hand around her neck, where before only the force had been holding her. “Though, it seems a shame to damage something so lovely.” His saber went out and he gently brushed her arm, and undid the clasp that held her dress on, it slid down her body and pooled in a sliver puddle below her feet. He moved the gown carefully away from her shivering naked white form. “There, better.” His saber came back to life, and without preamble he started carving her torso.

Teah screamed, she screamed the same panicked and feral scream as when her face had been branded, when she ran away all those years ago. Big black stars burst in her eyes, her arms and legs kicked and clawed and convulsed until his grisly work was done. She only knew it was done when her body hit cold duracreet, and she could finally smell her burning flesh. Covering her entire chest was the symbol used for traitors, usually branded into their faces much like slaves are branded, hers covered her from neck to pelvis. She rolled, tried to get away but her body rebelled, and she only managed to squirm away a few inches before Marek pulled her into his arms. His body was warm and hard, her damage skin bloomed new pain as they were pressed into the expensive suit, his hand gently pets her face and head, and for a moment he was the Marek she had always known. Her lips struggled to speak, to say something, to keep him from killing her, to say anything that might save her life. Instead he kissed her, his lips burning a hole in her soul, his energy squeezing her until she was suffocating, she didn't feel the saber ignite against her chest, all she knew was that she couldn't breathe, and she clawed with all her might at his jacket while he kissed her, and killed her. Her world went black.

*

Rateah floated, she was in the small hut where she had been born, a hut made of skins, inside a larger cave system on Rattatak. She was born into her world, white and bloody and screaming as all children are. Her parents warriors to a minor warlord, they tattooed her, marking her as one of their clan in her first month of life as was tradition, she survived and was deemed strong, when the scars healed she was named. Short years later she was orphaned in a minor territory dispute and the toddler had hidden away on a mercenary’s ship. Found by a passing Jedi, wearing rags and eating a rat, black tattoos and rodent blood dripping down her chin. She was wild, and strong, and angry. The Jedi took pity on her, sensing her force ability even then.

“Vitals are weak my Lord, if we move her she will die.”

“The Eldrazzi clan are a special kind of butcher aren't they? Can you stabilize her Talos?”

“I’ll try.”

The sun on Tython was too bright, the sky too blue, the grass too green, the Jedi, too kind. She fought, and bit and clawed against their kindness, she didn't want the blood wiped from her face, or the scars stitched up when she fell out of the trees. They could not calm her rage, and it was only when she found another kindred soul that she found purpose. It was only then that she learned love, and she hated the Jedi fiercely for telling her not to get attached.

“I’ve done what I can. Carefully Khem, try not to jostle her.” It was a timid and kind voice, she was immediately suspicious.

Rateah’s eyes flew open in the arms of an imposing Dashade, staring up into a face of teeth and malevolence, her arms flailed, and she clawed and whimpered and tried to speak, but could not find her voice. Fight, she must fight, she must always fight. The beast growled at her, and Rateah bared her teeth in return.

“Hah! Sith still has some fight in her!” Another deep voice chuckled out of her vision.

“You’re not helping Revel.” A voice of command and power.

“Rateah, calm, he won’t eat you. Not unless I want him too, and right now I want you very much alive, my dear shadow.” The commanding voice came from a human, it was rich and warm, almost motherly. She had deep brown eyes and dark chestnut hair done up in an elaborate style. Her face held three rows of branding scars, the markings of a slave, just as she had. Her robes were rich, Rateah knew who this was, it was her job to know who this was, but her memory failed her, and the instinct to fight and claw and run was still too strong. The rich slave gently touched her arm, and Rateah flinched, and then tried to push away from the Deshade again. “Calm, you’ll damage yourself. Talos, can you give her something?” Concern, kindness, it wasn't to be trusted.

“She already has twice the dose for her size. Stop….. please, the kolto stripes are coming off…. stop trying to hit me! Khem, please hold her.”

“Where…where?” It was the only word Rateah could say before she fell into blessed oblivion.

Jonas Balkar looked over the reports, and the lone, damning recording, and then looked back up at the screen in front of him. The image was of a prisoner, further inside the center, with a bag over their head, arms and legs bound, in a small glaringly brightly lit room, sensory deprivation. Jonas lifted himself out of the uncomfortable metal chair and squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself, someone else could have done this, someone better trained in interrogation, he never truly had the stomach for it. He took a final gulp of the now tepid coffee, gathered the evidence he had, and started walking towards the cell.

*

One week prior

“They’ve just taken their operation to a different penal colony.”

“Sons of Hutts. So Belsavis, I thought we put that senator away?”

“Apparently he wasn’t the only one with an interest in the project. They let him take the fall, then quietly moved it to a smaller, and quieter location.”

“Only this time, they have a shiny new toy to play with, they’ve been injecting them with something, and the prisoners are displaying signs of Force ability.”

Mitka moved around her quarters on the ship, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip. Her hair had grown out in the year they had been married, and was now tied in a neat pony tail, bangs caressing her copper eyebrow ridges and cheeks. She met her husband’s blazing emerald eyes.

“They could have always been Force sensitive. We don’t know.” Life had carried on as normal after her and Aric had agreed to join the Star Cabal, they had carried out countless missions for the Republic, and when they did poke or prod a little deeper, the Republic, was, for the most part, keeping their noses clean, if you didn’t count the usual political corruption and wheeling and dealing. Then this report.

“Which is why we should go and check it out don’t you think?” Aric gave her a smile that never reached his intense green eyes.

*

“Sit her up please.” His voice carried through the nothingness that had been forced onto her. She shut her eyes bracing for the light she knew would be flooding her vision. She had lost all sense of time, but in all of this she knew what they were doing, the awareness that she was going through a torture tactic and that she had trained for this gave her a measure of comfort.

She was shoved inelegantly onto a hard metal chair, and the hood covering her face yanked back, the guard pulling out a fistful of hair while he did so. Mitka didn’t wince. She slowly blinked against the harsh lights as her shackles were adjusted to the table that was bolted to the floor. They weren’t taking any chances with her.

“Hey Jonas, long time.” Her voice was quiet and hoarse, having not been used much in the past three days, it felt strange on her tongue.

“Major Jorgan.” He waited until she was secured then waived the guard away. “Mitka, what were you doing there?”

“Heard Ison has some amazing seafood, thought I’d go see if the rumors were true.” She gave her one time friend a malevolent smile, she pushed thoughts of Aric to the back of her mind. She didn't know if he got out, she didn't know if he was dead. Mitka had to believe he got out, had to or she would fall apart, she relied on her training, just as Aric would. She wouldn't bend.

“And were they true? The rumors?” Balkars eyed her wearily, dark circles under his normally mischievous sky blue eyes.

“Oh yeah, best seafood I ever had, the SIS shouldn’t keep that kind of culinary mastery a secret. Should let the whole Galaxy know, make Ison a nice tourist destination.” She couldn’t keep the sneer out of her voice.

Jonas pushed the holo recorder towards her and pressed play, a miniature version of Aric appeared in front of her, it was of the day they were caught, he was grabbing a vile, then planted explosives on the rest. The image panned towards her, and the tail end of a conversation, the recording was riddles with static.

“Got a sample…destroyed the rest….all subjects rejected….dead. Going to take out the lab…send samples to the Doctor.”

Balkar paused the recording. “Doctor who?”

Mitka smiled at him and held her silence.

“How did you find out about the Ison labs?”

Mitka kept smiling and shook her head.

“What’s your interest in the research being done there?”

“I was just there for the fish.”

“Dammit Mitka. I don’t want to hurt you, why were you and Aric there?” Jonas looked as if he had just been slapped in the face, genuine hurt on his face.

“Jonas, why are you here? Why are you doing this to yourself?” Mitka said, true concern in her voice, he was a field agent, he hated the dirt and grime that went along with interrogation, he had told her this much years ago.

“Cause I thought I could protect you, I don’t want to see you hurt Mit.” He was pleading with her, and for a moment she could hear Jaxo’s desperate screams before the explosion. He hadn't mention Aric, Mitka’s mind was racing past the emotion, either he hadn't mentioned him purposely, or they hadn't caught him.

“Well that’s good, cause I don’t particularly want to get hurt, but that’s not how this is going to go is it Jonas? Funny how the SIS and Republic government seems to be above the laws they themselves write.” As soon as the words left her lips, an interrogation droid entered the white cell.

Balkar stood up and entered his code into the droid, then walked to the door, “I’ll see you in a few hours, please Mitka, think about the answers to those questions.” He tore his eyes away from her accusing face and gave the droid its command. He walked back down the corridor away from his friends cell before he could hear her start to scream.

Kianna sat on the floor of the modest cottage near the outskirts of the temple grounds. Such private accommodations were afforded to only the highest ranking Jedi. Barsen’ thor of the Jedi order qualified for this right. Between the former padawan and master twaddled a chubby toddler, squealing with laughter as the two older women levitated a small tinkling bell between them, a foundling, with some force sensitivity, perhaps one day a future Jedi.

Kianna felt warmth that she had not felt since she was a child, Elliah had that effect on those around her. She was easy to love, her being radiated the light, and for a while, the uncertainty of the last few years washed away. Elliah tried to spend as much one on one time with all the babies and smallest children of the nursery. Affection, love and tenderness in the formative years generally produced more stable children and adults, that was the official reason, and science backed her, but mostly Elliah couldn’t get enough of baby cuddles, tiny feet, and the unmistakable scent of a newborn. Regardless of species they all smelled like fresh powder and sunshine.

“You’re in love aren’t you? With the Sith.” Elliah asked casually, eyebrow raised under her patterned silk eye wrappings.

Kianna dropped the bell in front of the toddler with a crash, startling the tiny Twi’lek, who immediately scooped it up and began ringing it to his heart’s content. The sound that filled the cottage echoed her own heart and mind.

“How….did you know?” Kianna didn’t lie, Master Elliah would see through it.

“It’s plain to see, you’re emotions are bubbling out all over you, like a pot that’s boiling over, and his energy and scent cling to you.” Elliah spoke with some measure of amusement in her voice. “Not to mention I know what love looks like.” She flashed her ring finger, where she proudly wore her wedding band.

“Felix isn't a Sith.” Kianna retorted, her anxiety somewhat lessened.

“No, he’s not.” The older woman scooped the toddler up and with copious amounts of raspberries to an exposed tummy, managed to regain the bell, and fly a giggling toddler to the Padawan in the next room. She returned with two cups of hot tea.

“So what happens now, Master?” Kianna asked after a long silence as they both sipped from their cups.

“Now I tell you to end it.” Elliah leaned over grasping Kianna’s hand, squeezing it gently. “End it before anyone else finds out. I won’t betray you to the rest of the council, I know more than most what love encompasses. I sorry, Kianna.”

Kianna nodded slowly, she had expected such an answer from one of the council, but coming from Elliah, who had been granted special dispensation to marry, it was hard to be angry, or upset, or outraged, it wasn't the act of loving that was the sin, it was the Sith. It appealed to her logical thinking, it made sense to be told to end her relationship with Lord Scourge, and like a good Jedi she recognized it was her emotions that were raging and wailing. In the past year, any time she had been apart from him, she always resigned herself, to end it, to finish her healing as a Jedi, and yet, when he returned she lost all resolve.

“Don’t be, I understand, I wouldn’t expect any different.” She gave Elliah’s concerned face a weak smile, and squeezed her hand right back.

*

When Kianna returned to her ship docked on the Tython orbiting station, she was greeted by his presence, and the thought of ever being without that presence seemed absurd and cruel, yet she told herself she would try, again. She found him in front of the alter in her bedroom, deep in meditation with his lightsaber held in the air by the force. He wore nothing but a light pair of linen pants, and Kianna had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing, of course.

“Have you come to end it again?” His voice was taunting her.

“Just being a good Jedi.” Her voice was quiet, serious, this time, though she knew exactly what was going to happen.

“You’re a terrible Jedi.”

“You’re a terrible Sith.”

“I am an excellent Sith, I’m doing what is expected of me, lust, passion, these emotions are actively encouraged with the Sith.” He stood in one fluid motion, placing his saber on a nearby table.

“You no longer have a reason not to kill me, the Emperor is dead, if you’re such a good Sith, why is this Jedi still alive, I thought mercy was frowned on?” She couldn't help but smile as he stalked towards her, his appearance driving her to distraction.

“You think what I do to you is mercy? Perhaps I find you amusing, perhaps after three hundred years, my needs are great, and corrupting a Jedi with those needs is a much stronger aphrodisiac than anticipated. I've never told you to trust me.” He was close, one hand now encircling her neck, tilting her head up so their red eyes met, there was no malevolence in his demeanor, and yet his words, the truth, it was his greatest weapon with her.

“Or maybe what’s happened is that you love the Jedi.” Kianna could spout truths as well.

He crushed his lips to hers, making sure to erase all doubt from her mind, he wouldn't give her up so easily.

*

“They’ve left Tython my Lord. Trajectory Hoth.” Watcher 12 reported to the young head of Sith Intelligence.

“Prepare my ship and alert the commander on Hoth to expect me.” Marek smiled like a well fed cat, two prizes, the Jedi the Emperor had instructed him to catch, and the traitor, the former Wrath.

Yay fluff to help me get through my writers block!!