My brain continues to pump out stories for Ald. (I'm still working on the next arc of NSP, don't kill me.) The first few chunks of story will be cross-posts from the Short Fic thread with a bit of order added and more details.

 

Here's what Ald looks like: http://i.imgur.com/Wm8KC.jpg

 

Military gear and all.

 

I hope you all enjoy!

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Cross-post with bits added to the end.

 

EDIT: Posted them out of order... Good job, Fino.

 

 

I Need a Pair of Pants

A Decent Pair of Pants!

 

 

Ald was beyond happy being bestowed a new crew member who was tastefully attractive without being a giant blue pile of sarcasm. It wasn’t that he hated Vette, but she was poor company for an up and coming Sith Lord such as himself. The officer, however, was perfect. Unquestioning, loyal, and he had a nice bum. Ald wondered briefly if he should dress as an Imperial officer to show off his bum. The thought followed him to the bridge where he was briefly greeted by said officer’s bum before the stiff man turned around and slipped into parade rest.

 

“My Lord, there is something I wish to discuss with you,” Malavai Quinn announced as the aforementioned Lord entered the bridge.

 

“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, as well, Captain,” Ald said kindly.

 

“After you, my Lord.”

 

“I prefer to be called Ald.”

 

“Out of the question, my Lord,” the Captain replied stiffly and quickly.

 

“If it makes you feel better,” Ald murmured as he shifted and crossed his arms, “you can call me Lord Ald.”

 

“The furthest I will go is Lord Aldrdinar. It is proper and shows respect.”

 

“You’re not even saying it right. It’s All-dir-dee-narh.”

 

“Your file says it is pronounced All-der-de-narh.”

 

“I know how to pronounce my own name!” Ald huffed.

 

“Even Darth Baras pronounces it the way the file says,” the Captain replied stiffly.

 

“I pronounce it differently.”

 

“You can’t just change how your name is pronounced whenever you feel like it.”

 

“I’m Sith, I do what I want.”

 

“You’re confusing.”

 

“Are you arguing with me, Captain?”

 

The Captain started and shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord.”

 

“Good. Now, what did you wish to discuss?”

 

“I need to requisition new pants, my Lord. These are a bit tight in personal areas,” the Captain said stiffly.

 

“Do I need to sign something?”

 

The Captain produced a datapad from his magic uniform pockets and handed it to Ald. With a few taps and a beep, Quinn’s new pants were on their way.

 

“Thank you for attending to this matter, my Lord,” the Captain said gratefully. He gave Ald a small bow then moved to turn back to his duties.

 

“Anything for you, Captain,” Ald said quietly as he left the bridge.

 

The Captain’s ear twitched as he picked up his Lord’s last words to him before his departure. He was definitely different from the other Sith Lords he had served. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

 

When the Captain’s pants arrived, Ald was sure to check on him to ensure his new pants were a comfortable fit.

 

“How are the new pants suiting you, Captain?” Ald asked curiously.

 

“Very well, my Lord. It’s amazing what a few extra millimeters can do for a man,” the Captain replied conversationally.

 

“Tell me about it,” Ald murmured forlornly.

 

“Well, I can move a damn sight better without fear of my bits being squished or fear of my pants ripping to shreds at a crucial moment in time. During an assassination, for example.”

 

Ald hadn’t been expecting a serious answer. He spat out a laugh that quickly evolved into a fit of the giggles. So hard was he laughing at Quinn’s obtuse response tears sprang to his eyes. The Captain stared a bit uncomfortably as Ald cried tears of laughter. He shifted his weight a few times while he waited for the Sith Lord to regain his composure.

 

Ald sniffed and wiped his eyes. “You’re a riot, Quinn,” Ald said, laughter still in his voice.

 

He patted the confused Captain on the shoulder and chuckled to himself all the way to the ship’s kitchen area. Quinn stared after him in confusion. Aldrdinar was a strange one. He would have to include a variable for the random silly the Sith Lord could find in everyday conversations. Perhaps it would save his life some day.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Here's what Ald looks like: Military gear and all.I hope you all enjoy!

Hello hotness

Hello hotness

 

Hello yourself.

...I gotta stop with the meta text... I'm running out of color options.

Playing Dress-up

 

 

“This is a horrible plan, my Lord. I see numerous flaws,” the Captain said stiffly.

 

“I quite obviously have my lightsabers on my belt, Captain,” replied Ald.

 

“Yes, but people look at clothing first, not weaponry. It’s a mistake that has cost a great many lives on both sides of the coin. I beg you to reconsider.”

 

Ald simply chuckled and shook his head at the Captain. He had managed to convince the stiff man to switch outfits for the day as they were very nearly the same build. Ald had checked his bum in the mirror and was quite satisfied with how the Imperial uniform perked his bum just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to drive a wedge between the cheeks. He hated cinched unders.

 

The Captain, with the uniformed Ald in tow, made his way to the Nexus Room Cantina for what would likely prove to be a trying evening at best. As soon as they walked through the door, Quinn put the hood on the robes he had borrowed up. He really did not want to be recorded posing as a Sith Lord. It would get dicey. Well, he would get diced. With lightsabers. He shuddered faintly at the thought. Ald, on the other hand, reveled in the attention he was receiving. It was rare for a Force-blind Pureblood to live in the Empire, let alone rise to the station of Captain in the Imperial Navy. Those taking a closer look noticed his lightsabers right away. Those in-tune with the Force noticed his strength in it before he stepped into the room. The various stages of horror, interest, and boredom on the faces of those staring at the pair made Ald slightly giddy. Ald’s face broke into a silly grin as he stepped further into the Cantina and straight to an empty table. Murmurings of impropriety followed in their wake, but Ald paid them no mind and Quinn was too busy being uncomfortable in a crowded room to notice.

 

“I am not a social creature,” the Captain said stiffly as he sat down.

 

“I can tell. You need to get out more. Live a little,” Ald said with a lopsided grin.

 

“I live plenty, my Lo – Ald.”

 

Ald’s grin turned to pure teeth. “You learn fast.”

 

“You don’t survive in the Empire by being a dunce. Stupidity serves no other purpose than to weed out the weak.”

 

“You’re so Imperial,” Ald chuckled.

 

Quinn arched a brow he was sure went unseen due to him hiding his face as best he could under the hood.

 

“I have no response other than to state the obvious, Ald,” Quinn said stiffly. “And I damn sure don’t like calling you by your nickname. One I’m entirely sure you made up just to upset me.”

 

“No,” Ald laughed quietly, “I’ve had this nickname for a number of years.”

 

Their conversation was interrupted by an awfully hands on woman. Her boldness in pinching the bum of the Captain turned Sith signaled her reliance in her charm and her handle on the Force. Quinn turned an even paler shade of pale.

 

“Hello, my Lord,” the woman purred.

 

“Hello,” Quinn murmured uncomfortably.

 

“Not a big talker?”

 

“Lord Praecursator prefers action over words,” Ald supplied helpfully.

 

“Quiet, Imperial,” the woman snapped.

 

Ald frowned. The woman wasn’t hard on the eyes: tall, well dressed, brunette, green eyes, fair skin. But it was obvious to any Force sensitive that she was no Sith Lord.

 

“Don’t be rude,” Quinn admonished smoothly. “You never know just who you are insulting.”

 

“He’s an officer, it doesn’t matter,” the woman said off-handedly.

 

Quinn bristled then rose from his seat and stared down his nose at the woman.

 

“Never insult the Imperials who serve. They do so out of a sense of duty to the Empire,” he hissed. “And never forget that a Sith can be killed by a mere Imperial. It may save your pitiful life someday.”

 

His point made, he brushed past her and strode for the exit. Ald strangled back a laugh, waved to the confused woman, and ran after the quickly moving Quinn. When Ald finally caught up to Quinn, he grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around.

 

“That was amazing!” Ald said with a grin.

 

“Yes,” Quinn murmured quietly, “it truly was.”

 

“We’re doing this again next week.”

 

“As you wish, Ald,” Quinn said with a small grin and a polite bow.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Cross-post with combinations and edits.

 

Abandoned to Thrive

 

 

Ald had always been a bit strange. He was born to what appeared to be a pair of normal humans. His parents had obviously been expecting a normal human child of similar skin tone, eye color, hair color. A child of their own. What they got instead was a strangely orange infant with orange eyes. A pureblood in name only as he was obviously not a true Sith Pureblood. His parents took him home to raise him as their own until his sensitivity made it too dangerous to continue. So they left him. They took him to the jungles of Dromund Kaas, told him to go hide and they would come find him, and they left. They left him to thrive or die. And he thrived.

 

Yozusk. Sleen. Vine cat. All food. All meat and protein. All hard as hell to kill without a well-placed cliff fall. Once the beast of choice was downed he had five minutes to gather as much as he could into his poorly constructed animal leather pouch before the predators of the jungle came for their share. He used the vines and overgrowth clinging to the cliff to climb back up. It had taken him a while to master this skill. After his first near death experience with hungry predators sensing an easy meal, he worked on it like the Sith he was.

 

He made it back to the cave he had recently claimed as his own. His old one was on the way to being discovered, but it made little difference. None of these places were home and none of them ever would be. It didn’t matter. Being left alone in the jungles didn’t matter as long as it made him stronger. He knew that much. Sith were strong. Only the weak died, the strong survived and conquered all obstacles. Failure was not an option.

 

He started a small fire far enough outside the cave to vent the smoke, but under enough cover to keep the flame burning strong in spite of the rain. Tonight, he would eat. Tomorrow, he would hunt down the Imperials who were sure to find his old cave and kill them. They wouldn’t send another patrol for a while after and the Brute of the Jungle would be allowed to hunt and thrive in relative peace.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Cross-post with combinations and edits.

 

From Brute to Apprentice

 

 

Some years later, he was picked up by Imperial officers. “Brute of the Jungle” they called him. He didn’t care what they called him. True, he looked a bit wild with his tattered shorts and shoulder length black hair, but he was mostly harmless with the Force dampening cuffs around his wrists. All was well until they reached Kaas City proper. “You’ll be a slave,” they said. “Harkun has been looking for another group of slaves to kill.” The young teen simply grinned, grabbed the nearest officer’s vibroknife, and killed any stupid enough to try to stop his escape. As he ran away covered in blood and rain, the remaining officers sprayed his back with blaster fire. He kept running and no one stopped him. Blinded by pain and rain and tears, the young teen slammed into the black robes of a Sith. The few brave souls who had gathered to watch the boy’s escape shuddered in unison. The boy was as good as dead. The Sith he had collided with stared down his nose at the boy, but otherwise made no move to reprimand him.

 

The officers who had opened fire were now running up on the boy. He felt them. He felt their anger and their fear. He wobbled to his feet, gave the Sith Lord a short bow then ran around him, continuing his escape. He made it a short distance before blood loss and hunger caught up to him. He collapsed, panting and full of rage waiting for the next shower of bullets to end his miserable life. None came. He heard the sound of heavy feet approaching him then saw the armored boots of the Sith Lord he had run into. No wonder they didn’t come for him. He was as good as dead already. A vice closed around his throat and he was lifted into the air. The Sith Lord brought him to face level and stared at him with a strange fascination. In that moment, the young teen gathered his hate, his fear, his loneliness, the pain of hunger and blaster fire into his hands and brought the vibroknife to life. The Sith Lord continued to watch as life blinked out of the boy. To his surprise, the boy brought the knife to his own face and began carving a pattern on his skin. The pain from his self-inflicted wounds was enough to give him a burst of energy strong enough to break the choke hold the Sith Lord had on him. He fell to the ground in a heap, coughing and sputtering for all he was worth.

 

“What’s your name, boy?” the towering Sith Lord asked.

 

“I no longer have one,” the young teen answered.

 

“You are a pureblood, but you have no name?”

 

“I was abandoned in the jungles by my parents. I abandoned my name years ago, my Lord.”

 

The Sith Lord chuckled quietly. “You know enough to have manners.” The Sith Lord paused then made a decision. “Very well. From this day forward, you will be known as Aldrdinar, apprentice to Lord Inusitus.”

 

The newly renamed Aldrdinar nodded weakly before his body gave out and he fell the short distance to the wet duracrete below.

 

 

Ald was never sure if Dromund Kaas actually had seasons. There were months of cooler temperatures, warmer temperatures, less rainfall, more rainfall, and a general comfortable time that found a balance between rain and warmth. They seemed to move in a pattern, but nothing that screamed “seasonal.”

 

The first two years of his new life were fraught with fear and misery and woe and death. He wanted nothing to do with this place. He wanted to go home. He wanted his bed. He wanted his toys. He wanted the parents who used to love him. The parents who used to read to him at night or sit by his bed after a strange dream or a moving shadow scared the daylights out of him. Or the nightlights, as it were. But he knew, he knew somewhere in his six year old mind that there was no going back. “The Jedi send their kids off to train at age six,” he remembered his father saying in hushed tones. That’s when he knew something strange was going on. They thought he couldn’t hear him, but the Force thrummed in his ears when his curiosity got the better of him. When his parents took him on a day trip to Dromund Kaas, he felt their apprehension and something else. Was it relief? He remembers the jungles being a bit chilly that day; what passed for Winter on the capital planet.

 

By eight, he knew the patrol schedule and encampment placements by memory alone. He was always on the move, there was no time and no resource at his disposal to make a permanent map. He’d learned that the hard way when Imperials managed to track him down via his poorly crafted map on animal leather. They were kind enough to leave him for dead. They were dead fools when he was through with them. Spring brought warmer weather and new life. And the Brute of the Jungle was born.

 

When the humidity became unbearable during the day, he knew it was Summer. By ten, he had tracked down enough material to create a mask to dampen its effects on his ability to breathe and be active during the day. He hunted, he killed, he stole, he lived. The Brute’s legend grew. Whisperings of tales told to naughty children reached his ears and he was delighted. He’d force the last Imperial lying in his own blood to tell him the story. He promised he would let them live if they would just tell him a story. And his legend grew by leaps and bounds. He did this for several years before the stories became too boring to sate his curiosity. And the Summer heat blazed across the jungles, led by the Brute of the Jungle and his child-like amusement.

 

When Fall came, he prepared for Winter. The winters were never harsh, but years in the jungle had taught him to be prepared for anything. And when his fall came, it was to his backside in Kaas City proper at age fourteen. He had collided with a Sith Lord. For him, Fall blossomed new life instead of signaling the death of life. And he fell from the title Brute of the Jungle to the rise to the title of Aldrdinar, Sith Apprentice to Lord Inusitus.

 

As he prepared his Winter quarters for the fight ahead, he couldn’t help, but bubble with happiness. He was finally wanted for his power. He would rise. It was the Sith way.

 

 

The first time he held a lightsaber in his hands he knew he was truly a Sith. Power thrummed from his hands, into the hilt, through the crystal, and into a blood red blade that hummed as he sliced at the air. He was mesmerized by the glow of the blade, entranced by its siren song, and emboldened by the power it represented. He could strike fear into many without striking any. This was power. This was glory. This was the means to an end and to a beginning.

 

Lord Inusitus indulged Ald his whimsies for the first few months. The young lad would often run off into the night and into the jungle for a few days. It was home to him. He pined for it. When it came time to focus, however, Lord Inusitus would find ways to keep him from the jungles. Ald’s frustration would grow and grow until it became anger. Anger begets rage. Rage begets power. Power begets strength. Strength begets victory. Through victory, the chains of the jungle were broken. The Force had cleared the jungle brush and led him to his current path. The Force had freed him while also keeping him captive to its whims. He enjoyed every minute of a power greater than himself forcing him forward.

 

He was a tool of the Force as much as the Force was a tool for him. And he loved it.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Cross-post with a big chunk added after.

Conference Table Shenanigans

 

 

Quinn sought an audience with Ald late in the day when he was sure Vette and Pierce would be too busy drinking and shooting targets in the Cargo Bay to bother to eavesdrop. Still, he put a white noise emitter on the door just in case.

 

When he turned to Ald, the Sith Lord grinned lopsidedly at him. He was always at ease around him. It put him on edge.

 

“My Lord, some time ago you expressed an interest in furthering our… relationship,” Quinn said stiffly.

 

“Yes and, if I recall correctly, you thought it ‘improper’,” Ald replied.

 

“I have had time to think on it, my Lord.”

 

“And?” Ald asked, arching a brow.

 

Quinn shifted his weight from foot to foot.

 

“I have always preferred the company of women.” Quinn frowned when Ald’s face dropped. “That is not to say that I haven’t enjoyed the company of men as well.”

 

“What are you trying to say, Captain?” Ald asked a tad impatiently.

 

“I’m trying to say the only barriers between us are our respective ranks, but, if you are will to overlook such matters, I believe we can find a suitable arrangement.”

 

Ald answered him with a kiss filled with repressed desire. He pressed his body to Quinn’s with great urgency and moved him until his back was pressed against the door. Quinn’s repression, however, was far stronger and forced the pair from the door to the conference table to previously unexplored heights. The table would never be the same again.

 

 

The crew had gathered in the conference room for a short meeting when Vette noticed the damage to the conference table.

 

“What the hell happened to the conference table?” Vette asked.

 

A faint blush dusted Ald’s rust orange cheeks, but Quinn continued his briefing as if nothing happened.

 

“Seriously, there are dents all over it!” Vette piped. She traced three gouges in the surface with her nails. “There are scratches in the surface! They match up with my fingernails!”

 

“Are you trying to tell us something, Vette?” Quinn asked smoothly.

 

Vette turned her attention back to him. The holoprojector cast blue shadows along the contours of his face, highlighting his cool, blank face and the ferocity in his blue eyes.

 

“Was someone tortured on the conference table?” Vette asked.

 

“No,” Quinn replied stiffly.

 

“Then what the hell happened to it? It looks like its seen some things.”

 

Ald face palmed next to her while Pierce chuckled across the table.

 

“I don’t have time to examine every detail of the conference table,” Quinn said stiffly, “especially during a mission briefing. Kindly turn your attentions back to the matter at hand and be silent.”

 

Vette squinted at Quinn for a moment before huffing and crossing her arms. Quinn continued his briefing, but Vette’s attentions had now shifted to Ald. Ald had turned his attentions back to the Captain, a blush still faint on his cheeks. The gears in her mind turned and turned, her lekku twitching as she put the pieces together: Ald’s blushing, Quinn’s weird blue gaze of doom, and the dents on the conference table.

 

“You two had sex on the table!” Vette squeaked.

 

Ald sputtered, Pierce gaped, and Quinn slammed his hand down on the table.

 

“Vette!” Quinn snapped. “This is neither the time nor the place for your twisted fantasies. Kindly keep them to yourself.”

 

“Twisted?” Ald asked quietly.

 

Quinn straightened his back and glanced at Ald from the corner of his eye. “Not the time, my Lord. Allow me to finish the briefing. Please.”

 

“Was there something weird about it?”

 

“My Lord, this is not the time,” Quinn answered stiffly.

 

“I need popcorn for this,” Vette muttered to herself.

 

“I’d settle for an ale,” Pierce mumbled.

 

“Was it not satisfactory?” Ald asked.

 

Quinn ran a hand down his face then pinched the bridge of his nose. “My Lord, I am trying to conduct a briefing here. I can sooth your ego later.”

 

“I thought it was good,” Ald mumbled sadly.

 

Quinn fought the urge to slam his head into the nearest hard object and render himself unconscious.

 

“My Lord,” Quinn said stiffly, “we can talk about this later. In private.”

 

“On the conference table?” Ald asked hopefully.

 

“At the conference table,” Quinn insisted.

 

Ald slouched in his seat and pouted. Quinn put a hand over his eyes and continued where he left off with his mission briefing. Emperor dammit.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

I can't stop giggling. "I thought it was good." Oh man, lol.

"Was it not satisfactory?"

 

Make me giggle why don't you?

I can't stop giggling. "I thought it was good." Oh man, lol.

Heeheee. I love Ald.

 

"Was it not satisfactory?"

 

Make me giggle why don't you?

Heeheee. Ald is so paranoid about his skills. It's endearing.

 

 

Thanks for reading everyone!

Smooshed together cross-posts.

Game Night!

 

 

“No, not there, my Lord. You would never break through the defenses in time,” Quinn lectured. He shifted his finger along the map and pressed insistently at one point in particular.

 

Ald leaned in. “I don’t see it,” he mumbled quietly. He grabbed his piece and shifted it, leaving his fingers to linger.

 

“Of course you don’t see it,” Quinn said stiffly. He grabbed Ald’s hand and pushed the piece back to its starting position. “You’re lucky you didn’t let go of the piece, this game would have been over in two moves. Move here instead.” He moved Ald’s hand, along with the piece, to the spot he had pointed to earlier.

 

“Why would you assist your enemy in heated battle?” Ald asked cheekily.

 

“You are not my enemy, my Lord,” Quinn replied quietly. He let his fingers linger a moment longer before shifting back and moving his chosen piece. “Besides, brutally beating a novice is no fun at all.”

 

Ald laughed and was happy to see the Captain grin if only for the briefest moments.

 

“Now,” Quinn said, slipping back into teaching mode, “you have three options. I will describe each one and let you pick.”

 

While Ald focused on his options, Quinn focused on Ald. It was a powerful thing, that. The way he looked when he was deep in thought. The crease of his brow when he was being serious. The way his eyes devoured everything around him, searching the remains for information. Always scanning, always on alert, always on. He was a force of military precision. And he never realized the effect he had on people.

 

Quinn shifted his gaze back to the map. He was fortunate Ald was so focused on the board he didn’t notice the Captain’s intense gaze. Ald would have teased him into submission. And he would likely submit quickly at the faintest noise from Ald’s mouth. Ald’s voice was smooth and light, like foam over caf. It commanded attention while still being a delight to listen to.

 

“Captain?” Ald asked gently.

 

Quinn snapped from his thoughts and raised his eyes to meet Ald’s.

 

“It’s your move.”

 

Quinn nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. It was a powerful thing, that. The way Ald stared at him, yet never through him. The way his voice caressed his ears. Quinn moved his piece with a shaky hand and it did not go unnoticed.

 

 

“We should hang him to dry,” Pierce grumbled angrily.

 

“I say we pump him full of bolts and send him out the airlock,” Vette said lightly.

 

“No one is doing anything,” Ald rumbled.

 

“He’s obviously a mad dog that needs to be put down,” Pierce argued.

 

“We’re not shooting a man because he beat me at a game of Space Risk,” Ald sighed, running a hand down his face.

 

“He cheated!” Vette cried.

 

“I am a tactical genius with twenty years of active field duty,” Quinn said stiffly. “Please, tell me how I cheated at a game of military tactics.”

 

“I saw you move a piece out of turn!”

 

“I bumped the table.”

 

“Lies!” Vette cried dramatically. “Next game, Pierce and I get to help Ald. We’ll crush you.”

 

“I accept the terms of your inevitable defeat.”

 

“Let’s make this interesting,” said Pierce. “If we win, you let up on the stiffness for a week.”

 

“Very well,” Quinn said stiffly. “However, if I win, you two have to dress in Imperial greys for a week straight.”

 

“Deal!” Pierce and Vette said in unison.

 

Ald buried his face in his hands. Quinn really had bumped the table.

 

One thorough thrashing later...

 

“Best two out of three!” Vette muttered unhappily. She really didn’t want to wear an Imperial uniform for a week.

 

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Quinn said lightly.

 

“Oh, come on, that was a fluke! There’s no way you beat the three of us!”

 

“There is a way and I just showed you, but, if you’d like, I can show you another way.”

 

“Same terms?”

 

“Increase the time on both sides to two weeks.”

 

“Deal!” Vette and Pierce cried in unison.

 

Ald shook his head and fought the urge to slam it into the table several times. They were gluttons for punishment if he ever saw a pair.

 

 

The Wrathful Hologram

 

It was one of the few times any of those gathered had seen him angry. He was always in control of his emotions. He could manipulate them as much as they manipulated him. He bundled his hatred around him as a shield. He hid his tender core from prying eyes. He shoved it all down until it was time to strike and strike he did.

 

“My Lord, this is the easiest setting on the training program,” Quinn said in disbelief.

 

“I’m still learning,” Ald muttered.

 

“The hologram opponent is openly mocking you at this point.”

 

“It cheats,” Ald pouted.

 

“It’s a program!”

 

The hologram grinned evilly. Try maneuver him into a corner, hah! Silly Sith.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

As It Should Have Been

 

 

“I told you, my Lord. Relationships between subordinates and superiors always end poorly.”

 

It was the last thing he said to him before leaving. Ald had forgiven him outright, dismissed his betrayal as mere confusion. In truth, he had known what he was doing was wrong, but his pride would not allow him to fail a mission, any mission, no matter the target. He knew things would never be the same. How could they? He had destroyed unit cohesion, taken Ald’s faith in him and slit its throat. He was an opportunist and a fool. He threw it all away for his pride, his foolhardy pride. It was done. It was over. Time to move on. So he left. He packed his things and ran with his tail tucked between his legs and head bowed in shame.

 

He saluted Ald one last time and turned to leave.

 

“I never lost faith in you, Captain,” Ald said quietly. Quinn halted his quick, measured steps, but did not turn around. “When you’re done punishing yourself, let me know. I’ll be waiting.”

 

Quinn turned to one side and opened his mouth to speak. His thoughts left him and his voice failed. He simply nodded and turned, heading for the nearest ranking officer for assignment.

 

Ald let him go. He had to have faith that Quinn would come to his senses and, at the very least, return to the ship for duty. But faith was hard to maintain as the weeks passed with nary a word. Messages went unanswered, inquiries returned stated “He’s alive” and nothing else. It tore at him. As Ald and his remaining crew fought through Corellia, the change in the Sith was obvious to all around him. He was numb. He didn’t play games, he didn’t joke, he didn’t smile. He killed without caring who unless someone managed to talk him out of wanton slaughter. He barely spoke or ate. He didn’t care.

 

Ald’s new empty state called to Vette. Its siren song persistent and unyielding, she took a leap. Ald deserved better than Quinn. He deserved better than a knife in the back. He deserved better than misplaced affections. He deserved better. She presented herself as better and he took the bait. It was hard drawing him out from his depression, but she was persistent. She tugged and pulled and twisted until she found the right combination and unlocked the tender Ald within.

 

When they finally settled their business on Corellia, they hopped into the Fury and sped toward Korriban. It was time to end this. Time to kill the fat bastard trying to take over the Empire. Time to kill the fat bastard who had taken the one man – the one man he could truly be himself around – away from him.

 

Ald and crew approached the entrance to the Dark Council chamber. Lord Rathari and Overseer Tremel greeted Ald with reserved excitement. A third man stayed against the wall, hidden by shadow until Ald moved to walk past him.

 

“My Lord,” the man said quietly.

 

Ald froze. The man stepped from the shadows will all the dramatic flair he could muster.

 

“Captain?” Ald asked, arching a brow.

 

He nodded and bowed deeply.

 

“Come to enjoy the show?” Vette asked, a hard edge in her voice.

 

Quinn flicked his eyes to her briefly then turned his attentions back to Ald.

 

“Should you need medical attention after your victory, I am here.”

 

“Welcome back, Captain,” Ald said evenly.

 

“My Lord,” Quinn replied, bowing deeply once more.

 

Ald stepped into the Council Chamber and grinned. The fat bastard was already posturing. The Wrath, the False Voice, the Council chambers, all a stage for the final act. Ald would play his part and Baras would play his. To the death.

 

Pierce, Jaesa, Vette, and Broonmark waited on the sidelines far away from the clashing sabers and Force techniques the two men in the center of the room threw at one another. Vette looked over at Quinn and scowled. How had he known when Ald was coming? Why had he bothered showing up? He would get in the way of things. Things were as they should be. Ald was hers and he was happy. The Captain wasn’t needed nor was he wanted. She would chase him off.

 

Quinn felt Vette’s stare, her eyes boring holes into the side of his face. He sensed the shift in the air when she made her way to his side. He didn’t move. He focused his eyes on the battle in front of him. Baras was losing ground. Ald was pulling on the Force with only half his strength. He was toying with Baras. He needed to end this, quickly, before Baras caught on. A deafening roar interrupted his thoughts. He covered his ears out of reflex, though the damage was already done. Too late. He was vaguely aware of Vette cursing and clutching at the cone-shaped protrusions she called ears.

 

“Freakin’ hell!” Vette grumbled.

 

Quinn shook his head in an attempt to shake the ringing out. It didn’t work, but it didn’t matter, he only needed his eyes to follow this fight. He slipped into parade rest and watched.

 

Vette shook her head, her lekku shaking as she did. Now was as good a time as any.

 

“Hey, just so you know, Ald and I are married now,” Vette said conversationally.

 

Quinn glanced at her sideways.

 

“Yep,” she said happily, “had the official Twi’lek ceremony and everything.”

 

“Ah,” said Quinn. He turned his attention back to the fight. Baras was nearly down, it would be just a few moments now.

 

“So, yep, we’re married. Ald doesn’t need you anymore.”

 

Quinn grinned, but stayed silent.

 

“What’s so funny?” Vette asked testily.

 

“It’s funny that you think a Twi’lek ceremony has any credence in the Empire,” Quinn said smoothly.

 

Vette bristled. “It’s valid.”

 

“Perhaps on Ryloth, but not here.”

 

“It was Ald’s choice.”

 

“I’m sure it was.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vetted asked. She turned to him and crossed her arms.

 

“You’re a schemer, Vette, but you aren’t subtle. You were infatuated with the man before I joined the crew. You continued to try to gain his attentions, his affection, even when it was clear he had no interest in you. Whatever you believe you have with him now is a falsehood he created to deal with a difficult situation,” Quinn said patiently. He turned his head to her and grinned. “It’s as valid as your Twi’lek marriage ceremony to the Empire. That is to say, it isn’t valid at all.” He turned his head back to the fight in time to see Ald slice Baras’ head from his shoulders. It was done.

 

The Council seemed to breathe a sigh of relief all at once. The fat, manipulative bastard was dead and their office party nibbles would finally last longer than five minutes.

 

The Council stood as one and bowed to the new Emperor’s Wrath. Ald smirked and wished Lord Inusitus had lived long enough to see this day. He turned to the small group lining the wall and watched as they all bowed in turn. His eyes focused on the Captain and frowned. Quinn’s small Force signature was fluctuating wildly. He was distressed and in pain. His face gave away nothing, of course. That was expected. The pain echoing in Ald’s ears was not. Instead of speaking, he gestured for the crew to return to the ship. Quinn hesitated briefly then followed the rest out of the chamber. Ald caught up to Quinn and tugged his arm. The stiff man fell into step beside Ald.

 

“Vette says the two of you have wed,” Quinn said quietly.

 

“I was… lonely,” Ald replied. “Besides, it was just a Twi’lek ceremony. Nothing on paper.”

 

“That’s cold, my Lord,” Quinn admonished quietly. Then he grinned and said, “I like it.”

 

Ald shook his head and sighed. “I allowed it to regain my grip on the Force. Even I had noticed the monster I was becoming. I needed balance. She offered balance. The ceremony was simply to placate her.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“No, you don’t,” Ald said quietly. “Vette is my friend. When you left, she offered to fill the void. I wanted that. I needed that. But I used her and our friendship will never recover from this. You have cost me many things in a short time, Malavai.” Quinn flinched visibly. “You are welcome to rejoin the crew, but you and I? We are superior and subordinate.”

 

“As it should be,” Quinn murmured.

 

“Yes,” Ald agreed firmly, “as it should have always been.”

 

Quinn paused momentarily to fall in-line behind Ald. They were not equals. They could not walk side by side. All was as it should be. All it should have been.

 

 

Notes:

 

 

 

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Damn it Fino D:< Why'd you go and do that?

Damn it Fino D:< Why'd you go and do that?

 

Because I'm evil.

Rest and Time

 

 

“Should you need medical attention after your victory, I am here.” It was a vote of confidence from a man who had sided with the enemy. It was also an invitation.

 

When Ald entered the medical bay, Quinn was busy taking stock of the supplies, rearranging little things, ordering this and that. He made the bay his own again, his own little organized area of medical expertise and knowledge. Though Jaesa was the one who spent the most time here, he was the one who used the facilities the most.

 

Ald cleared his throat when Quinn had no reaction to his entrance into the medic’s domain.

 

“Hello, my Lord,” Quinn said without turning around. “Choose a bed and sit down. I will tend to you in a moment.”

 

Ald knew better than to try to distract Quinn when he was inventorying things. The man grew downright insane when bothered in the middle of the process. Ald sat on the bed closest to the cabinets and waited silently. Quinn continued his inventory for ten minutes more before double checking his list then sending the order through. He turned to Ald with a blank face.

 

“What can I do for you, my Lord?” he asked, his voice measured and even.

 

“My fight with Baras resulted in quite a few injuries. I want to ensure my insides aren’t bleeding without my knowledge,” Ald replied. “My armor managed to block the brunt of Baras’ attacks, but the man was more about blunt trauma than active severing of limbs and slicing of flesh.”

 

“Ah, yes. Baras’ fighting style is less than subtle.” Quinn moved to Ald’s bedside and pulled out a scanner. “For a man with such an extensive spy network and the ability to blackmail and manipulate people in subtle ways, he fought like a bull nerf rutting.”

 

“Why did you betray me?” Ald asked in a rush.

 

Quinn froze for a moment then shook his head. “I didn’t want to, my Lord. It felt… wrong. I knew it was wrong.”

 

“You went through with it anyway,” Ald said tonelessly.

 

“Yes, I did,” Quinn said quietly.

 

“Tell me why.”

 

“My Lord, I never failed a mission under any circumstances. My chances for victory were manageable. Had I failed and died, that would be the only failure on my record, if it had made its way on to my record to begin with,” Quinn explained stiffly.

 

“This wasn’t personal, then?”

 

“No, my Lord, this was a matter of pride.”

 

Ald didn’t reply for a moment. Quinn was looking at him with that blank face of his, but his eyes could not hide the emotions roiling under the surface. Or the pain he was in.

 

“What does the scan say?” asked Ald.

 

Quinn blinked then answered, “All clear, my Lord. No internal bleeding, a few bumps, a lot of bruising, and a few cracked bones. Nothing that won’t heal with rest and time.”

 

“All things can heal with rest and time,” Ald said quietly. “Right, Captain?”

 

“As you say, my Lord,” Quinn agreed.

 

Ald hopped from the bed and nodded politely. Quinn bowed and waited for Ald to leave before he closed the door to the medbay. The hiss of the door sliding shut hid the hiss of pain he sucked through his teeth. He grabbed his side and clenched the fabric of his uniform top. He gritted his teeth and sucked in uneven breaths; he needed air, any air. He turned and stumbled toward the cabinets. He reached without looking and pulled out an injector. He stabbed the offending side and waited for the medicine to take effect. He braced his palms against the counter and focused on regulating his breathing. When the pain was a dull ache, he left the medical bay and returned to quarters. He needed rest. All things could heal with rest.

 

And time.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

At first I was a bit surprised, but then it made sense. Ald is a survivor. He'd use whatever was available to him to keep going. Poor Vette

Poor Vette

 

He might be a nice Sith, but he's still Sith.

He might be a nice Sith, but he's still Sith.

Very much so. Crap, yeah, I still like him, lol. It's all the unexpected bits and pieces. Complicated, intriguing man.

At first I was a bit surprised, but then it made sense. Ald is a survivor. He'd use whatever was available to him to keep going. Poor Vette

Ald is very much so a survivor. It's second nature to him. When faced with a problem, he uses the tools he's given and, unfortunately, Vette was a tool to be used. On the flip side, he at least feels bad about using her to his own ends. Most Sith wouldn't care.

 

He might be a nice Sith, but he's still Sith.

Indeed.

 

Very much so. Crap, yeah, I still like him, lol. It's all the unexpected bits and pieces. Complicated, intriguing man.

I'm glad he's intriguing. I daresay he's my most complex character (original or otherwise) to date! I'm rather excited. It feels like I'm growing as a writer.

 

Thanks for reading everyone!

An Open Wound

 

 

Ald had him pinned, his back flat against the wall. Ald would not let him go. One hand pinned a shoulder to the wall, the other held his hips in place.

 

“You’re hurting me, my Lord,” Quinn said unsteadily.

 

“Good,” Ald said quietly.

 

Quinn twisted and tried to remove the pressure. He felt a wall of heaviness slam into him and hold him steady against the wall.

 

“Stop fighting me, Captain.”

 

He swallowed roughly. “You’re agitating it.”

 

“Tell me what it is and I’ll let you go.”

 

“It is obviously an injury,” the Captain replied stiffly. “Please let me go now.”

 

Ald dug his fingers into Quinn’s side and elicited a shuddering shout from the man.

 

“My Lord,” Quinn exhaled shakily, “you’re hurting me. Please stop.”

 

Ald didn’t acknowledge Quinn’s plea. He dug his fingers into the wound until the Captain was gasping and sobbing for him to stop. He released him and let the man slide down the wall to the floor.

 

“Do you enjoy pain, Captain?” Ald asked, staring down at Quinn.

 

“Not – not particularly,” Quinn replied quietly. He held his side with a limp hand. Pain lapped at every nerve like a cat drinking milk.

 

“Then why do you hide things from me?”

 

“I’m not hiding anything.”

 

“Stop lying to me,” Ald hissed through clenched teeth.

 

“I’m not lying.”

 

Ald bared his teeth and crouched in front of Quinn. His hand shot out and grabbed the wound. Quinn gasped and fought to move away, but Ald’s hand was unyielding.

 

“Then what is this?” Ald asked calmly.

 

Quinn whimpered and wiggled. “It’s a wound, my Lord. We’ve – ah – we’ve been over this.”

 

Ald dug his fingers deeper into the wound.

 

“My Lord, please,” Quinn sobbed pathetically. “You’re hurting me. Please, please, please stop. I can’t…”

 

“You can’t what?” Ald asked calmly. He dug his fingers deeper into Quinn’s wound.

 

Quinn’s eyelids fluttered then slipped shut. Ald relinquished his hold on the man then rocked backward onto his bottom. Quinn didn’t react and didn’t move outside of breathing.

 

Ald ran a hand down his face and sighed. He was angry. He was livid. He was hurt. He was scared. He was worried. He knew his information gathering required tact, but faced with a reluctant and stiff Quinn he snapped. They had been so close before. At least, he thought they had been close. He ran a shaking hand down his face. This wasn’t the path back to being close. This was the path to shoving him away. He’d wait. He’d wait here on the floor until Quinn regained consciousness and try this again. Perhaps a little less hands on this time around.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

Tell Me a Story

 

 

When Quinn finally regained consciousness, Ald was there still sitting on the floor. He jumped and immediately regretted the sudden movement. He sucked in a hiss between clenched teeth and clutched at his side. He was surprised that Ald had stayed. He was also surprised that Ald had attacked him in such a manner. Ald was right, he was unstable when the Captain was involved. Perhaps he should have stayed away, but Jaesa, innocent and worried Jaesa begged him to come back to Ald. Things were falling apart on the ship. He was needed. Wanted.

 

“Malavai?” Ald hedged quietly.

 

“Captain,” Quinn reminded Ald.

 

“Right, Captain.” Ald shifted on the floor and spread out his legs. Blood rushed painfully back into the limbs. “How long have you had this wound?”

 

“Years, my Lord.”

 

“How is that possible? I have seen you naked plenty of times to notice something as large and… unhealing as this.”

 

“To be fair, my Lord, I usually had you worked into such a state that your mind was definitely focused on other things,” Quinn quipped quietly.

 

Ald chuckled softly. “Yes, you were rather good at that.”

 

“Still am.”

 

Ald frowned. “Because of earlier?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I wasn’t myself.”

 

“I know, my Lord,” Quinn murmured softly. “As for the wound, I have had it a number of years. I fell victim to a biological weapon during my exile on Balmorra. The pain comes and goes and the flesh is easily replaced.”

 

“There is no cure?”

 

“Honestly, I haven’t had the time to look into it. It only flares up every eight months or so. The pain lasts for a few weeks at most, a day at the least. It’s nothing to concern yourself with. I can tend to my duties as normal.”

 

“I’m surprised I missed something so obvious,” Ald murmured.

 

“It wasn’t meant to be noticed by anyone, my Lord and it went unnoticed for many years by those around me,” Quinn said evenly.

 

“Do you remember when you first joined my crew?” Ald asked suddenly.

 

Quinn smiled wistfully and nodded. “Yes. It was the greatest day of my life.”

 

“Don’t exaggerate,” Ald chided playfully.

 

“I’m not. At the very lowest level, my career was reignited. I was finally allowed a promotion after ten years. Ten years of fighting Broysc’s influence. He destroyed my career, my power base, and he stripped me to the lowest rank possible. Had you not come along…”

 

“But it was all a plan.”

 

“Part of it, yes. I did not realize I would be promoted. Twice, even. Despite the circumstances you… reignited hope within me.”

 

Ald smiled. “So, I reignited your hopes and dreams, eh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Tell me more. I’ve never had time to sit and listen to you.”

 

“Alright, then,” Quinn agreed.

 

Ald smiled then stood. He missed this. He watched Quinn struggle for a brief moment before pulling the man to his feet with a gentle yank. Quinn nodded gratefully. Ald turned and left the medbay for the galley seating, a silent and obedient Quinn following close behind. As soon as they sat, Quinn started talking. Ald listened and enjoyed the stories and the voice of the speaker.

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino

An interesting development... I'm curious to see where this will go.

 

Also,

Ald listened and enjoyed the stories and the voice of the speaker.

...yeah, I'm with Ald on that last.

An interesting development... I'm curious to see where this will go.

 

Also,

Ald listened and enjoyed the stories and the voice of the speaker.

...yeah, I'm with Ald on that last.

 

 

It will go all the places! Also, yes, I'm with Ald and you on listening to Quinn's voice. That man could read a phonebook and I would listen intently. Dat voice.

Moffing the Moff

 

 

Tales of Quinn’s childhood were uninteresting, at least, according to him, but Ald encouraged him to tell him the stories anyway. Stories of a normal childhood with parents and a house and love. Still the stories were far from unusual. Quinn was a genius and musical prodigy. His favorite instrument to play being the KeyBed. “It’s classy,” he told Ald. Ald agreed if only to hear more of what Quinn liked to do in his free time, if he even took free time. Stiff bas – wrong train of thought. Quinn skipped a few years of academy training and fieldwork and focused on his dealings with Moff Broysc. Ald was nodding along until he heard Quinn say something utterly unexpected.

 

“Wait, repeat that,” Ald demanded quietly.

 

“Socors and I were involved in a relationship of sorts,” Quinn repeated dutifully.

 

“You nailed Broysc!?”

 

“Don’t be crass,” Quinn chastised.

 

“You had an intimate relationship with Brosyc!?” Ald asked incredulously.

 

Quinn sighed quietly and said, “Yes. Which was why, when the time came and I disobeyed his order, it was more than a summary court martial. It was personal. Very, very personal. He felt betrayed, though my actions won the battle. He took the credit and that was fine. Then the bitter bastard stripped me of my rank, Admiral if you’re curious, exiled me to Balmorra, and left me to rot there.”

 

Ald blinked a few times then chuckled at a memory. Quinn cocked a curious eyebrow.

 

“It makes your nickname of Admiral Malcontent more sensical,” Ald chuckled.

 

“Yes,” Quinn murmured. “He used to call me ‘Mal.’ I never much cared for the nickname, but I allowed it. He usually wasn’t able to say much else while I had my way with him.”

 

Ald shuddered.

 

“Apologies,” Quinn murmured.

 

“He was awfully… old.”

 

“Yes, he was, but he was a Moff. Behind closed doors, I was the one in power. It was… thrilling, to say the least. I very much so enjoyed the power play.”

 

“Is that why you’re always…?” Ald trailed off quietly.

 

“For the most part, yes. I’ve never actually experienced a role reversal in the bedroom,” said Quinn.

 

“Really? No one has ever –”

 

“No,” Quinn said quickly.

 

“Ever consider changing that?” Ald asked innocently.

 

Quinn immediately shook his head. He had considered it at one point, but there was no reason to think about it now. Not with the way things were between himself and Aldrdinar. It was just as well. Things needed to solidify before they tried that path again. If they tried that path again. Quinn let loose a small sigh then continued his stories, mindful of Ald’s intense gaze. He had a feeling he hadn’t heard the last of that.

 

 

Notes:

 

 

Edited January 13, 2013 by irishfino