Twilight
Vaitana t'Acraya woke in the pleasant gray garden, the bluish pink hue of the lowering suns warming her face. Here and there in the menagerie were bursts of color, pale orange Vulcan desert lilies, red-gold, twin headed ael flowers, which periodically sprayed their colorful spores into the air, and other plants she couldn't name, purple and gold and blue, and changed in little ways since her previous visit.
As evening fell, the gentle blue of sunset deepened into violet, and the winter's damp, chill winds began to tease at the back of her neck.
She looked to the half dozen or so largest buildings on the Acraya estate; they had lights in every window. As she fixed her eyes on the flickering luminescent flares, she imagined she saw small faces of children there. She imagined she saw herself there.
No, she had not been a child for years. That was a good thing. She gazed at one particular window, called up a memory. A scrawny, scowling child stared back at her, her wine colored hair matted and unkempt, dark eyes too large for her face, and otherwise remarkable only for the depths of hatred seething within them.
Vaitana lifted her eyes to the vision, and said "You will not have to hate much longer, matters will work themselves through."
The child turned her back, disappearing into the recesses of Vaitana's own mind.
"Yes," came a quiet voice, "I am sure that everything will turn out right."
Vaitana whirled towards the sound. She had spoken aloud without meaning to, and more unmeant angry words stood ready to spill from her lips.
"I apologize for disturbing you," he said, and he sounded so, "I have come in search of news. There are many rumors surrounding the death of my friend, Nevek tr'Acraya. I was hoping one of his family might tell me the truth."
"You call him your friend? You know he is considered a traitor."
The shadowy figure nodded once, and removed the hood of his cloak. His bright green eyes and wavy reddish hair spoke of mixed blood, though she couldn't tell the exact mixture. His other facial features looked entirely Romulan, if a bit smooth. He smiled, and a tiny crop of wrinkles broke out in the corners of his eyes.
She smiled back at him, though the quirk of her mouth didn't reach her eyes.
"Come to my villa," she said, "Keep me company, and I may tell you of Nevek."
The stranger had the grace to look surprised. It wasn't often that a Romulan head of house invited an obvious hybrid into her private villa, and even less often that a Vaek'Riov of the Tal Shiar did the same. Yet she, Vaitana t'Acraya, was both of these.
"Come," she said, and strode through the gardens, pulling her cloak tightly about her.
Her personal villa lacked the almost cheery warmth of the other buildings. An ice palace carved in stone, no lights shone from its empty windows. Nevek had lived here with her also, and longer ago, his twin brother Nevar. And before them, their father Nentar, and many before him.
It looked its years. New coats of paint covered the cracks and creases which came with age, but the architecture was unmistakably ancient, a style one would find in half dead monuments on their distant mother planet, Vulcan. History spoke of S'Task himself dying in the building.
The other structures grew up around the villa, in time. It possessed an old soul; she could almost sense life emanating from its presence.
The stranger stopped to stare, as if somehow he knew it as more than a simple house. Or perhaps he was frightened of being alone in the villa with the head of the Acraya house for company. Surely, he'd heard the stories about the merciless, sadistic Acraya torturers.
Then, the stranger had known Nevek. Nevek was too gentle at times, or he had been...
Tears stung Vaitana's eyes as she grasped the door handle. She pushed the door open inward over the threshold.
The stranger's complexion drained further of color as he saw the foyer, without light it truly did look frightening, a place of shadows adorned with seductively shapen decorations of the past. A quick wind caught the emerald green chimes hung on the roof, they vibrated with echoey, child laughter.
"Lights," Vaitana said. The rooms lit at once, dispelling the gloom. She walked into the foyer, waited for the stranger to join her. She shut the door as he did.
"This way," she said. She led him into a sitting room. It had little furniture in it, a chair or two by an antique fireplace. But the walls, the ceiling, every inch hung with paintings and drawings, all passionate and most painted on the theme of conflict.
Vaitana sat in one of the chairs. She leaned over the grate to start a fire in the fireplace. In moments, crackling orange flames spilled over the coals, the scent adding a smoky element to the faint wisps of spice, incense, and musty odors already mixed together.
"Is that Nevek?" the stranger asked, his eyes flickering over a portrait, a large one hung over the fireplace.
Vaitana followed his gaze. Three figures gazed at her from the picture, young, immortalized together. "Yes, that is Nevek, his twin brother Nevar, and myself."
The stranger's eyes passed over each figure. "I ah, don't know how to say this, but I think they're looking at me."
"Perhaps Nevek's, how do the Vulcans say, Katra, is inside of that painting. The day we had it painted was, we thought at the time, the best day of our lives. We were wrong I believe."
"Nevek told me a few things about himself," said the stranger, "He told me that he loved you and Nevar, and that you used to get in all sorts of trouble as kids. He said you three nearly destroyed the Acraya temple single handedly."
Vaitana grinned at the memory. "Children of our house are known for being mischievous. My brothers and I were the worst though."
Despite her smile, she felt unable to stare at the faces in the painting for another moment, not without breaking into tears or uttering curses. She left her chair, and walked to a replicator a few feet away.
"Would you like a drink?"
"Does your replicator make coffee?"
"Coffee, isn't that a Terran drink?"
"My mother was Terran. Her family are big coffee drinkers. It's in our genes."
Vaitana replicated a cup of coffee for him, and some strong, green tea for herself. She handed the coffee to the stranger, sat down again, and let the warmth from the cup seep into her hands.
"Nevek died a traitor's death," she said, "He was a Unificationist, an ally of the New Maquis. It was not I who killed him; it was another officer of the Tal Shiar. And it was his own ambition, yes, to escape his own blood.
You see, we Acrayas are not Tal Shiar because we wish to serve the Empire. We are Tal Shiar because our blood burns with that which one cannot see, or touch in the light, only in darkness. It is not tangible, but it touches each of us differently. My brother Nevar gave into it, forsaking his cleverness for sadistic pleasures. My brother Nevek withdrew from it, even denied it. And I..I believe I have accepted it, I control it. We cannot live otherwise. Do you see? My brothers' solutions destroyed them."
She realized she was rambling, and she stopped. The stranger's eyes were locked on hers, his coffee cooling in his hands. He hadn't taken a sip. Neither had she.
"I'm sorry, " the stranger said, looking away, "I'll go.."
"No. I need to report back to Tal Shiar HQ. I'll speak to Skalus, you will stay here."
The stranger drew back into his chair, his complexion palling again in obvious fear. His eyes looked to hers, then to the floor, his gaze almost pleading.
"No one will hurt you, so long as there is no reason, " said Vaitana, "If you give me a reason, you'll wish you hadn't been born."
With that, she got up from her seat, walked away from the stranger, and out the door of her villa.
The sky had turned inky black. Thousands of tiny stars glittered, obscured by the frost she exhaled. She paused a moment to glance back at her villa. Had she been too hard on the stranger? He was so obviously afraid of something..
She continued walking, until she came to the door of a larger building. The door slid aside as modern doors did.
Skalus was directly inside, discussing a matter of finance. His arresting, gravelly toned voice rose high in pitch, and lowered as he spoke. She observed him from the doorframe. He was middle aged, approaching sixty, and though many Romulans had no gray in their hair at this age, his shone with silver strands, and his one good eye glittered with passion. Both of his arms, his legs, and some of his internal organs were bioimplant replacements.
He moved fluidly despite his false parts, his grace reminded her of a hunting bird, scouring the younger Acrayas as if they were his prey. His leather eye patch and rakish haircut rendered another picture altogether, an effect she'd giggled at as a little girl. She grinned.
"Ah Vait," he said, noticing her at last, "I was just telling these good for nothing relatives of ours how lucky they are to have you as a House Head."
Her grin widened. "I'm sure you were, but I need to speak with you."
"Right. Get out, you dogs." He chased his assistants away with a wave of his hand. "Now Vait, what's the matter?"
"Skalus, I'm entertaining an unusual guest. As acting House Head in my absence, I need you to keep him comfortable, safe, and away from prying eyes."
"Unusual? Unusual how?"
"I don't need to explain how. Post a few sentries by my villa to guard it."
"Aye, of course I will do what you say."
***