This story is FINISHED! I'll be posting the chapters once every two days or so. There's ten chapters in all, so I hope everyone enjoys. Definite NSFW warning in future chapters though, because this absolutely delves into smut. It's basically Plot with a Side of Delicious Porn.

Please take the time to read and review; I'd love to hear what you think of this story. It's my first time writing Star Wars, and while I know this is a niche pairing (Bane/Zannah), I couldn't get this plot bunny out of my head.

Thank you so much in advance and have fun!

Chapter One: Novus

"Kriffing hells," Zannah murmured to herself as she collapsed atop one of the empty crates in the cargo hold. One more empty box meant a weeks' worth of rations gone. Within another week they'd need to make landfall in order to restock, and the task would, inevitably, fall unto her to carry out.

Between herself and her Master it was no small wonder that they were burning through their supplies so quickly; Bane's recovery was a long and slow process, and after the first few days hooked up to the bacta pump he had awoken with an appetite as voracious and desperate as a man starved.

Zannah, who had simply been relieved to see him up and about, had denied her Master nothing and hadn't even bothered to warn him that their stores were beginning to run a bit thin. Even with the additions of Cabel's dried meats and fruits supplementing their meal packs, there was only so much they could carry aboard the Loranda.

With the dawn of each new day and after every meal she took stock of their dwindling provisions, keeping careful count of meats, fruits, vegetables and the dried packs that were best left as a last resort.

Bane's appetite had been sated that first day and they had, together, tempered their meals into more sustainable portions by drawing on the power of the dark side. Doing so allowed them both to restore their energy levels and subsist off the power that coursed through their bodies, but Zannah knew it was no long-term solution; nothing was a fair substitute for the nutrition and fulfillment of real food.

Sitting on the edge of another empty storage bin, acutely aware of the thin pangs of hunger that had begun to thread their way through her stomach, and determined to make up for lost time, Zannah decided that there was no other choice—they were going to have to find a planet and land, preferably before they were forced to dig into the flash-dried meal packs.

Her Master would approve, she knew, if she were to simply inform him of what she planned to do. Bane was many things, but impractical was not one of them. He still had access to his vast wealth accumulated over the course of the last ten years as well, so credits were not an obstacle. She'd be able to procure as much food as the two of them needed to last for however long until he decided upon a more permanent destination.

He'd said nothing to her about it and she knew better than to pester him while he was so entrenched in discovering the secrets of his newest holocron.

Frankly, she was relieved for the distraction, for it meant that Bane could allow his body the rest it needed in order to fully recuperate from the effects of the dying orbalisks. Sometimes she'd check in on him and see him sitting on the floor, a respirator mask over his nose and mouth as he used the Force to tap into Belia Darzu's secrets.

The first few days he had insisted on going naked, the newness of his reborn skin still too tender to withstand the confines of the clothing they had on hand. She could only imagine the pain he had gone through and couldn't find reason to argue, despite the chill that permeated the cabin.

As long as her Master had his studies, she knew he would not be bothered by anything else.

Except, perhaps, the lack of food.

Zannah bit her bottom lip and jiggled her leg so that the heel of her boot bounced against the floor in quick secession of taptaptap.

According to the ship's navigation computer the nearest Type I planet was in the shallow reaches of the Outer Rim, along one of the established trade routes. Ciutric IV, she remembered from when she had last checked, nearly three hours ago. Its position along the trade route was fortuitous; it meant they'd have as much luck finding a wide variety of food types as they would on any other civilized planet, but without the impedance of cost.

Ambria had been somewhat limited; the further off the sanctioned trade route a planet sat, the higher its import tax, and the price gouging was unbelievable by the time various goods hit the markets. Even with Bane's near limitless credits, she had been loath to buy anything consumable that cost so much.

Ciutric was their best bet.

Mind made up, Zannah pushed herself back to her feet and slid out of the cargo hold and into the main cabin that she shared with her Master. He was, predictably, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sans shirt, eyes closed in meditation as the holocron levitated before him, pieces clicking and spinning out of place as he used the Force to peel apart its mysteries.

The holographic form of the Gatekeeper flickered into view and the tinny voice of a recording began to play, introducing this newest level of training Bane had unlocked. She could only just see his eyes as they opened, bright slits of gold and red as he smirked in muted delight of his latest achievement.

Truthfully, she could have stood in the doorway and watched him forever, a silent, unseen observer to the machinations of a great Dark Lord. Never had she known someone so prone to near-death experiences overcoming them in such spectacular fashion.

Despite the still pinkish, raw quality of his skin, Bane looked every bit as imposing and impenetrable as he had the first day she had met him. He was all height and muscles, power crafted beneath discolored skin affected by the toxins prevalent in the caves of Apatros. Every inch of him, every glorious inch, exuded dark side energies as if he were a catalyst waiting to explode.

Zannah felt the urge to move closer, to attempt to drink from the cup that overflowed with power and promise, but she rooted herself against the entryway and continued to watch.

Her Master was powerful—beyond her understanding, to the point where she had been forced to redefine her expectations of the word in light of recent events. His command of the Force was extraordinary, his understanding of its depths more than Zannah could possibly handle in her present state. They way he had moved during their last battle, the carve of his red lightsaber through their foes' defenses, the power and precision—the recklessness, she amended—with which he orchestrated their end still fresh on the forefront of her mind.

Even wounded and dying there had been power in his strong frame, thrumming just beneath charred skin and seized muscles.

She couldn't explain it, but even through the haze of panic setting in as she had thought all hope to be lost, there had been a small part of her that had rejected the notion of Bane as anything less than immortal.

That was a dangerous line of thought, she knew. As a child she had been prone to moments of worship, all of which Bane had shut down with the sort of finality that didn't quite work on children. She had been unable to help herself; he was all she had left in the world.

He had seemed to her like a giant of myth, indomitable and immovable, powerful in ways that made her giddy but defied an explanation as to why. He raised her, ensured she had food, water, and a place to sleep, and he had trained her in the ways of the Sith with a patience that belied his stern demeanor. Of course she had worshiped him.

Now, she knew better, and understood why her childish adulation had been misplaced. Bane was but a man, adept in the ways of the dark side of the Force, more powerful than any who had come before him and lacking a certain morality that allowed him to achieve his ends...but he was still just a man.

He was fallible and he was mortal.

He had drummed that lesson into her head time and time again, wanting her to understand that just because one possessed seemingly limitless power and strength did not mean they were immune to the ravages of time and injury.

'Foolishness will get you killed,' she remembered him saying as he knelt in front of her—she had been twelve, still a child, and her hand bled from the knife she had been using to spar with. 'Do not think yourself incapable of making mistakes—in this way, your pride will lead you astray and that, my young apprentice, is how you will fail.'

'Everyone makes mistakes,' she had said, frowning at her feet and clenching her bloodied fist. 'Even you, Master?'

Bane had given her an appraising look and took her hand, uncurling her fingers from the shallow cut in the center of her palm.

'Even me,' he had said, brushing his thumb along the cut and smearing the blood. 'No one is perfect, Zannah. Do not ever think otherwise.'

'But—'

'Our actions have consequences. Every one. As soon as you accept this truth you will begin to understand the gravity of the choices you make.'

In that instance she had realized he had been referring to the orbalisks attached to his body, simultaneously feeding off of him and protecting him from harm. He had told her it was a symbiotic relationship, that the parasites spreading across his body provided him with near-impenetrable armor and helped him to focus his powers, but even then Zannah knew such power had come at great personal cost.

She tried to remind herself of all that had happened as she watched her Master with a more critical gaze, trying to discern a weakness beneath the flex of his arms and the pull of the Force surrounding him. If he was weak, he'd be of no use to her. There was still so much he had left to teach, however. She had saved him for precisely that reason, unwilling to give up on her training until she was certain she had gleamed from him every last drop of knowledge, every last secret he kept.

Satisfied that she had her emotions in check, Zannah pushed away from the doorway and took a few measured steps into the room, allowing her Force signature to unravel from the tight coil of secrecy. Bane's head snapped up instantly, his bright eyes boring holes through hers, into the back of her brain where she swore he could read her very thoughts.

"Master," she said, coming closer and kneeling before him, just half a meter shy from where the holocron floated; better to keep it as a barrier between them, she thought, just in case.

"I'd like to discuss with you our next move."

Bane stared in that deep, disconcerting manner of his that set her on edge, but gave no outward sign of disapproval. Taking that as permission enough to continue, she shifted on her knees and explained the state of their storeroom.

"There's enough rations to last us another week, but if we're to continue on we'll need to restock; I've located an ideal planet not far from here where we can procure the supplies we need. On top of food we should refill the medical kit and I'd like to see about ditching the old bacta pump for a newer model. I don't think you need it anymore, but it's best to have one on hand."

Bane nodded in agreement, his gaze flickering to the doorway from which she had appeared.

"What is the name of the planet?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

"Ciutric IV. It's part of the trade route located in the Outer Rim. We'd be far from the eyes of the Jedi, beyond their reach."

"Nothing is beyond their reach, Apprentice," Bane replied, in that voice he usually reserved for when Zannah made a mistake. He leaned forward, his elbows resting heavily against his knees as he captured her eyes with his own. "Do not underestimate the Jedi. It will be your undoing."

"Pride comes before the fall," she whispered, reciting one of his many lessons. The edge of his mouth twitched, as good as a smile, and he dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand.

"See to the landing," he ordered. "Make way for the nearest city that looks promising and alert me before you leave the ship. I will handle the credits."

"Yes, Master," Zannah said, bending at the waist until her forehead touched the cool steel of the deck beneath her. Pushing off, she gracefully rose to her feet and left the room as silently as she had arrived, with the barest swish her soft cloak as it brushed the back of her legs.