Under the Widow's Gaze
The room lay bare underneath the shimmering expanse of a nebula. A feverish, bright purple danced among vibrant aquamarine strands that twisted and coaxed the stars around it. Coiling like a serpent ready to strike, these echoes of light swayed to an unknown brush. The mysterious painter kept quiescent about the true intentions of that whimsical watercolour.
A blue-skinned asari stood before the pane, her eyes steady to the dashes of smokeless cloud. The luminescent qualities of the space she knew well – one must know their environment before existing in it – but cared little for the political purpose of the room: she adored the beauty.
Her hand fell upon the translucent mirror, her palm pressing tight against the glass before easing off. The tips of her fingers slid along, tracing mindlessly a pattern of irreducible spite. He is late again, she thought with remorse. He is a Spectre, though. They have minds of their own.
Her head now moved towards the glass. Her forehead tipped so that the coolness of the screen would spread across her sweltering form. I am hot, she realized apathetically. The meetings today went longer than expected. If I knew this beforehand, I would not have worn such an ornate gown.
The gown in question bore a lush amethyst colouring. Weaving up the right leg, just beside a slit, a dark velvet circled and caressed the royal colour. This pattern glissaded to her bosom at which it twirled into tight curls, each curl branching off into a Fibonacci spiral. There held an elegance to its simplicity, the twisting curves betraying a seductive quality. Originally, the dress had no top covering the neck and décolletage. Created under a special request, the collar made the dress more modest – especially for one who spent so much time in the public eye. Felellni N'Astrasa, the creator of such elegant asari dresses, did not hesitate to meet the demands of the gown's new owner. After all, what greater endorsement could there be than having a councillor don your design?
This asari councillor, however, hated how she appeared in the dress. I am not fit to wear something as . . . bold as this. She closed her eyes, the soft beating of her heart becoming faster and faster. Felellni N'Astrasa . . . such a gorgeous name. Perfect for an asari, the most beautiful and attractive of her kind. But what title am I saddled with? Tevos.
The name seemed horrific in her head, the sound of a jagged rock compared to the babbling stream of other titles. "Tevos," she muttered under her breath. A bitterness swelled in her throat. "Tevos." A name empty and bare. "Tevos." A name so rough against her throat that scars from old callouses were felt with every breath. "Tevos." A name unfit for a lover.
Her head left the glass as a myriad of thoughts swarmed ceaselessly about her. I cannot stand this endless waiting. We had a strict time set up for this meeting and yet you arrive late again. Her right hand tightened into a fist. I can command any to do as I please. I have authority, dignity, and what does he think of it? Her tension satiated at the realization, yet her anger remained buried skin deep. He's a Spectre . . . should I expect any different? This is what I brought myself to when I first met him . . . when we—
The sharp skitter of metal upon metal sparked a flicker of promise in her mind. To appear uncaring, as was customary, she turned her head ever so slight and peeked beyond her crimson shoulder. I only need to see the arm, the voice should solidify the rest. Glancing from her meager perspective she spied broad shoulders, a grey suit, and a synthetic appendage. That takes care of the appearance; now the voice.
"You are late," she stated with an intonation she dared not associate with 'beckoning'. "Poor punctuality is not befitting of a Spectre."
"You don't need punctuality if the mission was completed," he replied, the low rumblings of his sub harmonics sending shivers up her spine. "Especially when the lateness is due to a prior commitment."
The word stung her and she knew he used it with purpose. "Commitment?"
He smirked. "A bunch of batarian slavers, they were getting far too comfortable in the Traverse."
Upon hearing the reason, Tevos cussed under her breath. Goddess. And here you thought it was another woman. Her thoughts lingered in languish until a rough hand rubbed across her clothed shoulder and she spun around to meet the Spectre face to face.
"Tevos," he purred as the robotic hand, that had been pushed away, reached for her cheek.
She felt the stinging - yet smooth - material glide across her skin and electricity flooded through her body. Her toes to the tips of her fingers felt awakened with the vibrant sensation. "Spectre Arterius," she said with as much control as she could muster. "Regardless of circumstance, you did know that we were having this meeting—"
"You make it sound like this was to be a formal gathering," he said after a terse laugh. "Everything such a rehearsal, every word carefully prepared and planned." His right hand slipped behind her neck while his left ducked beneath her taut elbow and reached for the small of her back. "You know you don't have to play politics with me, right?" His voice drew deeper, causing a low rumble to resonate from the bottom of his throat.
Tevos bit the bottom of her lip. "I am a politician, Saren. It is in our blood; it is to be expected."
She felt his metallic talons draw circles around her exposed skin, her body becoming tight in reaction to the sensation. His breath on her neck and his hand pulling her in, he whispered into her ear, "I am a Spectre, Tevos. It's in our blood, to be expected." With these words the circles stopped and his arm grabbed onto her flesh, pulling her into him.
Their lips met, tingling in the sensuality of the kiss. Saren pressed his eyes shut as his hands clawed up and down her back. Tevos, however, had her eyes open. One spying the greedy Spectre and the other at the door. Even with her attention drawn elsewhere, she started to feel urges long since passed draw up from her naval again. To think I missed this! Me, a matriarch, with a Spectre in such a . . . such a . . . But the thought became instantaneous vapour when Saren launched his tongue into her mouth, sending her senses wild.
The dark, rich metallic flavour of his mouth stung yet Tevos' body forced her not to hesitate against the assault. Even flick of his tongue, every switch of the head sent shivers around her body. She felt as if her chest could not press any tighter against his, despite all her primal desires. The armour he wore and the slick silk dress were too much between her thudding heart and his.
Her mind transfixed with ecstasy, her body begging for more, and Saren teasing with every movement of his hand; the scene transformed into the prelude to a Twentieth Century Earth vid, forbidden love and all. And she, trapped in the embrace and seduction of the moment, could not have asked for more. Yet her eyes, those gleaming jewels that caught his attention all those years ago, could not shut.
Something's wrong, she realized suddenly, as if she had woken from a dream that felt all too real. No . . . he's never like this . . . never . . . Her hands slowed their assault on his breastplate and her mind dulled her beating heart. What happened on the mission?
Saren, noticing her slowed arousal, proceeded to ease his assailment as well. Loosening his grip on her now plastered dress, he slowly opened his eyes and found her gaze meeting his. They shared that stare for what seemed like eternity as he straightened his shoulders and eased his lusting surveillance. Before pulling back, he tugged at her lower lip, sucking on it with his pointed labium before nipping it lightly. Away from his face, Tevos reflexively licked the caustic sensation, unsure whether or not the bite drew blood.
Turians are known for their marking, especially during mating rituals. Why would . . . unless . . .
"Something displeases you, Councillor?"
Councillor? His eyes darkened and his stance became more rigid and defined under her wary gaze. "What happened?" Her tone far gentler than she anticipated, Tevos cleared her throat and tried again. "Spectre Arterius." His eyes widened at the title. That got his attention. "What happened on the miss-"
"You are not the one who gave the orders," he spoke with a hint of malice. "Nothing more to be said."
Her upper lip rose and turned into a snarl. "Do not play games with me, Spectre-"
"Then what is this?"
His comment jarred her and Tevos took a step backward. Noticing this, his eyes fled to the floor and his breath dulled to a noticeable exhale. A sniper's breath; the breath of those who have killed and enjoyed it. A shiver ran up her back and this time it did not induce pleasure. She started to pant and her eyes grew it fury. "I cannot keep defending your actions, Saren!" Her shout ricocheted off the walls, bouncing around the room, threatening to pierce flesh and kill. "First you took out a whole colony on the basis of plague! Then you murdered a child because she was holding a gun!"
"I-"
"I am not finished!" Tevos' eyes betrayed nothing short of her desire to draw blood. "Then I had to cover you when you blamed that research facility's destruction on a Spectre candidate—"
"He was human. He would have betrayed us eventually. You can't trust a single one of their pathetic species—"
"And now you come in late, hiding something, as your hands run up and down my—"
He grabbed her lower back with both of his arms and thrust her close to him. "Oh? Running up and down your body? Are you some Omega whore now, Tevos? What happened to that chaste matriarch I first met who wouldn't have touched me before making sure nothing could see us in the room?" She slapped his face only to have him dig into her skin with his talons. "Now the room you choose is an old conference hall with a big window. And you claim I'm hiding my intentions!"
Any attempt at pulling herself away physically would be fruitless, yet she knew the power that had been gifted to her at birth. More importantly, she understood that Saren realized this as well. So, with his eyes sparking and his hands lowering further and further down her dress, her skin burst into an electric aqua.
Upon seeing those misty, ethereal waves of power radiating off her, his hands paused just below her waist and a curt snort broke through his pursed lips. "You planning on embracing me this quickly?" He grinned, the vices of flesh on his mind. "Here I thought you liked to go slowly, feel me work my way through those Citadel-approved layers—"
"You would not believe what I am capable of right now," she declared. "Trust me," Tevos muttered barely above a whisper. "I know every crack of weakness - every scar - on that body. I've seen more of you than your mother, Saren. Believe me, you have no idea what I could do to you."
Wrinkling his nose, Saren's demeanor lowered. His mind visibly worked through the threat, detecting whether or not the matriarch's power could deliver the promise of her potent words. I wonder if he sees me as a threat . . . I don't doubt he has considered it before when we were more . . . vulnerable. I know how his mind works. He never enters a situation without first checking to see if it could spell his end.
At last Saren seemed to make a decision and his hands softened their grip and pulled away from her body. Taking a few steps away from him, Tevos felt the burn of his talons still on her back. Unsure whether or not blood had been drawn – though she highly doubted it had been – she did realize that his glare had an edge sharper than his metallic talons.
"First you are late and then you propose to take advantage of me?" Tevos' words were traced with venom. "I would call this an act of betrayal, would you not?"
Growling, Saren whipped his head away from her and strut a few paces towards the right wall. Every part of him stiff and powerful, a great beast that the Hierarchy had trained and honed by birth – only to be inducted into a more demanding servitude. And I am antagonizing him, Tevos thought with regret buried deep in her consciousness. Before this she had planned for a beautiful evening, one that she wanted to never forget. The dress, though against her initial displeasure, became a symbol of something new rekindled inside of her. A rejuvenation with a turian that . . . that had broken her shell like only one other soul. She would never have told him these thoughts, even if the evening had not turned so sour.
"I can't tell you," he said after a lengthy pause. His head poised upward and his shoulders held back. "Even if I could, I would not allow any to jeopardize this . . . gift . . . especially you."
Tevos cocked her head, her eyes shifting around the turian's form. "You found something in the Traverse?" He nodded. "While on mission?" Again, another nod. Tevos felt anger boil inside her throat while longing tore at her loins. "Why?" she asked in a tone that felt too much like begging.
"The run on the batarian slavers proved a perfect cover for what I truly desired. When Councillor Sparatus demanded that area cleared I knew the spirits had given me this opportunity out of divine right." He turned his gaze to her, the darkness that once clouded the edge of his eyes recessing. "Cloak and dagger techniques, yes, but necessary ones. You of all people should know that."
Tevos thrashed her head away, not wanting to meet his eye. I know what I did to get this position, Saren. Goddess, I even told you so that you might help clear my guilt. Her sight began to waver and grow misty. I, the youngest asari councillor, and you, the youngest turian Spectre inducted. Why does the goddess torment us with such twisted fate?
"Did you not believe that what you did was right? I believed the asari who told me the old councillor needed to leave. I trusted her every word. But does that asari trust her own reason now?"
"Of course I do!" Tevos seethed, her eyes now firm and direct. "I would die with my belief!"
"Then you know my pain!" Saren asserted, his body now before her. "You understand this necessity. Accept my reasoning now . . . like I did for you."
Tevos, torn between the duty she swore to serve and the turian she grew to adore, could not see past the foggy ambiguity. "There . . . there is too much I do not know . . ."
"Like me, when you first told me your tale," he explained.
Her breath elongated and grew in pace. "I do not know the extent of your desire. Does it involve me? The Council? Goddess, the galaxy?" His pause proved her correct. "And yet you tell me to accept this change without seeing it before me? How could I do that?"
"I accepted you before I knew you, didn't I?" She froze, paralyzed by a memory so poignant and strong that it shocked her to the core. "Was I not, trembling and unsure, accepting of your advances? I but an adolescent, unknown in the ways of asari." Her breath slowed to a piercing pulse, the pulse of a beat, the beat of two hearts synchronized under biotic potential. His march towards her matched that very drum: Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. "I accepted you, your eternity. And now you can't accept me with the same generosity?" Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. "What must I do to gain that same trust? The ability to peer into the unknown and not be afraid? I have the chance to change the galaxy and save us. Why must I ruin the possibility of salvation because you can't have faith in me?"
"Saren . . . I . . ." Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
"You what?" Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
"I . . . I . . ." She lifted her head, finding his eyes and lips mere millimeters from hers.
"Tevos," he whispered, drawing into her aura like he had when he had been only twenty years old.
His pheromones permeated her senses, begged her to give in. As every second passed an aching sensation filled her, frantic and clawing at a chance to be coveted again. While her lust grew in its ferocity, her mind became a schism between conflicting ideals. How can I trust him? she debated. When he tells me so little . . . How can I believe in those words? With the internal conflict raging and her body threatening to burst, a single thought broke through her clouded consciousness.
I . . . I love him.
"I will," she said, her body aching with anticipation. "I trust you, Saren. Now and always." He pulled her in with a single kiss, a powerful collision that sent her world spiralling. Even second felt like an eternity and as he stroked her curves with power and control, she knew that nothing else mattered to her in the galaxy.
She felt her clothes begin to drape off her body, she felt her skin pricked by the cool air, she felt his skin against her, and she felt the centuries old asari tradition being played out once again. All anger, all hatred melted into a pool of delight and sensualize elegance. Her body never moved as gracefully as she did in that moment, regardless of the dress or display she had put on in public before. Alone in the conference room, it would appear that the space felt too big for such an intimate display, but to the two lovers grappling onto one another, its size allowed for the boldest of intentions.
Wafting the natural metallic odor off his body, Tevos reached around his neck and nestled into him. Tonight I will be his, like how he was to me all those years ago. Feeling every inch of pleasure, Tevos' mind for the first time in months did not consider anything outside of that room. I trust him, she realized with startling clarity. I trust him . . . and nothing can change that.
The bonding continued in the spacious interior, the scents and sounds of devotion reverberating below the purple clouds of a nebula. Inside Tevos let herself be taken in by the power of a Spectre's promise, a chance to believe everything that he had ever said. However, poison had already begun to coil around the councillor's neck, just like it had for the turian Spectre. The taint - the corruption - that would spell doom for a galaxy, cemented by the lusting throes of two clasped together under a widow's gaze. And like any predator, peering at its prey with its gluttonous eyes, it watched and waited for the poison to fully take hold and paralyze. Its thin tendrils dancing around their cries of euphoria in the veil of a cloudy, amaranthine shadow.
The poison that would undo a galaxy bore deep into the veins of the Citadel through the passion of two lovers under a predator's vengeful gaze.
Author's Note: Written for the July Contest - "I Will Go Down With This Ship" - on the Aria's Afterlife Forum. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this take on a pairing that is too enticing to ignore writing about. As always, BioWare owns the characters and locations, I own the idea for the romance and the story.
