To Vel, whose Nyreen was always my favourite, and to nycarts, who helped me pick up a fandom that I had almost abandoned (and who also helped beta-read this).
I hope to someday supplement this with other stories about Nyreen and Aria, but for the time being, consider this a one-shot.
She watched from the shadows, cat-like eyes caressing the lounging figure amidst the chaos of a vicious bar fight. Spirits, but she was always beautiful.
Skin the colour of royalty—like purple mountain flowers from Palaven's highest peaks—seemed to glow faintly under the heavy neon lights. Skin that, for the longest time, she longed to touch, to taste, to explore. You could not hope to tear your gaze away once you locked eyes with Aria T'Loak, Queen of Omega. You could not hope to escape her mesmerizing looks, her intoxicating presence—could not hope to stand against her iron will. Sooner or later, you faltered. Sooner or later, you submitted.
Just as I had submitted.
That cool, self-assured gaze reminded Nyreen of a moon: brightly illuminating, but lacking a star's warmth. This was the asari she had fallen in love with. This was the asari whom she had been willing to throw her ideals away for.
A tyrant: one who would kill others on a mere whim, her kingdom built on a foundation of corpses and fortified with the thick, condensing fear that hung over her people like heavy rain clouds.
And a saviour: one who would set aside her precious time for a lowly foot soldier, show mercy in a world where none could be found, and reveal within Nyreen a gem as precious as the amethyst from which the queen of Omega was cut.
The others must think her a fool for falling for someone so . . . mercurial.
If Aria T'Loak was the moon, then she was the ocean, pushing and pulling, attracted and repelled—a mere puppet to the moon's whims. Alas, if only she could weather away that frigid prison that held the asari's heart . . . But for every push and every pull, every violent tug at her heart strings, it was her own will that was weathered away.
What will be left of me when you are done, Aria?
She sidestepped casually, letting out a small sigh as a batarian was violently thrown against the wall. Catching Aria's eye, she held the asari's gaze, stomach fluttering, heart aching. Even this far away, she still felt so damn vulnerable.
Spirits, but she was certainly . . . striking: a presence you could not hope to ignore. Like a collapsing star, everything gravitated towards her—and everything was crushed by her. She was a celestial body, in her own right, a thing to be worshiped, to be put upon a high pedestal and viewed from afar.
And so I become the moon, anchored towards her, revolving around her. She is my world, my centre, my god . . .
Aria raised a hand, gesturing for her to come closer, a playful smirk on her full lips.
She obeyed.
Each step drew her closer to her lover—and farther from herself.
Everything about her was terrifyingly mesmerizing. Her strength and her confidence were intensified by those keen, steel blue eyes. They pierced through her, and twisted her stomach into knots, killing her slowly, torturously.
Nyreen always thought her eyes were her best weapon.
She sat just beside Aria, tensing as the asari draped herself on top of her, arms around her neck, thighs pressing against hers. The sudden contact sparked a fiery blaze of desire inside her, stoking that animal, that baser desire that she had come to silently despise.
She breathed in her scent, shivering involuntarily as Aria dipped for a kiss, lips teasingly touching, grazing along her lips. The kiss was electric, awakening every sensory nerve under her skin so that she was acutely aware of Aria's already overwhelming presence.
You drown me.
She returned the kiss, arms pulling Aria close, succumbing to their shared desire. Aria's caresses were always expertly given; under her touch, Nyreen could not deny her anything.
You drown me.
She felt a gentle buzzing at the back of her mind, a cursory, inquisitive touch that seemed to somehow transcend the physical. She felt herself slowly crushing from the weight of raw, visceral emotions pressing down on her, magnifying her own feelings until they became like a million tiny needles, pricking against her skin, burning her, amplifying her lust until she was swept away by the currents, completely under Aria's thrall.
She gasped and pulled away, sudden fear washing over her, thoughts racing, pulse screaming in her ears, her face flushed blue from their brief contact. "Spirits," she whispered, understanding slowly dawning across her startled expression.
"Didn't your mother warn you about asari like me?" Aria purred, a finger tracing along the curve of Nyreen's chin.
"You were melding with me!" Nyreen stuttered indignantly and pulled away, body aching to be underneath that sinuous body once more.
"Well, yes, we do like to occasionally do that with partners we deem . . . desirable," the asari drawled softly, her gaze losing its previous warmth.
Nyreen had given her body to Aria several times already, but only now did she feel truly naked under those scrutinizing eyes.
"I'm sorry," she managed to say, stumbling back, almost bumping into a passing krogan. "I think I need some time to think"—she gestured vaguely, body shaking with contained energy—"about this. About us."
She turned and fled before Aria could form a proper reply.
Nyreen returned to her during the wee hours of the morning, when the crowd in Afterlife was at its thinnest.
She moved with a predatory grace, eating the distance between them with her long, elegant strides, proud face held high. Watching her idly from atop her balcony, Aria felt the stirrings of . . . something she would rather not name. Akin to pride, intertwined with a hint of possessive—it was a fleeting emotion, a brief slip of weakness she quickly crushed under a callous heel.
"Aria," the turian whispered her name, tilting her head respectfully, her dulcet tone sweet, like a lover's caress.
"And so my wayward lover has returned," Aria teased though her expression remained under guard.
For once, the turian did not crack a smile at the acknowledgement.
She must still be upset.
"So I have," Nyreen replied acerbically.
The asari made a noncommittal sound, feigning indifference. "Your company was missed."
"I'm sure it was."
Under the dark, pulsing lights, Nyreen's unwavering visage was made even more alluring by the shafts of red and violet light that accentuated her best features. Aria's fingers ached to touch the turian's cheek, to brush along a mandible and capture her eyes—to divine their secrets. Where have you been, little bird? Gone off to wet your face with tears at my lieutenant's breast? She almost grimaced at the thought; her subordinate, and one of Nyreen's first mentors, was known for her enthusiasm in getting into other people's pants. Only the threat of being skinned alive kept the asari from making a move towards any of Aria's lovers.
"Grizz broke his nose," Aria continued lightly. The words, however, were far from insubstantial; their purpose was to probe the turian's mood. It didn't help that she wanted to touch Nyreen's nose—map its contours with her lips. She resisted, keeping her lust for the young turian at bay.
Nyreen predictably appeared bemused by the statement. "It's not like our noses are made out of cartilage."
"And yet," Aria glanced at her before turning her back to survey her people below, "it seems you are not made out of stone either."
Even with her back to Nyreen, she knew from the silence that she had upset the former soldier. "I never claimed that I was," the turian retorted a few seconds later, voice quivering with restrained anger.
Sometimes it was so vexingly easy to push her buttons.
Aria resisted a sigh. "I had thought that someone would have told you about melding—"
"I know," Nyreen interjected, suddenly self-conscious. "A certain asari, ah, clued me in. My first night here."
Her grip on the railings tightened in barely concealed jealousy. A part of her wondered what Nyreen meant when she mentioned Aria's lieutenant. Did they simply talk, or was a live demonstration somehow involved? Aria wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Instead, she demanded, "Then why did you run away?" Why did you flee from the touch of my mind? Their conversation already bordering on the explosive, it was too bad Aria wasn't feeling particularly tactful. Her accusation would ignite the violent anger burning in both their hearts. "You don't trust me, do you?"
"I don't trust myself around you," Nyreen corrected.
"Oh?" Aria slowly turned around, eyes glinting dangerously. "Is that really how you feel, or are you just saying that to appease me?"
"And what am I supposed to say?" she demanded, closing the distance between them, mandibles quivering, hands balled into fists. "You know why I don't want to meld with you, Aria? It's because I have to watch myself around you. It's because I feel like I have to pretend that I'm someone I'm not." Impulsively, she grabbed Aria's chin and pressed against her, kissing her fiercely, trying to somehow put into the kiss emotions she could not put into simple words.
Aria pushed her away violently, a flicker of confusion and rage passing through her eyes.
"At the very least," Nyreen spoke softly, taking a step back, feeling a sudden immeasurable distance between them, "that was genuine."