Rating: M – later chapters are violent, vicious and NOT suitable for under 16s. If you get upset because of that content, do not say you were not warned! There will be warnings at the top of relevant chapters as well – so you will have no excuses.

Characters: Goa'uld, Jaffa (read and find out!)

Disclaimer: The plot and two named characters are mine. The Stargate universe and any canon characters are merely being borrowed by me.

Genre: Angst/Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Backstabbing/Sneakiness…I know those last aren't real genres, but these are Goa'uld I'm writing for here!!!

Author's Note: This was born from two needs – one to create a backstory for a symbiote character I wanted to use in an MMORPG and the other to extract serious amounts of payback on a much-loved villain for all his canon nastiness (especially in a certain episode in Season 6). These needs collided in my head one day and voila! This was born and not only showed me where my OC came from but gave me a chance to wonder what made the bad guy so bad in the first place.

This story is set two thousand years before Daniel Jackson and Jack O'Neill first went to Abydos. Not a single piece of the history here is canon – but personally I like to think that maybe some of it came true.

Staring out upon his world, his current favourite, the self-proclaimed ruler of the galaxy allowed himself a moment or two of reflection upon his existence. Hundreds of years it had taken to reach this height of power, years in which he had battled with ships and armies against others of his kind, claiming territory and people as his victories mounted. Oh, he knew that many of them plotted against him – which of them wouldn't, given the genetic trait toward megalomania they all shared – but he was perfectly aware that not one of them would dare strike against him, so fearful were they of his power.

He had had many of them bow before, promising their loyalty and service in exchange for their lives. Spies aplenty were scattered through the armed ranks of these lesser lords, each faithfully reporting any dissidents, any defiance, any lapses that may indicate a waning of love for their supreme ruler. Such moments of doubt were swiftly dealt with – he could not afford for any of his underlings to loose faith. He was their God. To him would all worship be dedicated, their lives devoted to his service and if he wished it, they would rip their hearts from their own chests and he would watch whilst they bled at his feet. As he smiled in satisfaction of knowing his own greatness, a soft voice broke into his thoughts.

"You summoned me, my lord."

Ra looked down from the dais upon the kneeling form of his young charge. He considered again what it had been that had made him keep her with him instead of executing her with the rest of her brood. The idea of corrupting one of the less able Goa'uld into a great weapon had been too much of a challenge, too much of a temptation to prove his own skill. He had known from the moment he had looked upon the birthing pool that this brood was weak, insignificant. He could not allow such weakness within the ranks of the Goa'uld, even merely as tools to keep the Jaffa loyal. But this one…this one had reared from the pool and screamed at him in defiance. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, he admitted that to himself, and he had allowed only this one to survive the purge. The mother had escaped him but it was only a matter of time before he found her and punished her for her foolish belief that she could defy him.

A slight movement swung his attention back to the fair-haired female before him. She knelt there, patiently, awaiting the words of her master. He had never had reason to doubt her, although she was still young, as his training of her mind and body had been thorough. She was his to command and it gave him a great sense of pleasure to have this singular creature at his bidding despite the line she had been birthed to.

"Rise, child." He watched her gracefully unfold to stand before him. "We have a guest tonight for dinner. I expect you to be appropriately attired."

"Of course, my lord. Is there something in particular you have in mind for me?"

"Yes. Zaren will escort you to your chamber. My gift for you will await you once you have bathed."

"As you wish it, my lord."

Ra watched her leave, impressed with her carriage and demeanour. He had chosen well for her host – a fine boned, delicate looking female who was quite deceptive in her appearance. It pleased him to see her making use of the opportunities he had provided for her. Perhaps tonight she would prove herself more valuable to him than she all ready was. If she did then his current plans for her might be worth postponing.

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Niobe reclined in the bath, wondering what it was that her lord was planning that she had to attend the dinner that night. She deliberately used the perfumes she knew he preferred whilst cleansing her body and hair, thinking to please him further. As she rose from the water, two women stepping forward to pat her silken skin dry, a gown was brought before her. Looking upon it, she couldn't help but feel humbled by her lords' benevolence.

They dressed her in a gown of gold, bronze and copper silk, tiny beads along the hem and neckline. She looked at herself in a mirror and was stunned at the trouble her lord was going to - perhaps this guest was important to his plans. Her legs were barely visible beneath the flowing strips of material, an occasional flash of pale skin when she moved. Her arms were bare but for painted tattoos picked out in the same colours as the gown. Between her breasts hung a golden-brown stone to which the fabric was fastened – if it hadn't been, the gown would have peeled away to fall to her feet. The cut out over her stomach was covered with gauze bearing the symbol of her lord and the head-dress she had been presented with rested atop the curls, a small golden medallion of her lord's symbol hanging over her forehead. They painted her face delicately in metallic colours, highlighting the soft angles of her cheek and jaw bones, deepening the sky-blue of her eyes and dusting her eyelashes with gold. They teased her hair into full ringlets, pinning them around her face and upon her head so they cascaded like a golden waterfall over her shoulders and down her back. Her nails were painted gold whilst the tips were dusted with copper. As she stepped out of her quarters in gold and copper sandals, Zaren was waiting.

She was gratified to see Zaren's expression as she walked regally to the dining chamber – he looked like he had been punched in the face. In fact, every male she passed had the same dumbstruck look upon their faces. Normally the Jaffa that paced beside her was hard-faced and stern but Zaren had been her personal guard since she had taken a host and they had a strange relationship. She found herself thinking of him fondly when he scolded her for being reckless during training. She would tease him when she succeeded in landing a blow, forcing him to retaliate harder and faster, providing a real test of her skills. Afterwards, he would be gentle as he helped her back to her rooms, both of them knowing that she would not heal within a sarcophagus because to do so would erase the lessons behind each bruise from her body-memory.

She didn't notice how Zaren was watching her carefully. For all that she was his god, Zaren looked upon the young woman as a surrogate daughter. He knew he shouldn't but her way of talking to people, the way she listened and devoted herself to her training had impressed him more than any godly act. He was getting older, his own children grown and serving their god either as warriors or priestesses. At least they knew their history, their place within the universe. He feared for the mistress he had chosen – he knew she didn't understand her feelings of conflict just as he knew she didn't realise he could see the conflict within her. He only hoped that their lord didn't realise she was a danger until she was all ready far away from him and his fearsome wrath.