I watch the steady breathing of the woman who lies so peacefully beside me, a faint smile on her lips. She is a curious thing, so complacent in her trust. One might expect such trust from a mere concubine who has managed to remain blissfully unaware of my powers, but she is a far less innocent creature. For a decade now we have danced together, exploring such depravities which would send a concubine seeking for a means to end her pitiful life than to spend another night in my company. Perhaps more than any other woman in my Empire, Ysanne Isard is aware of what I am capable of. She has after all suffered most of it at my hand willingly, or been witness to it… and yet here she lies, naked and asleep at my side, the picture of vulnerability. Her trust in me is absolute. More than the marks which blemish her skin from the night's amusement, her willingness to sleep shows her trust. Idly I ghost a finger over the raw split skin on her back, caused by Force lighting and my newest little toy, a whip fashioned from the tail of a vornskr. As my finger grazes the wound her eyes shoot open and she glances around wide eyed and on alert for a moment before seeing me beside her and relaxing her tensed muscles.
"You startled me Sire." she says, her voice soft and demure in contrast with her usual harsh tones.
"Did I now?" I enquire, but it's a rhetorical question.
"Did you wish something of me Sire?" she asks, rolling onto her side and propping herself on an elbow facing me, wincing faintly as her raw skin tugs against the muscles as she does so.
"No I was simply reflecting." I tell her.
"On?" she presses, then quickly amends herself at my raised brow "If you wish to speak of it of course my Lord." she says.
"On how I killed my former master." I say, and watch her reaction. Her expression betrays nothing, but her signature in the force gives a faint whisper of anxiety. "Sleep makes one quite vulnerable." I add feeling her anxiety tighten for a moment before shifting to confusion. The realization if I intended to kill her I would simply end her life without her even realizing what had occurred.
"I see." she says, her tone stoic. "And how was that, if I might inquire my Lord? Seeing as you brought the topic up." I laugh and acquiesce her for the moment.
"In his sleep, naturally." I respond. Seeing the protest start to form on her lips I press a finger to them and she falls silent. "I lulled him to sleep with wine and practicing a speech. When he finally gave into slumber, I made my move. He realized far too late the folly of sleeping in the presence of one who is inclined to wish your demise." Considering my words, Ysanne asks the most prudent of questions.
"Why would he have suspected such?" she asks, shifting herself so she leans slightly against me, her posture remarkably relaxed for the nature of the conversation. It's amusing and so I allow it.
"Such is the way of the Sith. Betrayal and death are in our nature. It is the goal of every apprentice to destroy their Master that they may assume the title. There is no other way to achieve mastery for the Sith." I tell her and observe as she relaxes further.
"So it wasn't personal then." she remarks.
"Wise." I reply, and she understands my meaning. "It was not entirely personal, but there was a personal matter about it. Your real question to me is what the risk to your own life is." I state and she nods. I don't answer her however. Instead I turn the question back to her. "What does it matter to you anyway? You seem to have little regard for your life, since you are aware of the potential danger, yet willingly place yourself within my reach." I remark and she pulls back a little at the change in my tone. Not afraid yet, but alert. She considers her words carefully before she responds.
"I trust you Sire." she says and I regard her skeptically.
"And yet you question what might tempt me to end your life." I remark.
"I trust you won't." Ysanne replies "So long as I can be useful to you." she adds.
"A calculated risk then." I reply and she nods, drawing closer once more.
"I suppose some might call it that." she says thoughtfully.
"What else would one call it?" I ask. She tilts her head up to meet my gaze and smiles.
"Love." she says and I scoff at her.
"Do your emotions blind you so much, you think you are immune to my wrath?" I ask coldly, drawing on the Force to exert pressure upon her throat to stress my point. She does not fight it and after a moment I release her.
"No. I am not so naive." she says. "Rather… I do not wish my demise. I wish to avoid it if I can. However I do not fear it at your hands. It isn't that I do not believe you capable of it." she explains.
"Then what Ysanne?" I press her, irritation sliding into my tone.
"Love." she repeats. Seeing my warning glare she quickly clarifies her statement. "My love for you is such Sire I do not fear death from you, because if it brought you happiness… I would… not welcome it… but I would be happy knowing my last breaths brought you contentment."
"Is your love truly so deep?" I ask her and she nods.
"It is Sire." Ysanne confirms, watching my face for some hint of whatever emotion I might feel at that, seeking reassurance it pleases me.
"You truly are an enigma my dear." I say, a smile crossing my face faintly as I roll her beneath me. Meeting my gaze she gives me a slight smile.
"I care not for what I am, only what I might be to you Sire." she says. "And how I might serve you."
"A shame more in the Empire do not share your level of devotion Ysanne." I respond, idly running a hand along her supine form. Her smile shifts to a playful grin as she shifts herself beneath me to whisper against my neck as she kisses it.
"But then I would not be an enigma now would I my Lord?" she says laughing.
"Quite so my dear." I respond. "Quite so."