The Rukath estate, southeast of Kaas City, felt the same as it ever did. But then, Eilan mused as he steered the small landspeeder, I haven't been gone for very long, in truth. His training on Korriban had been accelerated, and it hadn't been long before Darth Baras had requested his presence here on Dromund Kaas. Willing to be the perfect model of a Sith apprentice for the time being, Eilan had taken care of his master's tasks before requesting leave to visit his family. Perhaps Baras knew the precise reason the young man wished to go; it wouldn't have surprised Eilan. The Darth revealed nothing, however, as he granted his apprentice two days of freedom before taking up his work again.

"Sooo... this is the ol' homestead, huh?" Vette asked, looking at the orchards as they flew by.

"More or less. This is where I lived until I went to Korriban to complete my training." Perhaps part of him thought of this place as "home" by default; after all, it had been where he'd spent his formative years. But home sometimes still conjured up memories of a small, cozy apartment in the upper levels of Coruscant, not too far from the Jedi Temple. Or so his parents had always said; he'd never been to the Temple. He could feel it in the Force, buzzing like a hive of bees, but when he'd said so as a small child, his father had told him sternly not to listen to it.

And so the Jedi never found me. And here I am.

Though he said nothing further, Vette seemed to catch on to his distinction between living place and home, and asked no more questions until they reached the residential compound.

"I would ask that you be on your best behavior in front of my father," Eilan said quietly as two guards made their way from the main building to greet them.

"What, like a 'real' slave?" There was an edge in the Twi'lek's voice, resentment with a touch of fear. Eilan focused on the latter.

"Be properly respectful," he said in a tone he usually reserved for threats. "My lord father may be somewhat more tolerant of aliens than most, but he will not hesitate to put you in your place if he feels you need it."

"So, just like every other Sith ever, then?"

Eilan turned towards his flippant companion; while he could not glare at her, he could demonstrate his displeasure to her with the strength of his aura. She shifted slightly in discomfort. "Do not make me fight him because of you, Vette," he said succinctly. "Not today."

His uncharacteristic hostility finally seemed to make an impression on her. She knew why today, in particular, was significant; he'd given her a brief explanation of his errand before asking her to come along. Perhaps it might have been safer for her to remain in the city, but... In truth, he realized that he wanted to give her a glimpse into where he came from, whatever that might be worth.

Maybe sometime he could actually bring himself to tell her that. But not right now, as she sat in disgruntled silence while they waited for the guards to reach the speeder and verify Eilan's identity.

"Welcome home, my Lord," one of them said with a bow as the Miraluka stepped out of the speeder.

"Thank you, Lantais. Vette, come along." Eilan waved for the Twi'lek to join him, and she did so with alacrity. With her at his heels, he entered the house, casting about for any changes, and for any sign of his family.

The furniture in the den seems to have been shifted around, and it seems that the floor's been redone, but naught else seems different. He wondered at his own expectations that things should have changed since he was gone. I suppose it's felt far longer to me than it's truly been. Longer in experience than in time, perhaps.

Behind him, Vette was taking in the household, perhaps calculating the worth of the assorted artifacts and decor on display. She was impressed, that much he could tell, but too stubborn (and probably still too offended from earlier) to admit it. Well. He could apologize later, but not here. Not when he could sense his lord father two rooms away, in his study.

With a brief touch on his companion's arm to catch her attention, he crossed the foyer and led her into the east wing of the house. Lord Pavel's study was the second room down, and the door was open; a greeting boomed out before Eilan had quite made it to the doorway.

"Eilan! I'd say it was about time you made your way home, but I hear you've been busy!" Pavel had risen from his chair, and now reached out to clasp hands with his adopted son.

"Just a tad," Eilan replied with a slight smile, returning the gesture. He felt Pavel's attention flick to Vette; he dismissed her as unimportant for the time being, but there would be questions later, Eilan was certain. For the moment, though, the Sith Lord seemed content to regard his protégé, his decade-long project, with pride.

"Hand-picked apprentice of Darth Baras! An impressive honor, my boy." The older man's voice dropped to a less boisterous volume. "And a dangerous one. I'm sure I needn't tell you—watch your back."

Eilan inclined his head. "Always, my Lord."

"Good, good." Pavel looked back to his desk and retrieved a datapad, glancing briefly at the words on the screen before nodding to himself. "How long a respite do you have?" he asked as he returned his attention to the younger Sith.

"I must be back tomorrow," Eilan replied, shading his voice with a touch of regret. "In truth, I was lucky to get even that much."

"Oh, I'm certain," Pavel agreed. "Quite gracious of Darth Baras to give you the time to come home, even if for a night. I suppose we should settle the contract now, though." He handed the datapad to Eilan. "Dia's already read it. If you've no objections to the language, we'll get it signed and registered."

The Miraluka nodded absently as he activated the small receiver in his ear. With a few button presses on the datapad, a cool feminine voice began to recite the words of the contract to him. Most of it was quite standard for a Sith marriage contract; he paid particular attention for any clauses that seemed unusual.

A divorce may be sought by either party, for any reason; however, claims of abuse or violence will be investigated in order to protect the estate of the accused as well as the accuser.

That was actually a standard stipulation in a marriage where a Sith was involved, but it brought a humorless grin to his lips. It reminded him of his earliest days in the Rukath home, some few months after his arrival on Dromund Kaas. He'd been subjected to a barrage of questioning, Force-testing, and medical examination up until then, his status somewhere at the intersection of lab specimen, prisoner, and slave. Once the Imperials had been satisfied by whatever they'd discovered, Pavel had taken the calculated risk of bringing his prize into his household.

Diarwen, unsurprisingly, had detested him on sight. Even at that age, she had been made aware of her parents' disappointment in her lack of Force ability, and to have this alien child with power to spare suddenly thrust into her life only increased her sense of rejection. In retaliation, she made Eilan's life utterly miserable.

Pavel made no attempt to interfere; looking back on it now, Eilan supposed that he was expected to take care of himself when amongst his peers. After all, what sort of Sith let himself be bullied? But it took years for the young Miraluka to gain the confidence to stand up for himself in a proactive manner, rather than merely lashing out when cornered, like an animal. Until then, he was fair game.

Sometimes, though, Dia's reach exceeded her grasp. Half a year into Eilan's new life as an Imperial, his sister somehow managed to knock an ornate antique vase to the floor, shattering it into a several dozen little pieces. It might have been repairable, but its value was almost certainly ruined. Naturally, the girl attempted to blame her unwanted brother for the deed, blatantly lying to her father's face when the two of them were summoned to explain the incident.

Eilan had seethed at the lie, but he'd had no chance to protest his innocence before Pavel slapped Diarwen across the face. As she fell to her knees, radiating humiliation, fear, and anger, her father said in a measured tone, "You must learn to be a far better liar if you wish to deceive a Sith, Dia. Until then, do not waste my time or your breath." He looked up at Eilan and pointed to the door. "Go."

The boy heard Dia choke back a sob as he quickly left the room and closed the door behind him; at that moment in time, her misery was a balm to his own.

And now we're supposed to marry each other, Eilan thought with bleak amusement, his mind returning to the present. Fortunately for me, she never became a brilliant liar.

The only other language in the contract that stood out was the very carefully worded custody clause. In virtually every case, custody of any and all children had been ceded to Diarwen. In the event that she was unable to provide care—whether because of death, illness, incarceration or what-have-you—Lord Pavel was the next choice. The contract wrote Eilan entirely out of the lives of any of his children with Diarwen if something happened to part them, which, if he were honest with himself, was strongly likely.

It was... a wrinkle. He could only guess it was because of his non-human status, and the fact that any children of theirs would be Lord Pavel's inheritors. And, too, if he continued to serve Darth Baras as directly as he did now, he would have a difficult time acting as a single parent if the need arose. Leaving the children with Diarwen was the logical, and palatable (for an Imperial) choice, and that gave him little room to protest.

Ah, well. It wasn't as if I wanted any little brats, anyway. "I have no objections, my Lord," he said out loud as he handed the datapad back.

"Very well. We'll need Dia and a witness, then." It went without saying—in Pavel's mind—that Vette would never do as a legitimate witness, particularly to something as important as a formal betrothal. The Sith Lord was reaching for his holocomm when a voice at the door stopped him.

"Dia is here, Father."

Eilan turned to regard his adoptive sister. She seemed collected, but a layer of resentment and apprehension simmered below her well-trained facade of propriety.

"Dear sister. I hope you've been well," the Miraluka said politely, inwardly pleased at how his urbanity seemed to catch her off-guard.

"Eilan," she greeted him coolly. Her glance slid over to Vette, and Eilan felt the sudden outburst of emotion hidden behind her mask of disdain: mostly offended anger, with a hint of jealousy and a tinge of shame. When she finally found her words again, however, she spoke in the bored, slightly irritated tone of a jaded noble. "I must say, it takes a great deal of nerve to bring a whore into the house on the day you're signing your betrothal contract."

He gave no warning, but simply slapped her, just hard enough to shock her into silence. The sound rang in the sudden quiet for an obscenely long moment.

"That is for insulting Vette to her face, and for thinking I would be so crass and so stupid," Eilan said coldly. He felt Diarwen recoil, not just physically, but mentally. With her mask shattered, he could sense that she was well and truly frightened of him now. Perhaps she'd finally realized that he was no longer the little foundling boy she could rule over as the heir of the household; he was the apprentice of one of the most powerful Sith in the Empire, and would soon become her husband. The boundaries of her life were changing, and once again it was his fault, his doing.

He would have to savor her fear at another time, however. At the moment, he had to do his best to show Vette's value, before Pavel decided to be rid of her for Dia's sake.

At least she's had the sense to keep her mouth shut so far. Indeed, he could feel through the Force that the Twi'lek was on edge and nervous. Perhaps she understood the particular kind of danger she was in at the moment. Not that that always stopped her from running her mouth, but she was clever enough to see what Eilan stood to lose if he had to physically defend her from his father.

And now to address that. The Miraluka turned to Lord Pavel and inclined his head in a brief bow. "Vette here was a gift from Darth Baras, given to me on the eve of completing my trials on Korriban," he said smoothly. "She is an accomplished treasure hunter, and was of invaluable assistance both in the tombs of Korriban and the Dark Temple here on Kaas."

Pavel turned his full attention to Vette, and Eilan could feel his companion's tension under the scrutiny. "A 'treasure hunter'? In other words, a thief, probably caught desecrating the tombs, yes?" the Sith asked in a neutral tone.

Before Vette could speak up and put her foot in it, Eilan answered for her. "You are correct, of course, my Lord. However, a useful tool is not hastily discarded."

"Hmph." It was hard to tell if Pavel's grunt was of grudging agreement or of skepticism, but he dropped the subject of Vette's criminal activities. "The Dark Temple, you say? You actually went in?"

"Certainly." Eilan smiled thinly. He'd played that card quite deliberately, knowing it would pique the man's interest. "At the behest of Darth Baras, of course."

"A challenging assignment, but one with great rewards, I would assume." It was a question phrased as a statement; Pavel was naturally curious about what Baras would have wanted badly enough to throw his apprentice into such danger.

It wasn't Eilan's place to speak of what he'd retrieved for his master, however, and the paranoid Darth was even higher on his list of people not to offend than Lord Pavel. "So it would seem, my Lord," he said with a slight shrug, as if to imply that Baras's machinations were beyond him. "'Challenging' is a fair assessment."

"But what is it like?" Pavel finally deigned to ask. "The rumors I've heard are absolutely outrageous, full of..." he waved a hand brusquely, "mystical babbling." While the art of sorcery was every bit as valid an application of the Force as using it in a more directly physical fashion, the veteran warrior had little patience for discussion of the metaphysics involved.

"I daresay there was some kernel of truth in what you've heard." The Miraluka smiled at Pavel's incredulity. "The place is, for lack of a better word, haunted, and many of the ghosts there are, or were, Sith, all waiting to seize the unwary minds and bodies of any who enter their domain. The entire temple seethes with dark energies and darker intentions." Dramatic, yes, but he wanted to properly convey the atmosphere and danger of the place.

He felt a peculiar jolt from Diarwen as he finished his description, a ripple of apprehension centered on his words. She has no reason to fear Sith ghosts—she'd never have to set foot anywhere near the Temple. So then what...?

After a moment, he realized her attention, and her fear, were focused on him. Ah. "Dark energies and darker intentions"... Is that what you think of me, dear sister? How droll.

"Haunted, eh?" Pavel still sounded dubious, but he didn't doubt that Eilan, at least, believed what he had said. "Are they still sending those Reclamation Service fools in there, then, or are they cutting their losses?"

"Well, my advice to anyone who would listen was to stay out, but I'm not making the decisions out there," the Miraluka said with a broad shrug. "I'd not return to the place lightly, I'll say that much."

"Hmph." Despite his skepticism about the true danger of the Temple, Pavel seemed pleased by the fact that Eilan had gone there and survived. His concerns with Vette forgotten, he reached for the marriage contract again.

"Father," Diarwen said suddenly, "I need to speak to you before..." She glanced at the datapad in his hand, as if afraid to say the words out loud.

Pavel sighed in clear exasperation. "Briefly, Dia." He nodded towards the door, indicating that Eilan should leave. The Miraluka did so in silence, waving for Vette to follow. The door slid shut behind them.

"Nice family ya got here," the Twi'lek said in an undertone as they walked farther down the hall.

Eilan smiled thinly at his companion as he stopped in front of a closed door. They could not hear the conversation from here, but he could clearly feel Diarwen's uneasiness and Pavel's irritation. It seemed that Dia hadn't realized how Eilan's presence would affect her before she agreed to sign the contract. Not that she really had much choice; Pavel would insist she marry someone with power (both in the Force and in Imperial society), and wouldn't someone she knew, someone who was more or less family already, be preferable to a total stranger?

Or such was Pavel's reasoning, at any rate. Despite, or perhaps because of, Dia's admitted attraction to him—and that was years ago, now—she might well be happier with someone she didn't know at all.

Hmm. I suppose I should try to be a little more charming, for now.

"Do you think she'll try to call it off?" Vette asked curiously. It seemed that even immersion into a strained Sith household couldn't keep her down for long.

Eilan shook his head. "She might try, but I don't think she can. Lord Pavel has invested great deal of time, effort, money, and social capital into grooming me for this; unless I do something completely and utterly reprehensible, I don't believe he'll let her out of the arrangement."

"Contracts, investments, arrangements... is this a business deal or a marriage?"

"A bit of both," the Sith replied dryly. Before he could elaborate, the door to Pavel's study opened, and Dia leaned out, presumably to look for them. Eilan waved to her to save her the trouble of calling him. "And now," he murmured to Vette, "on with the show."

It was easy enough to tell that Pavel had put his foot down; Eilan could clearly sense his grim steadfastness as he re-entered the room. Dia, on the other hand, was miserable, and struggling to hide it. There was an aura of despair around her, not just from this forced marriage, but from some older, deeper wound. Eilan suspected that her father had raised the point of her utter uselessness to him in order to guilt her into agreement. No Force abilities, no military inclinations, relatively little political instinct: Diarwen was a poor heir to the Rukath name, and Pavel wanted a better candidate, a grandchild, in his lifetime.

Eilan could almost pity her. Almost. Still, if he could ease her mind somewhat, this entire process would go much more smoothly.

"Dia," he said quietly. She turned to him quickly; he seldom used her nickname, preferring simply to address her as dear sister. "I won't keep you against your will. Your father wishes an heir from us; once that is done, you may leave if you wish. I would not hold you back."

She was staring at him, he realized, and the tenor of her thoughts was clear enough: was he rejecting her even before they'd wed? Eilan realized he had to head off that train of thought before it entrenched itself. Reaching out to her through the Force, he nudged one tiny seed of an idea towards her, one that he hoped would take root and grow: I want you to be happy.

He wasn't schooled in the mind-manipulation that both Jedi and Sith used with impunity, but knowing that it was possible, he'd experimented lightly on the people around him for years. Little suggestions, deflections, second-guesses, minute things that the average person would never detect as a foreign influence. This was perhaps the most important attempt he'd ever made, and time seemed to slow as he waited for his sister's reaction.

Finally, she nodded in acceptance, and Eilan felt the despair threatening to drown her recede somewhat. "Very well," she said evenly, "let us sign and get this over with."

Pavel's chamberlain, a retired Navy officer named Holson, was summoned to witness the signing, which was a simple matter of the couple affixing their fingerprints to the contract. After all of the drama leading up to it, it was quite anti-climactic, Eilan reflected.

So now I am officially betrothed. He hadn't expected to feel very strongly about it, and he still didn't, really, but the awareness of that contract now sat in the back of his mind, quietly looming over his thoughts. I'm committed, now. Provided I survive that long, of course.

Given the tension in the house, and despite his gentle appeal to Diarwen, the Miraluka thought it best if he returned to Kaas City, rather than staying the night. He expressed his polite regrets to Pavel, who he suspected agreed with him, then turned to his sister, whose attention snapped to him as if he were a hungry vine cat crossing her path.

"I hope you'll look upon me more kindly the next time I return, dear sister," he murmured before kissing her hand in courtly fashion. She didn't quite snatch her hand away, which he took as a positive sign.

"Take care, my boy," Pavel said gruffly. "The brighter you shine—"

"The more vermin I attract," Eilan finished with a sharp grin. "I'll be mindful, my Lord."

The wind whipping past his face as they sped back to the city was a welcome feeling, a kind of cleansing after wallowing in the treacherous mud of his family affairs. Vette was quiet beside him, but he could tell that she was dying to say something. He decided to give her an opening.

"Thank you for playing nicely, Vette. I think you can see why I asked it of you."

"Uh, yeah." Disbelief tinted the usual sarcasm in her voice. "Is it like that all the time? Between you and her?"

"More or less, I suppose. We have not had the most comfortable relationship, growing up," Eilan admitted freely.

"Then why are you getting married? I mean, if you don't like each other, isn't it kind of a bad deal on both sides? Are you really just gonna have a kid and split up?"

Eilan gave his companion a sardonic grin. "You compared it to a business deal before, and you were right. Look at it this way: an heir is my repayment to Lord Pavel for training me and, it must be said, helping to get me into a very enviable position. Without his backing, I probably wouldn't have made it to the Academy at that particular time, when the confluence of events brought me to Darth Baras's attention."

"Sooo... You literally owe it to him to give him a grandkid, huh?" Vette still sounded dubious.

"Making children isn't a particularly onerous task, Vette," the Miraluka said with a sly grin.

"You are so... ugh." The Twi'lek threw up her hands in exasperation. "Just seems like... Well, it's not very... family, you know?" She made a drawing-together motion with her hands, implying closeness and unity.

"No... but it's what I have now," Eilan said evenly. "It will have to do."

Picking up on the Sith's desire to end that line of conversation, Vette subsided, and the rest of the ride to Kaas City passed in silence.