A/N: Another chapter in the AgelessGrace66 songfic challenge. The song for this chapter is "Anywhere" by Evanescence. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and putting up with long delays between chapters. I hope this one doesn't disappoint.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.
He should not have touched her cheek. It was his one mistake in their private war, one that almost steered his victory into near disaster. Of all the angles he had considered, all the avenues and scenarios he had planned for and anticipated, he had not accurately predicted the emotional impact on himself in the wake of his victory. Or more to the point, the sweet, beautiful moment of her complete surrender.
He had touched her cheek on impulse, felt the softness of her sorrow as it spilled down her cheeks. Those eyes locked onto his, pleading and adrift as the storm he'd created within her continued to decimate everything. And he had seen it coming, that moment where everything could have been destroyed. And still, he did nothing to stop it.
In the end, he thought with slight annoyance, it was his own curiosity that had lead to the incident. Much like it had begun with Maris, with this alien woman that had captivated him, he could not remove the thought from his mind. Maris was not enamored with his potential, as was the Chiss way. Not pleased by his induction into one of the Ruling Families. No, she had enjoyed his company simply for himself. It was a foreign concept, a baffling and somewhat backward social custom of the humans to let their individual emotions dictate their associations rather than what was best for society as a whole.
It had been exhilarating, a private guilty pleasure to indulge in her affections. And that first kiss, stolen when Car'das and Qennto were sorting through the treasures of that Vagaari ship, had more than met his expectations.
Was it really so hard to believe the daughter would follow in the mother's footsteps?
He suppressed a frown, stepping into the waiting turbolift, the entire scene playing behind his eyes. Ella, shattered by his truths, stripped of enough of her former life to be amendable to whatever shape he wished to make of her. And that momentary flash of whimsy, the split second desire to let her fill his bed, that was just as quickly discarded.
Except that it wasn't. Except that somehow the student had learned to read enough of the Master to pick up on that momentary flight of fancy. Knowing how it would end—how it had to end, rather—he'd indulged himself and his curiosity. Letting her lean forward in her need for comfort, for a grounding reason to keep breathing. Forcing her with his stillness to make all the moves, to crawl slightly to close the distance she, herself, had put between them. Even then, only tilting his head a fraction to indicate the connection was wanted.
That initial contact should have been the end of it. A pressing of their closed mouths, his refusal to open for her a clear indication of exactly where their relationship stood. He was her teacher and benefactor, and that was all. She was his student, and that was all. And when she was ready, he would adopt her in the tradition of the Chiss, creating her as Mitth'ell'asi. Mitth for the house she should have been born into as his daughter, ell for being the brightest star in Maris's life, and asi in honor of her mother's family.
Only he had opened for her against all reasonable thought, his hand sliding behind her neck and pulling her in tight, taking over the kiss. His tongue tangling with hers, the tastes of her whiskey and his wine a unique flavor he would never forget. Burning heat and soothing coolness, a symbol of their standing if ever there was one. And he knew in that moment that she would yield if he wanted it, that he could pick her up and carry her to his bed that instant.
And destroy everything he had promised to protect with that action. She was not Maris. He did not love her like that, and as quickly as this had sprung up between them, he would grow tired of it. Passion cooling to logic in days if not the next morning. No, he wanted her loyalty in truth. He wanted to rebuild her with strength, not base her life on yet another lie.
"I trust this settles your curiosity," he said softly when they both came up for air. "And that you know it can never happen again."
She looked away, pressing a hand to her mouth. No doubt wondering what damage she'd done with that impulsive action. Wondering what steps she now had to take to correct it. Their relationship was too new, too unstable. And her world utterly shattered.
This time when his hand touched her cheek, it was without the passion. But not without tenderness. "You are incredibly beautiful, Ella. I am not rejecting your offer out of any deficiency in you, but rather out of a desire to see something lasting built between us. Based on a foundation stronger than passion. Give me that opportunity, and I promise you will not be disappointed."
He shook his head when she opened her mouth, silencing the apology in her eyes before the words were on her lips. Letting her know all was forgiven, forgotten. And he allowed her human need for comfort the way he should have, drawing her head to his chest, his arm resting across her shoulders. He let her weep for what was gone, for the lies that were shattered, for the pain left in their wake. When her tears were spent, when the wine and whiskey and sorrow had wrung her of all energy, he left her sleeping on that sofa.
It would be the only time he would allow this type of contact to happen. For in the morning, he would be her teacher. In the morning, she would start to learn the proper way to conduct herself. The Chiss way.
In the morning, he would send out a communication to Nirauan. There was a young Chiss officer there, fiery and somewhat impulsive, though possessed of ironclad determination to fulfill his duty. Kres'ten'tarthi
was a good man, an incredible pilot, and by all reports from Admiral Parck, the next in line to serve as the head of the Nuruodo Household Phalanx.
If Stent was amendable, he would arrange the match between him and Ella. The union dependant on both Stent's progress under Parck and Ella's progress under himself.
Thusly removing the distraction, the temptation, and presenting Ella with a husband closer in age and demeanor. And sealing the Ferasi bloodline to him forevermore.
I have won, Maris. Already the echo of my voice fills her mind, my guidance she adheres to, and it will be my model she copies when she rebuilds herself. She is ours. Very soon now, she will reject the Karrde blood within her of her own volition, and wed a man befitting of her station. I have won, and she is safe.
But first, there was one tiny little detail to be handled.
"Captain," he greeted as Pellaeon stepped into the lift. "I take it all went according to plan?"
"Yes, sir. Talon Karrde and Mara Jade were taken into custody ten minutes ago. Their shuttle should be arriving in docking bay two in a matter of minutes."
"Excellent," he replied, favoring the Captain with a tight smile. "Let's not keep our guests waiting."
They entered the docking bay right as the shuttle touched down on the deck, the repulsorlifts easing off gently. Officers and troopers came to sharp attention, filling out around them in a form of honor guard. Talon Karrde appeared at the top of the ramp, hands bound before him. His posture was neutral, Thrawn noted, neither the ramrod straight of a prisoner trying to save face, nor that of a man realizing his incredibly short future was about to come to an end in extensive amounts of pain. Talon walked with the simple gait of someone cautiously curious.
How ironic that fortunes could reverse themselves, and histories could repeat.
He let the tiniest of sharp smiles touch his lips. "Welcome to the Chimaera, Captain Karrde," he began, his nod of greeting only slightly mocking. "I apologize for our somewhat less than formal reception. This is merely a warship, after all, and not our main base of operations."
"Thank you, Admiral," the other replied, a flicker of memory passing through his mind. As if he, too, had memorized every word of their meeting on Myrkr. "Your invitation was impossible to decline. Dare I thank you in advance for your hospitality?"
"There is no need," he replied just as smoothly. "I regret we have time only for this brief conversation before we must be on our way. We do keep to a tight schedule."
"I see. I understand there has been some interesting drama onboard the Chimaera recently," Talon's eyes hardened, playing the game. Twisting their previous conversations. "Tell me about it. Specifically in regards to the location and condition of Ella Ferasi."
Thrawn let both eyebrows arch gently. "Safe and well."
"For how long?"
"That is no longer your concern, Captain. Ella Ferasi is now under my protection, and thusly now one of my associates."
"Let me see her," Karrde demanded, dropping all pretense of their game.
"Certainly not. For one, I do not allow prisoners to make demands of me. For another I will not subject her to the psychological damage of seeing you in chains. And lastly, I do not wish to see you harmed unnecessarily."
That made Talon pause, just as it was calculated to do, and he watched as the thoughts passed through those carefully guarded eyes. Watched the myriad possibilities click through his head until it arrived at just the right conclusion. That Ella now knew the truth. And that Ella would, without a
doubt, strike at her uncle for this betrayal. It was, after all, what any of the Karrde blood would have done if the situation was reversed.
He'd studied both Talon and Ella enough to know that for truth. When Talon spoke again, there was the slightest hint of emotion, the slightest burr of loss in his tone.
"How much does she know?"
The dangerous look Thrawn sent in his direction was nearly explanation enough. "That you stole her future, kept her in the dark about her own inheritance and used her like a virtual slave to fix your ships? Or are you referring to the fact that you made her into an outlaw like yourself when she could have held a respectable reputation as a shipping magnate? She knows both truths, Captain Karrde, though the latter she deduced on her own. She truly possesses a remarkable intellect."
Talon took a step forward, or tried to before restraining hands of stormtroopers pulled him backward. "That isn't the whole story and you know it," The other said softly, almost as dangerously. "Tell her the rest, Admiral, if truly wish to see her free."
He shrugged his shoulders. "I have told her enough for now. Rest assured, she will learn the full story when she is ready. For now, I am afraid our conversation is at an end. Unless, of course, you wish to tell me location of the Katana Fleet?"
"If I do, will you release Ella?"
Thrawn's smile grew, became as cold as space. He took the step forward, closing the distance between them. "As I said before, she is under my protection. That does not include making a slave of her. She may leave whenever she wishes. Unlike her time with you, she has chosen to stay of her own volition. I offered her any world under my control, a chance to start over with a clean slate. She chose to remain with me."
He stepped back, letting those implications sink in, letting it strip away a touch of the bravado from the other man. "I see we are done here," he lifted a hand, signaling a trooper forward. "Commander, take Captain Karrde to a place where he can ponder his options for a time undisturbed. Consider carefully, Captain. My patience is not infinite."
He watched the other man escorted to the turbolift, a feeling of deep satisfaction rising within him. Until it was spoiled by a single hissing voice calling his name. He turned, and sighed imperceptibly. Mara Jade, the former Emperor's Hand, stood between another pair of stormstroopers, the look on her face enough to scare most men. There was still one other matter to deal with before the evening was through…
Ella awoke to the strangest of sensations. The first being that the surface beneath her was too soft to be her bed, either on the Chimaera or on Talon's many bases. Being on the run from a Grand Admiral did not leave much in the way of creature comforts. Everything had to be portable, everything expendable if one had to cut and run at a moment's notice. Not a bit of personalized information could be left behind, nothing that could be traced back to any member of the organization.
It was safer for all that way. And if one had to suffer with substandard sleeping materials, one simply made due.
The second sensation was warmth, the feeling of a coverlet draped across her body. And finally came the emptiness, the fatigue that had nothing to do with the physical and everything to do with the heart. For the first time in nearly a decade, she was truly and utterly alone. No one to trust, no idea what her next step should be, no one to rely upon. Orphaned for the second time.
First by parents that had the audacity to get themselves killed without her. Second by an uncle that had worn the face of compassionate kindness while stealing the very future out from under her.
She was alone again. And instead of feeling sad or angry, she felt nothing.
Nothing but an all-too familiar lingering exhaustion that dragged at her very soul.
Ella pushed herself to a sitting position, a dulled sense of surprise echoing through her at her surroundings. She was still in his private lounge, still wearing that lovely gown of black and silver. Her hair was loose of its hairtsticks, though, as if someone had tenderly removed them before laying her down on the cushions. Someone had, she realized, memory coming back to her. Someone that had held her while she sobbed, while the weight of being betrayed yet again had crushed her heart. Ran his pale-blue fingers through her hair in a way that was possessive, proprietary even, without being sexual.
Someone she had kissed, when she knew damn well that she shouldn't have.
"Kriff," she cursed softly, rubbing her hands over her face. "Kriff, I shouldn't have done that."
But neither could she regret it. Thrawn had been right, as usual. It was curiosity that had driven her to kiss him, mixed with a bone-deep need for some sort of comfort. And like the gentleman that her mother had described, he'd refused to take advantage of her emotional state. He'd refused to take her to his bed, even though she knew it would have been a one-time thing. Only… only it wouldn't have, she was forced to admit. If he'd showed her more than a friendly compassion, she'd have turned it into more. If only to have a grounding base in which to start some sort of a new life.
Because she couldn't go back to Talon after what she'd learned. She couldn't even bring herself to call the man "Uncle" now.
And all this without verifying what Thrawn had said to her.
Stupid, she chided herself, trying to work up the gumption to challenge what she knew was true. It didn't matter that what he said resonated deep within her. She should verify it again and again and again. He wasn't perfect. He could make mistakes. And she was making the worst one ever if she threw away her old life on a handful of conversations with someone she barely knew.
Only… only what would he gain in lying to her? Not when the truth was so much more destructive, so much more heartbreaking and easy to come by. Still, some part of her owed it to Talon to try and confirm what was said, a last shred of loyalty that put a stranglehold on her heart.
As if her new benefactor had anticipated this very reaction, one of her new jumpsuits was set on the low table before her, boots and cleansing kit also ready. A door she had not previously seen was open in the wall, a compact refresher station visible through it. And next to that jumpsuit was a datapad, its gleaming surface displaying a schedule—her schedule. And according to it, she should be deep into study on the Chiss language.
That was followed by Core World art history, and that was followed by something called "rudimentary starship operations."
Following that was a two-hour meeting with the Grand Admiral for lunch.
Paging through the schedule revealed more of the same day after day. The only difference being the curriculum. Some days included physical training, zero-g maneuvers, target practice with different blaster types. Other days were more about art history, language, science. Very little on the mathematics, she thought with a surprising bit of disappointment. And nothing on starship maintenance or engineering.
It was enough to make her think she was in an Academy program again. An accelerated program without electives and precious—almost scarce—free time.
Kriff. That.
She tossed the pad back onto the table, scooping up her clothing and cleansing kit. She had a program of her own to conduct, and first on that list was a shower and some food. Following that, she'd decide if the next step was verification of everything he'd said, or if a confrontation was in order. She'd agreed to learn from him, but that did not mean she was signing on for a military education. There was a difference.
And if they were friends, as he'd made a point of stating time and again in their conversation, he was going to listen to her when she explained that difference.