Chapter I: A Happy Mistake

He held his palm against the smoking hole of his armor, blue blood pouring out between his talons as he crashed down onto the floor, hellish pain replaced by the much needed serenity of recently injected medi-gel. In the distance, far away shots and explosions echoed through the narrow streets of the city, each one sounding more dampened to his ears as his body desperately tried to make any sense out of this situation.

''So this is it. How about that ... ''

His weary eyesight wandered down to his Phaeston assault rifle. It stopped functioning a long time ago, the blood on its barrel serving as proof of its usage as an improvised melee weapon for the last couple of hours. If it wouldn't have been for his biotics, he'd probably be dead already. Yet if the pain in his muscles was any indication, any further usage of his biotics might as well get him killed as fast as the Reapers.

''After all the promises I made to you. Just ... damn it.''

With a wave of pain, his chest began to tramble as his cough conjured up more blood, its color acting as a strong contrast to his orange armor. He knew that he was wounded, but was it really that bad? He closed his eyes and sighed. It didn't matter now. Surrounded by nothing but ruin and chaos, he'd be nothing else than another footnote in the history of his unit. For months, he has watched as his brothers and sisters have fallen one after another, death after death becoming his personal unwanted companion as the specters of their memories haunted his every step. And now, it was his turn. Despite everything, however, a morbid smile danced over his lips. He'd die for the cause. After all the countless conflicts with his family, he'd die a good death worthy of a true son of Palaven.

And if it wouldn't have been for him, that alone would've been enough for him to die in peace.

''Guess you'll have to become ... what do your people call it again? Prime Minister? Well, you need to do that without me now, I'm afraid.''

Readying himself for the things to come, he took one last look at the necklace that embraced his neck. It was nothing special, at least not in a physical sense. But for him personally, it meant everything. It was the first gift he has ever gotten from him and Reapers be damned, he wasn't ashamed of crying in the moment of his death. This man was his world and they robbed him of it. He deserved this final emotional moment, no matter how pathetic it seemed.

''I love you. I love y - ''

The sound of sharp claws froze his bones. Husks, about half a dozen of them, started to climb up the wall, their soulless eyes hawking for their next prey to satisfy their bloodlust.

So that was it. That was really it.

2184 CE - 2 years before the Reaper War

Trevex scoffed in frustration, throwing the palms of his hands into his face as yet another message arrived for him, the needlessly high-pitched sound his terminal made with every received communication doing nothing but amplifying the headache that dominated his skull even further. And if that wouldn't have been enough, his stomach rumbled like a krogan, no doubt still trying to deal with the alcoholic onslaught it had to endure not even a few hours ago. It was one of those days, he darkly mused. He'd at least pretend to do his job until it was time for him to clock out, ironically granting him ample opportunity to repeat this cycle of self-inflicted misery as the week went on.

''Trevex, you got my message? I need it done ASAP.''

Between his fingers, he peeked towards his ''boss'', his arms crossed in front of his chest in a standoffish way. Oh, it definitely was going to be one of those days. Truth be told, he had no idea how exactly an actual racist managed to keep his job within C-Sec. Sometime after the Relay 314 Incident, numerous human veterans were introduced into its ranks, all in the name of advancing diplomacy and understanding between the Citadel races. A good idea, he freely admitted. Spirits knew anything that managed to reduce the mistrust between their people had his support, if only because it made his job as an officer considerably easier. The fewer cases of drunken patriots exchanging blows with each other he had, the better. But why in the name of creation the higher-ups tolerated this barefaced xenophobic bastard was quite frankly beyond him.

''Yes sir, I'll get it done.''

His parents would be proud of that one. Acting like it was expected of a good turian subordinate, he lowered his head in a respectful way in front of the human, secretly hoping that he'd take the cue and leave him alone. And he did, thank the spirits.

''Let's see what got you in such a frenzy, old man ... oh you got to be kidding me.'' Trevex exclaimed in hushed whispers as he read through the message, his headache pushing itself towards the front of his mind anew as he skimmed through the text.

This will take me all night.

Locking his terminal out, he stood up and stepped away from his chair, making his way to the bathroom before he ensured that nobody was inside. He groaned as he glared into the mirror, his tired face looking back at him in a way that made him even sicker. People used to tell him that his eyes reminded them of Palaven's green hills, whatever that meant. Those compliments, however, stopped ever since stepping foot onto the Citadel. His once lavish brown skin seemed to have lost its essence as well, given that right now, he looked more like one of those cheap Blasto play dolls than an actual turian. Only the purple colony markings stayed the same, two parallel lines dancing over his mandibles until they eventually met on his forehead. He was handsome once, or so he was made to believe. But to be fair, drunken hook-ups rarley told the truth.

A vibration from his wrist anchored him back into reality, his omni-tool igniting the dimly lit bathroom in orange light. It was the pre-installed VI informing him that his break was about to start. Trevex had to chuckle at that. One hour of freedom until he'd have to work deep into the night until he was allowed to go home? Only for him to return a couple of hours later?

Yay.

But he had to be a good subordinate. And damn the galaxy if anything came between him and his break. With haste behind his heels, he left both the bathroom and his office complex behind, his goal already set in mind as he hurried over to the elevator. As always, he'd crash in some bar or club and drown a couple of glasses, hoping that the alcoholic numbness would make this day somewhat bearable. Yet somehow, fate had a different thing in mind for him today. Trevex didn't know whether it was an honest mistake or something as ridiculously dramatic as a subconscious cry for help, but his finger missed the right elevator button by mere inches, accidentally choosing the Presidium over the Lower Wards.

''Come on! Spirits be damned, are you serious?!''

He grunted afresh as the elevator was already locked in its destination, cheap music blasting over its speakers as Trevex stood there like a varren in front of a headlight. As the lift opened, he put his hands in front of his face, the artificial light of the Presidium attacking his every sense as his stomach protested against its lower gravity. Not wishing to be locked into the elevator any longer than necessary, he quickly moved out of it and walked over to a nearby railing, putting his elbows against it before focusing on a nearby fountain. Trevex always liked being here. A C-Sec officer walking around wasn't an unusual sight and thus, people never tended to bother him much. It wasn't like the Wards were being at the wrong place at the wrong time could earn you plenty of trouble if you weren't careful. Here, he could simply be, something that he grew to appreciate ever since he started working here.

If only the bars here wouldn't cast half of my monthly paycheck.

Banishing that thought quickly, he walked down a set of stairs and activated his omni-tool, opening up a map of the local area. With less than an hour to spare, he chose one of the nearest restaurants, not caring what he got to drink as long as he got something warm and liquid into him at last. It took him about five minutes until he stood in front of some sort of tiny coffee shop, its open-air design not unlike those of the other restaurants nearby. What made it slightly different from the others, however, was that the usual synthetic Presidium floor was replaced with what had to be some sort of wood while its walls served as a host for many different sorts of paintings and pictures, all of them portraying numerous planets and trees in some fashion.

''Classy.'' he quietly muttered to himself before he entered, walking over towards the next empty table and activating his omni-tool, using its camera function to scan a code that was painted onto one of the menus. It opened up a version of it in his native tongue. That shop probably belonged to humans, Trevex deducted idly. Ignoring the few Asari that were thrown into the mix, he couldn't spot any other nonhuman except himself amongst the other customers. He had to confess that he was always fascinated with the speed humanity has integrated itself into the cultural system of the Citadel. Trevex was still young, having only recently grown 24 years old, but his mother - a well respected Hierarchy official working closely with some of the Primarchs - always ensured that that topic would come up in one way or another, mostly in a negative way. To say that it annoyed him to no ends would be an understatement. He knew he shouldn't blame her, given that it was probably only a result of the generation she was born in, but nobody was perfect - especially not him. And although he wouldn't be as foolish as to deny the rapid political advancement the Systems Alliance has achieved, Trevex couldn't stand the thought of his mother's patriotic ramble interrupting his every line of thought.

'' -ir, sorry. I asked if you were ready to order?''

Spirits.

Shaking himself awake, he faked a thin smile before he nodded.

''Yeah uhm, I'll take that ... dextro coffee thing with milk? Lat ... latter? Ladder?''

The waitress, a young woman with probably the pinkest strains of hair he has ever seen, gazed at him in a confused way before she snapped her fingers, pointing at one of the pictures on the menu.

''That one? Coming right up!''

Not understanding how anyone could be as joyful as her during the start of the week, he crossed his legs and sat back, enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the shop to the best of his abilities. He had about 35 minutes to spare, give or take. Enough time for him to relax somewhat. That was until his ears picked up another voice, this time coming from behind him.

''It's pronounced Caffé Latte, actually. But don't worry, I somehow manage to mess up the pronunciation as well on a daily basis - and my people had a part in cultivating that thing!''

Trevex almost fell out of his chair. He opened up his eyes and turned his upper body backward as far as his C-Sec issued armor allowed. It was a human, one that had a hair color that was as equally interesting as the young waitress from before. It was yellow - no, blonde they called it if he remembered correctly. Suntouched? Never mind what it was called, he rested his eyes on it longer than he probably should've, another smile quickly conjured up from nothingness ere he freaked the human out needlessly.

''Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.''

No it doesn't.

''No it doesn't.'' the human said followed by a light chuckle.

''Honestly, there are so many countless variations of coffee, it's hard to keep track. But I don't mind, far be it for me to say no to a challenge ... even if it's about remembering the nomenclature of beverages.'' he said with an everlasting smirk before he grabbed the menu, rolling his eyes playfully as he read through its content.

''Speaking off which ... '' he added ere his bright blue eyes looked at something in the distance.

It was the waitress, carrying a metal tablet with a glass of this coffee ''later'' on it - or whatever it was called.

''Ah well. Enjoy and have a nice day, alright?''

''You too.''

Though he was slightly taken aback by the human's friendly disposition, he didn't mind. On the contrary, actually. It wasn't a common occurrence that he was able to partake in such lighthearted small talk while he wore his uniform, especially with someone as friendly and lively as this human. For the first time today, Trevex didn't smile because it was expected off of him. He smiled because he genuinely felt like it.

With a light jagger in his steps, he made it back into the office with some time to kill. One of his fingers skipped over the holographic keyboard of his terminal before he entered his log-in credentials. Once more, his terminal began to peep, a flashing light signaling that a message arrived for him. Oddly enough, this one was addressed to his personal account. Knowing that he technically wasn't allowed to check up on his personal affairs while on the clock made this little act of rebellion somewhat sweater for him, even if it was only shortlived. The message was from his mother and the title made his stomach drop.

To: HELDEUS Trevex

From: HELDEUS Marathia

Subject: Official Invitation

I hope this message arrives in good tidings, son.

I'm pleased to announce that your brother has been given the grand honor of receiving the Ciptrine Award for Excellence in the Field. As expected, a ceremony of such grandeur requires a certain degree of coordination and rehearsing. Naturally, your presence is required on all of the to be announced dates, no matter how chaotic such endeavor must be. Your brother has achieved something only a few ever do, this should be plenty of reason for you to be there. The spirits of the family celebrate this and so should you, Trevex.

Be proud of him, despite your shortcomings.

You'll be personally informed on further pieces of information as the situation develops.

- Mother

Despite his shortcomings.

And thus, every tangible amount of joy that he had not mere seconds ago dissipated into nothing. How could it be that after all of those years, those words still hurt as much as they did ever since he was a little child? Shouldn't he have been used to being the disappointment of his family by now? Rocking his head angrily, he closed the messenger and began to work, preferring the mindless tasks of C-Sec over the stinging words of his mother.

AN: Wait, this isn't Star Wars. What's going on? Where are Cal, Merrin and Trilla?

Don't worry, calm down. Nothing has happened to Star Wars, it's still there - and it got two updates in the last 48 hours!

I wanted to try something new, something that had a lighter tone, at least on the surface. I realllly just wanted to write something where romance would meet drama ... and yeah. Also it's Mass Effect.

Our Fallen Sister will still be my main story, true. The next chapter is already 50% done and it's going to be wild. But I just wanted to try my hands at this. No galaxy-changing horrors (not yet) and endless torture - something more personal. Emotional. Caring. And something so so so sweet 3

And yeah, I'm still working on that Miranda/Shep fic. Stay tuned!