The Empress: part 2
By: Kimmy Malfoy
Rated PG- 13 for darkness
Her long green gown flowed behind her in an
exquisitely detailed train. The tears formed in her eyes. How she hated them,
every last one. They had abandoned her, left her here on this world, alone. She
looked to the stars every night whispering her disdain for them, the crew she
had trusted. They let her go they didn't fight for her. She hustled past the
servants, her new crew, and her new family. There he stood, tall proud, dressed
in black to counter her own emerald color. Her eyes burned with tears; there he
stood, her husband, the man who had forced this fate upon her. But they didn't
care. A lone tear found its way down her cheek; twisting and
turning at every line that had formed since she had arrived. The last
few months had rendered many a gray hair that permeated her auburn color. Her
hair was twisted in curls, decorated with tiny white flowers, all arranged
around her sparkling diamond crown. Why was she here? Why did he let her
go? "Don't look back" she heard the voice whisper. She looked to sky, knowing
he was out there and whispered to the stars "I hate you, you traitor, I hate
you..." she didn't mean it, not a single word, and that night she would cry for
her lost love, she would weep in despair for her first officer, she would weep
for Chakotay.
"My love" he says looking into her eyes, taking
her hand "we are to be at the banquet soon." She looked up at the tall, pale
figure that stood before her, he was so different from him, from
the man she loved. His slender, cold fingers grasped hers like a snake
curls about its prey. She froze at his touch, as she had done the moment she
became his wife. She had saved Voyager and her crew, but had sacrificed
herself, her love and had become the queen to this wretch of a king. Another
tear fell, she knew that she would never return home, never be with her family
again. He looked down at her slender form and kissed her cheek. His icy lips
seared her skin as he kissed her tears. "Why do you cry my dear? Are you not
happy here?" his voice was smooth and foreboding, threatening her, daring her
to counter his question, daring her to respond. She merely smiled up at him "I
am happy, my lord, happy that I am yours." His devilish grin burned through her
eyes. "I am glad that you know your place." She knew her place she was
subservient. She was nothing but his whore who put on a gown and faced the
throngs of eager men and women, the masses who adored their new queen who would
produce an heir. She grimaced at the thought, he had
reduced her, Captain Kathryn Janeway, to nothing but
a slave, catering to his wish, being driven by his demands, being tortured by
his madness.
The night came quickly. The moon engulfed the
sun as Kathryn sat facing the window of the banquet hail. She belonged up
there, watching the moon and the stars, not sitting here, trapped by formality
and protocol. How ironic it was to curse the ideals she once held so dear.
Protocol had ruined her here, reduced her to a machine that functioned the same
way from morning to night, always with the same calculated responses. The
clouds covered the moon as he walked over to her. She knew that tonight would
be no different than the others. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.
They waltzed, never speaking, never once moving close to each other. The
distance, the formality, it was all so dry and pedantic. The dance
ended and he grasped her arni tightly and she knew
what would transpire. They formally exited the banquet room, and he took her to
his room, and as he did every night ordered her to be a submissive whore and be
his lover yet again. She tried not to cry as he assaulted her; it was easier
now, now that this had been going on for three months. She was used to his
cruelty. She tried to think of Chakotay, and how
gently he had kissed her goodbye, as this terror of a man tortured her. Each
morning was worse than the night. They would go to the doctor, and he would
inevitably tell them that Kathryn was not pregnant. Then he would grab her and
take her to his room and beat her. The dresses that she wore covered the
bruises, all except one. The scar on her forehead would forever remind her of
him, this bastard who took pleasure in hitting her, every day. She dreaded his
wrath. It was rather funny to her, how she was afraid of a skinny man when she
had faced down the Borg and come face to face with Hirogen.
But he had been there, her pillar of strength, the man who would never let her
be irrational, her gentle warrior who pledged his life
and allegiance to her. She looked the mirror. Her eyes were glossy, the life
was gone, her skin was pale, her hair disheveled. How awful she looked, how
dreadful she felt. She opened her drawer. She was confined to her room everyday
until the evening when the whole cycle would repeat.
His smile glared at her. Tom had taken this picture. They were on shore leave,
five months ago, and he was looking at her, his eyes sparkling, his dimples
reflecting his happiness. Kathryn looked at herself. She was content as she
held his arm, her eyes dancing as she looked into his, her smile beautiful and
she could here his laugh, that infectious sound. She held the picture close to
her chest and collapsed onto the bed in a pathetic heap. She was defeated; she
did not have the energy to go on. She just couldn't take the pain. She needed
him, to hold her, to tell her that she was beautiful, that she was strong, that they would be together no matter what. She fell asleep
dreaming of his touch, and his smile. She awoke to a pounding on her door. He
wanted her again, she dreaded this moment when he would tell her to get dressed
and meet him for dinner. The saucy sweetness of his words sickened her. She
opened the door and looked to the ground. A hand reached for her chin, to lift
her face. She closed her eyes as the tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
She braced herself for the iciness of his touch.
His skin touched hers, and she shuddered, but
his skin was not cold. It was warm, full of life and she opened her eyes,
knowing that it could not be him, She saw a tan hand
move gently up her face. She looked up to see who this man was, to see who
dared touch the queen this way. Her eyes widened as she saw the face of the man
who held her so tenderly. 'Chakotay" she whispered as
she looked into his eyes. She exhaled the breath she was unaware she had been
holding and moved into his arms. She suddenly became self- conscious. She was
thinner than before, he would notice that when he held her. She shrunk back
from his embrace and turned her face away, back into the shadows of her room so
he would not be able to see her like this, weak and abused. He grabbed her
hand, gently as not to hurt her, but forceful enough so she knew not to move
away. "Captain, Kathryn, look at me, let me see your
face." She whimpered a bit as she turned into the light. The black and blue
markings and the dried blood on her lip struck Chakotay
like photon torpedo. He took her hands and lifted them to his lips, only to
find that small cuts lingered all over her hands. His look of shock quickly
turned to one of remorse. He took her into his arms and both of them began to
cry. Chakotay kissed her hair and forehead over and
over as he whispered her name. "Who did this to you Kathryn my love, who?" She
looked up into his eyes and whispered "He did" She couldn't even bear to call
her husband by his name. It was too painful; he did not deserve to have a name,
nor the kindness of any of his people. "The king?" The
Indian's soft voice comforted her, shielded her from the terror that lurked in
the shadows of the palace. Chakotay's arms protected
her from the snake that approached from behind. "Leave off of her, or I'll kill
her" his slimy voice crooned. "If you touch her, you won't live to see the sun rise you filthy bastard." Chakotay's
voice was calm and reserved. "Leave Kathryn alone".
She put her hand on his arm, and managed to choke out a few words. "Please, Chakotay, don't do this, I can't bear to have you killed. ." her voice drifted as she
collapsed into his arms. Her eyes closed as she fell against his body. He
lifted her up and tapped his commbadge. "Harry, two to transport directly to sickbay." The small
voice replied "Aye sir" The sulking snake, Kathryn's husband turned to face the
blue beams that faded away and he laughed. She was just one of the women in the
Delta Quadrant, there were many more that he could
torment. Just then he turned to face the blue beams again and felt a searing
pain through his chest. A phaser.
He was dying and he cursed the tan skinned man and the woman for her insolence.
He collapsed, a heap on the floor, dead.
Chakotay stood by
Kathryn as the doctor examined her wounds. The doctor shook his head as he ran
the tricorder over the sleeping Captain. "Well
Commander, it seems that the Captain has sustained much damage to her person.
She has two broken ribs, massive bruising to her entire body, not to mention a
rather large size gash on her forehead and mal nourishment. She's in bad shape
sir, but there's nothing that I can't fix, except for one thing. She has most
likely received massive psychological damage and that takes time to repair.
She'll need someone she trusts to be by her side, someone logical..." Chakotay took her hand and looked down at her battered
form. "I'll get Tuvok." Just then Kathryn's eyes
fluttered open. "No." she said quietly. "No, I want you to be there for me, you
always have been..." Chakotay leaned down and kissed
her cheek as the doctor sedated the weak Captain.
Two months later she stood on the bridge and stared out at the moving stars. Slowly she turned to face Tom Paris and in her most Captain- like voice she took a deep breath and stated: "Set a course of home Mr. Paris" and she heard it, the words that she had not heard for five months, "Aye, Aye captain." She looked toward her first officer and smiled at him. He had helped her overcome her darkest fears, her nightmares and she knew now that she had always loved him and always would. Forever. She turned her back on the view screen and sat in her chair. "Welcome back, Captain" she smiled at Chakotay and took his hands in hers, leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. "Mr. Paris," he turned to face her as the authority in her voice returned she knew she was finally back where she belonged. "Engage