:: Chapter Twenty Three ::
Entry 1296 of volume four.
I have not written in a long time but I have nowhere else to take these thoughts. It is the year 3641 now, I'm in my 335th year of life and I have finally found her—Arielle—the Jedi woman from my vision. The woman whose eyes I have dreamed of for over three hundred years.
She is much younger than I had imagined, only twenty years old and far more devoted to the Jedi way than I would have expected from one with such darkness inside of her. It appears she is not even aware of her own ties to the Dark Side and whenever I raise the subject, she simply laughs at me and tells me 'You wish'. She's extremely stubborn, always asking for my advice before doing the exact opposite of what I say but we do get along and I find I am not at all bothered by her presence.
Her crew, however, is an entirely different matter.
The doctor she travels with, 'Doc', perfectly exemplifies the importance of birth control and I feel quite tempted to reprogram or disassemble her obnoxious service droid. Her astromech, Teeseven, isn't as bad but I miss having a decent HK-unit around. The Chagrian rarely speaks which I can appreciate and then there is her Padawan, Kira, a former Child of the Emperor. Imperial born and not nearly as devoted to the Jedi Code as Arielle. I do find it curious the Emperor never sent me to retrieve or execute her since she is a former Child but perhaps he imagined he still had a use for her. I should keep an eye out regardless.
The Sith Emperor himself has been defeated though I remain wary. There are days I still feel him torment my mind and I am plagued by nightmares, finding myself once more subject to the agony of his immortality ritual. It is on those nights I awake to the sound of my own screams and find her, Arielle, sat by my side with concern in her eyes. I know she has nightmares of her own and we are forever bound by the mark Vitiate has left upon us both.
There is another matter too, however, one that leaves me rather confused. Lately, I find that in her presence, the pain I carry with me abates and the sound of her laughter scarcely makes me aware of the beating of my heart—an experience I am no longer accustomed to. I know I can never be cured and it is impossible I experience anything other than my own agony and yet, when she is near, something within me changes.
We enjoy many conversations late at night and she has begun making a habit of staying up, knowing I will visit. When she sleeps by my side, there are no nightmares and I do look forward to those moments. I have seen in her eyes that she does too. I would venture to guess under any other circumstances, one might suggest certain affections play a part in the bond we have together but I am simply not capable of such sentiments.
I had never expected to remain at her side following the Emperor's fall but when the Jedi Order and Senate sought to dismiss me, Arielle fought for me. It was a rare occasion that I have ever seen her with such fury and passion. I now even dare say should the Order force a choice between them and myself, they would lose, and a part of me would delight to see them try. The Grand Master knows it too, I believe and has wisely not pushed the matter further.
I still languish in my torment and with my original purpose fulfilled, I don't know what my life will be going forward. I have pledged myself to Arielle and I will renew my vow should she bear any children. I imagine that is my future, for however long this immortal life keeps me tethered to this world—a stalwart guardian and a tutor to her offspring.
Though, if that is to happen I should first coax her into a position where she will embrace the pleasures of life. Love, passion, those attachments her asinine Order warns against. Right now she is convinced she has no need for such things and is happy with the way things are but she can be so naive, so innocent bordering on ignorant. Perhaps that could serve as my purpose for now, awakening the woman within the girl.
Alas, I must leave this entry as is for now—we're about to land on Ilum and my Jedi needs me.
— Lord Scourge
A gentle smile lingered on Eliza's face as she finished reading and held the page close to her chest. They were days from so long ago but she remembered every moment and treasured the words he'd written down.
'Thank you, Scourge, for chronicling your life…' she considered wistfully.
At least twenty some odd leatherbound journals lay scattered across the bed while she sat up in the middle of the pile and she'd busily been taking notes on her datapad of anything she deemed helpful. She let a deep sigh escape her lips, took her stylus pen between her teeth and bound her hair up in a loose bun.
It had been almost a week since the events on Asylum and she was recovering nicely. She used her time in bed to dig through the journals left to her by her grandfather, by Lord Scourge, and a few, mostly battle-related, diaries written by Darth Marr's hand in vain hope at least one of them might tell her something new, especially concerning the Sith Emperor.
"Hey, are you…" Theron returned to the room, carrying everything he'd brought to Odessen with him but he stopped in the doorway and frowned.
"Did I miss study hour?"
She chuckled. "No, just… looking for something. What were you going to ask?"
"Oh. If you're sure you want me moving into your room?"
"Absolutely. You're always here anyway, I want you by my side at all times and we could use the space it'll free up in your room."
"Okay. I promise I'm no slob."
"Yeah, right." Eliza laughed and put her datapad down to help him roll a cargo crate into her room. "I remember your Nar Shaddaa apartment."
He flashed her a grin in response but then quickly ushered her out of the way. "Here, let me, I can do it by myself and I don't want you straining too much."
"Pff, please, I'm pretty much fully healed by now." She lifted her shirt up some and ran a hand over her stomach.
"See?"
"Uhh… yeah…" he stammered.
His eyes lingered and for a second, uncomfortable silence threatened to fall. In all their time together, both in the past and in the present, they'd yet to be intimate with each other and though Theron was respectful of her much needed recovery period and the upsets she'd gone through, it was becoming increasingly harder to quell his own desires.
"Still, I've got this and you seem busy." He rolled the crate past her and indicated at the pile of books. "What were you looking for?"
"Same as always—answers. Vitiate said something during my fight with Vaylin and, I can't seem to put it from my mind."
"Oh?"
"He pointed out that my gift would not work against her, nor Arcann, as they share his blood and it got me wondering—why is it my gift won't work on him, or anyone in his bloodline? And how can they be part of his bloodline if he occupied a host-body?"
She climbed back into bed and folded her legs into a lotus sit. "Why did my grandfather warn me of using the gift against Vitiate and how exactly did it allow him to enter my being?"
Theron frowned, dragging the last duffel bag inside. "You think there's something tying you both together?"
"Possibly. Both our family lines go back so far into history… from Scourge's notes, I've learned the Emperor was once a Pureblood by the name of Tenebrae, born on Medriaas which he later renamed Nathema after he conquered the planet."
"Did you guys ever rediscover Nathema?"
"No. Scourge returned from his exploration mission early when Ziost came under attack."
"Have you asked Senya?"
"I did but she knows nothing of his life as Vitiate—she didn't even know about the Sith Empire or his double life until we came knocking."
"Hrm. Well, perhaps that ritual will provide some answers, yeah?"
"I hope so." She nodded.
"I just wish I could speak with my grandfather too. I still have that Holocron belonging to my family and, I need to know more like with Cyara for instance—does she possess the gift too, is it selective or won't it manifest until I'm no longer around?"
"You should schedule the ritual as soon as possible if you feel well enough," he suggested, trying not to sound too eager about it but he had curiosities of his own and secrets weighing on his heart.
"Already working on it, Praven's just waiting to hear back from an old friend of his. The ritual is in ancient Sith and he wants to make sure he has the correct translation so nothing goes wrong."
"Now… you don't actually have to marry either of them, right?"
Eliza arched a brow and flashed him an amused smile. "No. Turns out that while the ritual was mostly performed as part of matrimonial services, marriage is not an actual requirement."
"Lucky that."
He started unpacking a few essentials while Eliza stacked the books and pushed them into a chest under her bed before sprawling out, laying on her side with her head resting in her palm and she watched him.
"You can do that stuff later," she said after a while, a coy pout lingering on her lips while she held out an inviting hand, "Come and join me?"
"Mm, are you alright?" He worried she suddenly may not be feeling well or be bothered by her injuries still.
"I feel wonderful but, it's my last day of bedrest and I'd like to spend it with your arms around me."
A soft grin came over him when she beckoned him a second time and he got up, kicking his shoes off while he sauntered over to the bed they now shared.
With great ease, he scooped her into his arms where he kissed her fervently, capturing her lips with his own before they both sank back down against the silken sheets. He held her to him, treasured, and teased a lock of hair from her forehead.
"Some days I still cannot believe my luck of finally having you by my side," he spoke softly, whispering in her ear.
The tender touch of his lips trailed down her neck, nipping playfully while he inhaled the scent of her hair and delighted in the warmth of her skin.
"Neither can I." Eliza sighed with bliss and she could feel her adoration for him transcend.
His reaction earlier when she'd lifted her shirt hadn't escaped her notice and while they hadn't discussed intimacy at all, Eliza felt it too. The urge to be with him, to take that next step in their relationship even if it made her feel nervous and shy at the same time—her longing for him was just too great.
While holding his gaze and drowning herself in the vast depths of his golden-brown eyes, she took his hand and brought it up to her mouth. Puckering her lips to trail lithe kisses from his wrist up to the palm of his hand, over to his pinky, adoring each fingertip until she found the soft pad of his thumb which she sucked playfully.
A shiver coursed down Theron's spine and he felt an all too familiar twitch in his jeans, his arousal stirred anew, and he held his breath watching her every move. To his surprise, she brought his hand back down and guided it underneath her oversized t-shirt while giving him an encouraging smile.
In the past, he'd never gone beyond caressing the small of her back or running a hand over her stomach but now, his fingers teased higher over her skin to the lining of her bra and still, their eyes remained locked. He heard her gasp and felt one of her nipples harden when he cupped her breast and massaged his thumb over the fabric of her undergarment.
"Mmm… love," he uttered while he felt his desire rise past the point of return, having spent so long wanting her in every imaginable way, "Are you sure you're ready?"
A coquettish smile curled her lips and she sat up in bed, nodding. With ease she discarded her t-shirt, showing off the silvery-blue and partially lace bra she wore, the mounds of her breasts threatening to spill over their constrictions while her nipples protruded through the satin fabric.
"More than ready," she assured him and held her breath for a moment, abating the tinge of nervousness she felt.
Encouraged, and more confident in knowing she was now ready to take the next step, Theron leaned in and brushed her lips with his own again while his index finger hooked under one of the shoulder straps of her bra and slid the elastic band down her arm.
He did the same thing for the other strap and while his fingers worked the clasp on her back, his mouth traveled down her cleavage to welcome every newly discovered part of her. His lips capturing one of the nipples he'd exposed when he removed her bra completely, teasing, drawing circles with his tongue and he held her close to him.
"You're so beautiful."
His words sounded like music to her ears and yet, unwittingly, Eliza glanced down to count every scar on her body. Became aware of every little, in her eyes, imperfection—the marks giving birth had left her with, the fact her tummy wasn't quite as flat and firm as it once was.
Those things never bothered her before, they'd never made her feel self-conscious but with him, she was vulnerable now, so vastly different from her encounters with Ravage.
To his credit, though, he noticed her sudden insecurity and tipped her chin up. "You are."
When she still said nothing, only flashing him a smile and responding with a subtle blush, he kissed her again, passionately to substantiate his words and he urged her back down against the sheets.
"I'm not perfect, my body isn't…" she breathed at last and struggled to look him in the eye, her fluster deepening by the second.
"Eliza, I don't want perfect," he said.
Just beneath the swell of her left breast, he found one of the scars she'd glanced at and he kissed her there too, along its full length and adoringly as if the scar was as precious to him as she was herself.
"I want you, exactly as you are. With each scar, every dip and every curve, every beautiful blemish on your body because I love you, all of you."
He promised her and with each promise, he touched his lips to another one of her imperfections until he'd cherished them all. Once more he turned his attention to her supple mounds and he allowed himself to delight in how shapely they felt in his hands, how soft they were under his lips and he breathed in her natural scent when he found her neck again.
"I—I love you, too…" Her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes, fighting off the well of emotions rising within her, mixing with her growing lust.
In the past, and again in recent months, she'd often imagined what the first time, or any time, with him would be like. She'd enjoyed vivid and passionate fantasies where they'd torn each other's clothes off and made love as if the galaxy was about to be annihilated and in other moments, their lovemaking had been tender and slow to savor each passing second but none of her fantasies compared to what she felt now—reality already proved to be far superior.
She gasped when his hand caressed down her stomach, his fingers playing over her bikini line causing her body to writhe against him. "Theron…"
"Mm?" He gazed up at her and she noticed the crimson on his cheeks now, his eyes darkened from his own budding desires.
"I need you," she pleaded and her voice broke with heavy sentiment and yearning.
The strings of her pajama bottoms untangled and Theron eased the soft fabric down her thighs and legs, followed by her panties before he made his way back up to her lips. He kissed her feverishly and gazed into her sparkling blues.
"Are you alright?" He saw the light glistening of her eyes and he'd heard the emotion resonate in her words.
"I am… it's just… it's you and me, and us, at last…"
"I know, I feel it too."
"I never thought we'd get here but… we are and I'm, oh I love you so much," she sighed out and kissed him hard, almost devouring his lips with her own.
Her arms folded around his shoulders and she urged him onto his back, rolling the both of them over and now it was her turn to explore his body. The body she'd admired before from a distance, that had made her blush each time she'd fantasized about him and that was now all hers to delight in.
She was quick to unbutton his shirt and Theron lifted his hips when she unfastened the closing of his jeans, wrestling the not-so supple fabric down his legs. The hardening bulge inside his boxers begged to be freed and sprung up gratefully when she obliged.
A part of her felt desperate to explore him, to run her tongue along his thighs and take him in her mouth but her own arousal was already too vast to hold out much longer and by the looks of it, Theron wouldn't be able to last either so instead she moved to straddle his lap.
Instantly he sat up and wrapped her in his arms while her legs curled around his waist. He sought her lips out again, hungrily and aching for her now and he ran a hand down between their bodies to tease her slick and moistened folds, swallowing the moan she poured into his mouth.
Theron positioned himself at her opening, catching her gaze once more and he held it while she sank herself down to welcome him finally. Slow and deliberate, savoring every second, every inch and a silent gasp escaped her when he fully buried himself inside of her.
She held still, snaking one arm around his lower back and the other embraced his shoulder, her hand at the back of his head weaving her fingers into his thick and luscious hair. She relished in the way she could feel him pulsing within her center, quietly begging her for more, sending a fierce shudder coursing through her body and Eliza began rolling her hips slow and steadily atop his lap.
Words stayed out and only the occasional grunt and moan accompanied the rhythm of their bodies entwined, the passion soaring between them. Melting together in a tight embrace to at last conquer the next step in their relationship. The ecstasy dominating their bodies crescendoed higher, riding the waves of their lust and undying devotion to each other, taking them to the brink and beyond until both were sated and spent.
