Chapter Summary: Empress Acina instills new order in the Empire. Vestra chafes under its limits, Lana has plans of her own - neither says what they truly need.

[Ceasefire with Zakuul. New Dark Council established by Empress Acina.]


"Resources won't be an issue, Krovos. Vowrawn has seen to it."

"Our forces will have all they need for battle, despite the…limitations. You have my word," Vowrawn spoke at Acina's gesture. "Besides, the Republic is similarly handicapped. It will pose an interesting challenge, will it not?"

"Indeed. I shall relish it." Krovos nodded, and looked to Acina. "I withdraw my concern, for now."

"Good. Was there anything else?" Empress Acina's eyes swept across the Council chambers, scrutinising five seats among twelve that were still occupied, and lingered on one. "Avriss, you have been quiet today. Yet I know you have similar concerns."

A blade, pressed deliberately against the thin thread left of her patience. Avriss met Acina's eyes, and smiled sweetly despite the clear impatience in her demeanour.

"I do. But I have chosen to place my trust in your wisdom."

"My wisdom is informed by yours," Acina replied drily. "But I appreciate your confidence. If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed."

Avriss rose from her seat, sparing not a single glance at the reformed Council, and strode towards the exit while the rest seemed to linger. Heavy durasteel doors slid open for her, and Khem Val fell in behind Avriss, from where he'd stood guard outside the chamber. Amid the quiet thud of Khem's armoured feet, Avriss heard the doors slide shut behind them – but not before subtle footsteps left the chambers as well, following after her.

"My dear Avriss," Vowrawn drawled, catching up to them as they walked to the lifts. "You are unhappy, I can tell."

"What gave it away? My frown or my glare?"

"Actually, it was your fingers, just itching to wring Acina's neck."

"How astute," Avriss replied with wry amusement. "You are right, I am unhappy. And it is because my fingers did not reach her neck."

Vowrawn chuckled. "Don't begrudge her for our position, Avriss. She is backed into a corner, making hard decisions none of us wish to make ourselves."

He had adopted the tone of a patient grandfather. Whether intentional or not, it grated on Avriss' nerves. "If I wanted to be a slave again, Vowrawn, I'd simply put a collar on my neck and be done with it."

"Ah, but you understand the spirit of the action. There is a collar on your neck, yet you still live. And when you live–"

"Do not lecture me with what I know, Vowrawn," Avriss cut him off, before she started to begrudge the only Councilor she could tolerate at the moment.

"Then it is your pride feeding your anger."

"We are Sith, my dear. Everything feeds our anger."

The corner of his mouth lifted in an impish smirk. "Play coy if you must, lovely. I have you figured out."

"Then I will have to feed you to my Dashade."

"Please. You adore me too much to do that." Vowrawn looked back at Khem Val, who followed dutifully in his master's footsteps. "And how are you, Khem Val? I imagine you were one of the few to enjoy the war."

"It was a true test of strength," Khem Val rumbled. "How it ended is a shame upon the Empire."

Vowrawn laughed, a low rasp in his throat. "Careful now. You might give away all the secret thoughts your master wishes to keep hidden."

Avriss shot him a withering glance as they reached the lifts, and Khem leaned over to tap the controls.

"All joking aside – I am serious, Avriss. Give Acina the benefit of the doubt – she has taken control at an incredibly…trying time. See where she steers us before casting your judgement in stone, at least."

"You are awfully supportive of the one who talked you into bending knee to the child emperor."

Vowrawn's lips tightened, deep red eyes narrowing by a fraction. But his features quickly relaxed into a smile, smoothing over the minute lapse. "Like I said – decisions none of us wish to make." He fell silent, allowing the grind of gears to announce the lift's imminent arrival.

"Dinner tonight, Avriss? Just you and me."

She glanced at him, brow rising at the sudden switch in topic. He met her questioning gaze and tilted his head, amiable expression unwavering.

"Still trying to date me, Vowrawn?"

"Always, my dear."

His gaze grew fond, and Avriss felt a stab of regret for her jab at him. "Wine?"

"Plenty."

She mirrored his genial smile. "Then I'm yours."

"Wonderful," Vowrawn crooned, the teasing lilt of his voice ending well before the rest of the Council joined them at the lifts.

Avriss turned her head, looking over the new Councilors. Krovos stood at the forefront, a familiar figure to Avriss – and a trustworthy one, who'd been instrumental in coordinating the Ministry of War with Avriss' sphere during Zakuul's invasion. She'd earned the title of Darth many times over, though Avriss remained wary of what she might do with this new power. Krovos nodded, and she returned the gesture, even as her eyes wandered to the two standing behind Krovos' broad physique.

Darth Xarion was a mystery beneath his inscrutable black mask, but his identity was made known to Avriss after she'd purred in the right ear. His service record was stellar, if dull and near-identical to his peers' dossiers in their rise to power and inter-Sith conflicts. She wondered if Xarion knew of her connection to the minister under his command, and how deeply she could get under his skin by bypassing his authority over Sith Intelligence. Only time would tell.

Darth Malora's name had piqued Avriss' interest when she first received the new Council's roster. After a bit of digging, Avriss traced Malora back to that apprentice in the Korriban Academy, who'd sought Vestra's aid to sabotage her master's inane experiments. Malora had changed much since then, now barely recognisable with her genetic modifications, which manifested as faint ridges on the edges of her face. Their eyes met, but she could find no hint of recognition in Malora's piercing yellow gaze. Avriss hid a smile and broke off the stare, content to be a stranger for now.

"Lord Vowrawn, Lord Avriss. It was a promising discussion, don't you think?" Krovos said.

"Oh? Was it now?" Vowrawn replied cordially, lifting his brows in a clear invitation for her to continue.

"Yes. We have much work ahead of us, but it is to rebuild us. Revitalise us. I hope we can work well together."

Her meaning was veiled, but clear. As a former apprentice of Darth Decimus, and with experience working alongside Darth Marr and Darth Malgus, Krovos was a veteran well-aware of the old Council's bloody politics, perhaps longer than Avriss had been. At any other time, from another mouth, Avriss would've read it as a challenge, or a taunt. But Krovos was sincere, and her work ethic strongly reminiscent of Darth Marr's – blunt, yet lethal as a hammer.

"For my sanity, I hope we do," Avriss said flatly, stepping on the lift while Vowrawn broke into a laugh.


With a new Council in place and clear direction given by Empress Acina, Lana had spent the entire day hidden within the deepest bowels of the Ministry of Intelligence, accompanied by Keeper and dozens of readouts as they sorted through a multitude of operations to be set into motion.

By the time she returned home, the moon and stars ruled the skies over Kaas City, their silvery glow illuminating the penthouse through its windows. Though the crew had retired to their rooms, Lana treaded quietly through the living area, casting a glance at the clawed feet sticking out from under the stairs, where Khem Val slept. The Dashade often complained of the 'extreme luxury' of the penthouse's bedrooms, so Vestra had converted the closet under the staircase into a cozy den for him, complete with a bunk, locker, and a holopic of the crew on a square durasteel coffee table.

Khem Val's foot twitched as she climbed up the stairs, but otherwise remained still. Stifling a yawn in the palm of her glove, Lana strolled down the corridor, but her yearning thoughts of the bath were interrupted when she sensed an intense focus in the training room. She came to a stop at its door, puzzled by Vestra's presence. Her escapades with Vowrawn usually lasted til the early hours of the morning, and left her drunkenly stumbling face down into the bed. Or the floor, if her aim was particularly atrocious.

Curious, Lana entered the room and found Vestra standing blindfolded, surrounded by six spherical training remotes – all firing shots in overlapping patterns at speedy frequencies that left little room to breathe, demanding perfect accuracy. Vestra swung a red-bladed lightsaber around herself in tight arcs – a pure, condensed expression of the Soresu form, which she had been weak at before Ashara's guidance. Now her mastery of the form was much better, though the bruises on her bare arms revealed room for improvement. That, or she should learn to use more caution in training.

Lana shook her head; Vestra wasn't wearing training leathers, only a tank top and cloth pants. If the intensity of her bruises was any indication, the training remotes were using modified rounds that delivered hard stings rivalling shots from an actual blaster – a 'quirk' of Vestra's droids that Lana had discovered through unpleasant surprise when she'd first used the training room herself.

As she watched, Vestra seemed to tire and lose focus. Sweat dripped from her face, stray locks from her ponytail clung to her jaw, and her tank top was stained dark with effort. One shot penetrated her saber swings, then another, and another. The flaws in her form cascaded, her heavy breaths turned erratic amid growing pain, and the amount of shots biting into her flesh worried even Lana.

But as Lana stepped forward, Vestra lost her temper with a guttural shout; her hand cut sharply through the air, and lightning surged from her fingertips. The training remotes were hurled away from her, landing unceremoniously across the room, spitting sparks and faint trails of smoke. Vestra stood in place, panting from exertion and anger, then flung her lightsaber hilt across the room – where it ricocheted off the chest of a training dummy and clattered to the floor.

Lana's eye twitched, but she noticed that it was Vestra's spare hilt. Of course. No matter how much she tried to ignore her Sith lineage, Vestra treated Kallig's hilt like a precious heirloom, and could never bring herself to toss it carelessly on a furious impulse.

Vestra ripped her blindfold off, blinking to focus on Lana. Anger still shone in her eyes, though nowhere near as potent as the emotion radiating off her. But even through the tumult, she seemed to take pause at Lana's presence, looking her over.

"Long day?" she asked, wiping a hand across her brow.

"Very," Lana replied simply, following Vestra to a corner of the room, where she sat heavily on a stack of unused gym mats. "You're back early. I thought you had a date with Vowrawn."

Vestra grunted, grabbing a water bottle and draining half of it in one go.

"I assume you didn't have fun?"

"Oh, we did," Vestra sighed, parched throat refreshed with water. "We ate and drank a lot. Then he brought me home, showed me his new toy. This gaudy eyesore of a hookah pipe he got from a Hutt he made a deal with. Had some strong herbs to go with it. One puff and–" She made a sound through her lips. "–I was gone. Just like that."

"Really. You don't look intoxicated to me."

"I was. But then he called some whores over, and it got obnoxiously loud. I took a stim to clear my head and got out of there."

Lana tilted her head, arms crossed, as Vestra rubbed at her eyes, exhaustion finally settling into her face. She leaned back on her hands and stared out the window, a shadow passing over her weary expression.

"It was unbearable, Lana. The look in his eyes…it was pitiful," she whispered. "Like an addict desperate for the next spice hit so he can forget the hell he lives in."

Lana waited, but Vestra didn't seem inclined to continue, lost in thoughts as faraway as her gaze. Walking over to join Vestra on the mats, Lana set a hand on her knee, drawing Vestra from her brooding. Eyes oddly empty, she stared at Lana's hand in silence, then took it in both her own. Vestra massaged her through the glove absentmindedly, rubbing the back of her wrist and up to her knuckles, before coming to herself and cocooning Lana's hand in hers.

"Were you at the Ministry the entire time?"

"Yes," Lana said, following wherever Vestra steered, even if it was an obvious attempt at distraction. "Darth Xarion has plenty of ideas and the eagerness to match. We are laying extensive groundwork for upcoming operations."

"Any juicy details you'd like to share?"

"That would be unprofessional, love," Lana sighed, rising to her feet. "But I might let slip a thing or two if I receive a very good massage in the bath."

Vestra's lips parted into a lopsided grin, and she stood when Lana tugged at her hand. "You'll let slip more than a thing or two when I'm done with you."


Lana had gotten much better at predicting her lover's stormy arrivals, due in part to the fact that Vestra cared less about concealing her dark moods while on the approach nowadays. She knew Darth Avriss was on the way long before an agent had commed ahead, warning that the Dark Lord had just barged through the Ministry's main entrance.

Usually she would receive Avriss the way she would receive any other Councilor – on her feet, shoulders straight with hands clasped behind her back, ready to deal with yet another demand made of the Ministry. But she knew the reason for Avriss' visit this time, and remained seated, bracing herself for what was to come.

It didn't take long before Darth Avriss strode into the office, expression dark as she felt. Waiting for the doors to slide shut behind her, Avriss touched her ear, then made a cutting motion with her hand. Lana shook her head – there were no listening devices to disable – but Avriss remained silent, starting to pace before her desk instead of launching into a tirade as Lana had expected.

"I assume it did not go well?" Lana prodded.

"No. Sabotage is out of the question for now, and Acina is sitting on the idea of seeding spies in Zakuul."

"Understandable. The few we'd sent during the invasion are dead. It would be wise to wait for a less…paranoid time, when they have lowered their defences."

Avriss' lips curled in displeasure, but she said nothing, continuing to pace with her eyes fixed on the floor. She'd just had a private meeting with Acina, an attempt to sway the Empress into taking subtle measures against Zakuul behind the spectacle of a renewed war with the Republic. Avriss hadn't expected the Empress to be receptive – Acina was erring on the side of caution in this new, unbalanced landscape – but her palpable disappointment hinted at the hope she had harboured regardless.

The acidic touch to her anger faded as seconds passed, and Avriss spoke without halting in her tracks. "She also reminded me that espionage is the domain of Darth Xarion, and that I should concern myself with digging in the dirt and preaching doctrine instead."

"Of course. We each support the Empire with our own expertise – and yours is in Sith Doctrine." Lana earned an irritated glance in her direction. "Avriss, the Empress has established a new order, and there are clear lines to tread–"

"I know that, Lana!" Avriss cut in sharply. "But you cannot expect me to lock myself in the archives while we head back into war with the Republic, ignoring the hand that holds our leash!"

"You know it is the best option we currently have, and we cannot afford to make a careless mistake that attracts Zakuul's eye. Besides, you've said it yourself – we have to rebuild before we can claim vengeance. And that will take time."

Avriss growled, her hands clenching tightly into fists. Lana glanced down at her desk, where her datapads and stationery started to vibrate – but went still after a moment. Good; even Darth Avriss knew better than to fling Lana's belongings on a hotheaded whim. A sign that logic still reigned over emotion.

Avriss stewed longer in subdued anger, then slowed to a stop before Lana, setting both hands on the desk as if to support her weight. With head lowered and eyes closed, she released her tension in a slow breath. Through their bond, Lana felt the scalding intensity of Avriss' anger diminish, forcibly crushed into a pinprick to be hidden away and called upon in the future, as fuel to raw power. Her consuming presence in the Force started to cool, but in the absence of anger, dejection had come to roost upon her shoulders.

Lana watched her partner, feeling a knot form in her gut. She shared Avriss' sentiment, and had a plan of her own to start dealing with the issue of Zakuul. But her hands were similarly tied by scarcity and law, and what she had planned was based on mere gut feeling. A wishful fantasy even, if she were unkind to herself. To scrape together a semblance of credibility, she would have to make discrete enquiries, and investigate this suspicion on her own – all to track down someone the Empire would sooner execute than let live.

It was a dangerous venture, with little to gain and so much more to lose. As it stood, she would drag no one else into it. Not even the one who would give everything for her.

She reached forward, setting a hand on Avriss' shoulder. If she couldn't provide relief, the least she could do was let Avriss adapt to the new Empire, and flourish where she once reigned – without distraction.

Avriss drew another breath, then released it in a sharper, shorter sigh. "I hear you'll be heading to Nar Shaddaa soon."

"Yes, to restore Intelligence presence. Plenty of our agents were withdrawn from the planet in favour of the war."

Avriss nodded, looking up at her. "Do you have a ride?"

"Are you offering?"

"Don't I always?" Avriss replied, a small smile on her lips.

Lana took comfort in that tender gaze, wishing she could provide the same in return. "If it's not an inconvenience."

"Never."


How many times had they done this before? How many times more will it take to make it easier? Even as Vestra walked Lana to the ship's exit, she already found herself wishing she didn't have to let go. Did she ever want to let go?

"I don't suppose you'll consider working for me instead?" Vestra said when they were alone in the airlock, earning an amused glance from Lana. "I've never had an advisor before…"

"And you've done well without one. You don't need me as an advisor."

"But I do." Vestra lowered her voice into a mock whine, trying to ignore the twinge in her chest. She'd meant it as a joking request, to wheedle one last reaction from Lana before they parted. But the rejection, framed as a riposte and compliment, wrenched into the light her true desire to keep Lana by her side.

Why would she not? Lana had been nothing but calm, steady in the decade Vestra had known her. She'd had her tempers and moments of uncertainty, of course; times when she had sought solace in Vestra's embrace, seeking comfort to soothe her frayed nerves. But such times were few and far between, never lasting long before she would recompose herself and resume her forward march. Lana's strength was steadfast, undeniable even in honest, softer moments with their hearts laid painfully bare. And how dearly Vestra wanted it, to fortify her own.

You're broken. You want her because you're broken.

Her throat went dry, and she jerked back a step, averting her eyes to the doors in a brief urge to flee. Her heart hammered uncomfortably in her chest, quickening to a painful pace when Lana cupped her chin, turning her gaze back.

"What's wrong?"

Vestra slammed her foot down, crushing runaway thoughts. They were not important in this moment – her beloved was. Collecting herself, she met Lana's eyes, and put on an easy smile.

"I'm fine, love." Vestra took her gloved hand and pressed it to her lips, holding fast under Lana's perceptive gaze. She wasn't taken in, but Vestra would give her no reason to worry further. "If you need me, you know how to reach me."

Lana regarded her quietly, the sharp edge in her eyes turning soft. "And you, me."

"Of course I do, Minister," Vestra purred, half in tease, and elicited a smile from her partner.

Lana closed the distance, and Vestra's eyes fluttered shut as she gave herself to the kiss, deep and wistful. Lana's hand slid down to rest over her heart, feeling its traitorous, anxious rhythm.

"I love you," Vestra whispered against her lips.

"I love you too."

As if sensing her reluctance, Lana gave her one last peck, before parting from her. Vestra withdrew to the back of the airlock, giving Lana space to compose herself.

When she had straightened her robes to satisfaction, Lana turned to the airlock's entrance. "HK, let's go."

HK-55, who had been waiting outside the airlock on Lana's order, promptly marched in. "Declaration: I am ready, master," he reported, tone brimming with ever-present glee.

"You've left his personality matrix untouched, then," Vestra noted.

"Yes. The technicians found no flaw in the matrix, so I chose to leave it alone."

Vestra hummed, amused, as she looked HK-55 over. Lana hadn't admitted it, but Vestra knew she had developed a fondness for the droid. Her stalwart bodyguard during the Zakuulan invasion, HK-55 had been greatly damaged by the time the peace treaty was signed, and his repairs had been among Lana's top priorities since her return to Dromund Kaas. He was delivered to a private contractor's workshop, and stayed longer to receive a number of upgrades that Lana had ordered, only returning to active duty two days ago.

On the surface, HK-55 looked the same as any other HK droid assigned to Imperial personnel during the invasion. But Vestra would trust only this particular model to protect Lana with its enhanced capabilities.

"Guard her closely, HK," Vestra said. "If Lana comes to harm, I shall be very upset."

"Assurance: Nothing will harm Master Beniko while I remain functional. Her safety is my top priority."

"And that is why I like you."

"That's enough," Lana sighed. "I am fully capable of protecting myself, thank you."

"Consolation: Of course you are, master."

Vestra bit down a smile when Lana cast her a sidelong glance, before reaching for the door controls. But she paused with her fingers over the keys, then turned back to Vestra, pondering something before she spoke.

"Be patient, Ves. Our time will come."

Vestra cocked her head, curious, but Lana had palmed the controls, allowing the doors to slide open. Though she had no guard to receive her, Vestra didn't press for an answer, wary of being overheard.

She nodded. "Go in strength, Minister."

"May the Force ever serve you, Dark Lord."

Lana smiled once more, then made her way down the ramp, with Vestra's eyes fixed on the sway of her cloak. When she had long left Vestra's line of sight, the doors slid shut again with a soft hiss.

Left alone in the dim chamber of the airlock, her boots slowly slid over the floor, until her back hit the bulkhead. With Lana gone, her thin facade of self-composure broke, shoulders hunching under the weight of expectation, duty, and the threat of failure. Resting hands on knees, she expelled the tightness in her chest with a deep exhale, and raised a hand to drag down her face, only to find it trembling. Vestra gritted her teeth and closed it into a fist, knocking it back against the bulkhead with enough force to sting her bones. She focused on the pain, gathering the will to push down her fear, her weakness, and reasserted control.

If nothing else, she would remain strong for her crew. For Lana.

Vestra pushed herself off the bulkhead, forcing her spine straight. Lana was right – their time would come. And when it did, Darth Avriss would extract a steep blood price from the Zakuulan jugular with her own hands.


A/N: One more chapter left for this little series! It's already longer than I intended! Help!