A Few Necessary Affairs

Darth Myrddryn released a shuddering breath as she and her master, Darth Gladiolus, emerged from shadow. She glanced back at the wall now behind them, lost in the understanding they had previously been halfway across the planet. They had met at Ziost Hangar, presumably for lightsaber training when her master dropped this "surprise" on Myrddryn.

So that was her astral projection, she thought, turning back ahead. That is the power that allows her to come and go as she pleases.

She knew her master possessed the power to come and go as she pleased, but Myrddryn had known nothing of her master's power to travel wherever she wished until this day. Distance and wards could not deny her master.

Myrddryn desired that power, and she knew her master would not teach her. Not yet, for Gladiolus coveted her secrets. They prolonged how long Darth Myrddryn required Darth Gladiolus as her master. Only once she learned all of her master's secrets would she dare declare herself the new Dark Lord of the Sith and seize that mantle by slaying her master.

Certainly, her master knew her apprentice's thoughts. Their spars had grown vicious, wielding Force techniques and physical violence in order to claim an upper hand.

"Come, Myrddryn," her master said, unaffected by traveling half way across the planet. "The people here must know you if our work is to continue without interruption. Earth must be prepared for our inevitable encounter with the Republic or any other galactic neighbors we possess."

"I have wondered, master. Why have none dared make contact with us?"

"Likely because we would either not be worth the effort subduing or because any neighbor is too distant to bother investigating our system."

Myrddryn hummed thoughtfully. Her master's words made sense, though her mind quickly favored one theory over the other. She believed distance prevented alien races from discovering and investigating Earth over any unwillingness on their part. Given that Earth would have been easy to subdue for any spacefaring civilization, distance kept them isolated in the cosmos, even with modern attempts to make contact with any intelligent life beyond their system.

They followed a narrow concrete corridor from their arrival point before turning a corner. A short corridor stretched out before them. Doubled doors stood at the end of the corridor with two military men standing at attention. Myrddryn glanced at her master; she was unfazed by their presence. The men saluted Lord Gladiolus before opening the door. Their presence was not announced, yet half the room immediately turned to face Darth Gladiolus with relieved smiles on their faces.

"Welcome back, Lord Gladiolus," an older gentleman sad as he dipped under the nacelle of the starship left in the care of these muggle scientists. Myrddryn nearly froze, gazing upon the Dearg Due once more. Her master had drawn the name from some old set of tales. "I had wondered when you would pay us another visit." He was almost upon them when he finally noticed Myrddryn, standing a half-step behind her master and set off to the right. "I presume this is your apprentice? You mentioned you had three in our last conversation."

"I'm afraid Myrddryn here is the last one remaining. The other two proved unable to achieve what I desired from them. They are lost to me now. But, it is of no issue. I only required one apprentice. Having three gave me options. Possibilities. Doors now closed."

Myrddryn frowned at her master. Had she believed the three she picked to be her apprentice had been incapable of matching the standards she set for them? Or had Tracey Davis been the only one who possessed everything necessary to become a Sith?

She shivered, imagining Lovegood and Longbottom with the same sulfuric eyes that now burned in her skull.

It mattered not, now. She had grown. Evolved. Darth Myrddryn replaced Tracey Davis, just as Darth Gladiolus replaced Edelweiss Potter. That fate awaited all who walked the path of Sith Lord. Sacrifice was instrumental to becoming what she now was. She had not only sacrificed the life of Neville Longbottom, but she also sacrificed who she had been. The parents of Tracey Davis remained apart from Darth Myrddryn. They had no desire to make peace with the one who replaced their daughter.

And for Darth Myrddryn, she had no desire to enter their home. That had been the place of Tracey Davis. She was no longer that person.

"Well, it is good to have another with you, Lord Gladiolus," the man said. He turned to Myrddryn and granted her a sharp nod. "I am Sir Wilberforce, the leader of this venture. I have been honored to know your master, Lord Myrddryn. I look forward to working together in the future."

"Than you for your kind words, Sir Wilberforce," Myrddryn said as if those words did not burn her tongue. She glanced at her master, who had stepped away from them to inspect the starship. "Has your efforts with the Dearg Due been up to my master's expectations? She has told me little of your work."

Myrddryn tried to not seethe over the secrecy. She had been oblivious to any muggles in the know about the Sith until recently.

Sir Wilberforce nodded. "I am unsurprised. Lord Gladiolus juggles a great many duties. I hope that she will pass some of that responsibility along to you. It will do you both good, Lord Myrddryn, f she makes that choice." The old man paused as he glanced at Darth Gladiolus, who spoke with a trio of scientists about whatever project was on the monitors before them. "Your name… It reminds me of the old Arthurian legends. Are you perchance Welsh?"

"I am," Lord Myrddryn admitted, slightly curious about where this particular line of questioning emerged. "And I did not know of any connections between my new name and those of Arthur's ancient kingdom."

"Few would recognize it, for most only know its Anglicized counterpart: 'Merlin'." He then winked at her. "I do not fault you or your master for embracing the great wizard's older name. He played his role to ensure the greatness of King Arthur's realm."

"Aye, that is true," Myrddryn admitted. She had failed to grasp any connections between the Sith name her master granted her and her heritage, both as Welsh and as a witch. But then her master's Sith name emerged from the same tradition as 'Edelweiss'. Meaning had been embedded into 'Gladiolus', just as she now learned 'Myrddryn' possessed meaning.

Another thought struck her. It slipped through her lips before she could think it over. "That may explain why my master graced me with the name 'Myrddryn'. She recognized my power… and reminded me she does not think I can rule as she does."

"A power behind the throne," Sir Wilberforce said with a soft smile. "There is no dishonor in that, Lord Myrddryn."

Myrddryn nodded, even as bitterness flowed into her heart. She could not settle for being replaced. Her destiny was to ascend past her master. Darth Myrddryn was the future of the Sith, not Darth Gladiolus.

But there could be another, Myrddryn suddenly thought. Her brows narrowed. She turned her gaze to the Dearg Due, matte black and sleek. The day when that ship would depart Earth approached. Her master would depart for other worlds, entrusting all she worked to achieve since her ascension to Myrddryn.

She found herself caught between the fact she needed her master's trust, yet the Sith boasted a long tradition of apprentices betraying masters. Darth Myrddryn needed to balance those traits and secure her place at her master's side until the time was right. She could not allow another to seize her future as the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"I'd like to learn more of your work, Sir Wilberforce."

The old man smiled and nodded. "Come along, then. And do not hesitate to ask questions. Some of what we work with has challenged much I once believed."

Myrddryn suppressed her doubt over Sir Wilberforce's claim. She would follow along for now. The more she knew, the more valuable she would be to her master.

And the easier it would be to replace her when the time was ripe.

Darth Gladiolus watched Sir Wilberforce escort her apprentice as she minded the conversation occurring before her. Margaret Song, the Hong Konger who had been part of Sir Wilberforce's original team, was presently describing their efforts to replicate—and manufacture—repulsorlifts. From what Gladiolus understood of Margaret's technical explanation, they had been fairly successful, though not as successful as they desired. Equipping repulsorlifts on a larger vessel like the Dearg Due remained beyond their present ability.

However, they managed to manufacture speeder bike prototypes.

"Admittedly," Margaret continued, a pained sound in her voice, "we have not worked all the bugs out. We nearly lost someone in our last experiment, and that was only after we managed five tests without either ruining the prototype or the dummy."

The Sith Lord's gaze returned to Margaret. "What issue do you continue to face?"

"It has to do with the engine coupling. We experimented with engine types—electric, diesel, petrol, even a makeshift jet engine—and none have worked well with the repulsorlifts we fabricated with aid from the military. Not a singe one has managed to last more than a few minutes before separating—or exploding."

Gladiolus hummed. She was pleased her scientists had advanced their relationship with the American military. It was unlikely to be a vector through which she could claim the loyalty of the Americans, but they would prove useful in the future. Though she understood it would take a great deal of care and time to sway such an independent people to her ways. Their ability, though, spoke volumes about their utility to her.

A shame not all of them hold beliefs aligning with Sith. If there could be a nation based around the dark side of the Force and the Sith, then all my plans would advance easier. They would understand my desires and work to fulfill them—all the while coveting my power as any aligned to the dark side.

And that desire will make them even stronger.

She set aside thoughts of the Sith and a nation utterly faithful to the dark side. It would not aid her, moving into the future.

Only now did they near the verge of making the leap from being bound to their singular world to being a spacefaring people. Gladiolus knew it would take time. But she remained dedicated to ensuring the next spaceship constructed on her world safely made the jump from their system to the Alpha Centauri system and back. The distance was less than five light years, which in the galactic term was next door, but that achievement would spark a renaissance for Earth and her people. Many of the great fears and worries that plagued them would be swept away as they extended out into the stars, claiming their rightful place among the other races of the Milky Way.

"Have you attempted to adapt the sublight engine technology of the Dearg Due?" Gladiolus asked. "That could fix your issues with the repulsorlifts—and help us fashion vessels much quicker than those already in use."

Margaret sighed. "Sir Wilberforce had a second team brought in from MIT and Stanford to pursue that idea. Their work appeared promising, from what I managed to see."

"I presume there was an issue then?"

"Yes?" Margaret frowned. "I thought you would have known. While we thought the problem was that the other team did not like us, it turned out there was a spy amongst their numbers."

"A spy?" Darth Gladiolus drawled, veins ablaze with anger. "Tell me what you know."

"Yes. Foreign. Nobody knows for certain if he was Chinese or North Korean given the paperwork turned out to be… less than kosher. The other team was dismissed shorty after. Should they ever violate their NDAs… Well, I would not wish to be them."

Her lips threaded into a line. Darth Gladiolus had not accounted for national—and ideological—differences interfering in her plans. But then she had her eyes opened to the reality: they, as humans of Earth, had to band together against the rest of the cosmos. She hoped to find allies after her inevitable departure, but she held no hope on that front. For who would ally with a world unable to work together toward a common cause?

Gladiolus needed to guarantee Earth possessed the strength to repel any who dared enslave her world. Her destiny was to rule Earth, and from there dominate the whole of the Known Galaxy. To permit another world to dominate her own was to spit in the face of her destiny. That would be a rejection of all she strived for since the day it became clear she would inevitably come into contact—and conflict—with those beyond the boundary of her homeworld.

"Disappointing," she drawled. "Summon any with the skill necessary to complete this task. I—or my apprentice—will inspect them, and select those who can be trusted."

"…you do understand that we are working with the American military, and thus their government, yes?" Margaret asked. Gladiolus frowned. The scientist added a belated, "My lord."

"I understand all too well the foolish notions small, pathetic men get into their minds," Darth Gladiolus declared. "I will show to them that there are other paths forward. They can either cower and hide beneath the fear and ignorance of the past, or they can embrace the truth of power and help build a future where one's will and desire can become manifest."

Margaret hummed doubtfully, but she did not openly reject Gladiolus's words. The Sith Lord knew she sounded rather megalomaniac, but her words neared a genuine feeling. Earth would become a world where potential could be fully realized. The Sith allowed Gladiolus to achieve her true potential. She trusted in the influence of the Sith to ensure Myrddryn reached her true potential.

But what to do about those who reject the Sith and the dark side of the Force?

Gladiolus vividly recalled the defiance of Lovegood, Longbottom, and Granger. The first impulse that raced through her demanded she hunt down and destroy any who would resist her, who would stand against her—or worse, embrace the ways of the Jedi. Thoughts of their kind awakened her fury. How could she permit her people to embrace the slavery of passivity?

The Jedi needed to be destroyed. It mattered not that some were inclined to their ways by nature. Darth Gladiolus understood her history. Only the Jedi threatened the Sith.

"But if it is necessary," she continued as though Margaret had not been thrown for a loop by her words and she had not allowed her thoughts to spiral away. "I understand your reluctance to trust the Americans further. I like it little, but we must make sacrifices if this world is to maintain its independence. We have been fortunate that none have discovered us yet."

Margaret glanced at the Dearg Due as skepticism rippled off her in thick waves.

"I understand your doubt given the shuttle here. I do not know exactly how, but the owner of that ship was drawn halfway across the galaxy to reach this world, all so he could fulfill a vital task in Scotland and pave the way for me, a thousand years after his time."

"That… makes sense, I guess." Margaret lifted her glasses from her face before rubbing her eyes. "I only wish we had more to go on than records a thousand years out of date. Several schematics we found in the hard drives had to be returned to a 'Zeta-Aleph' for translation."

"Ah. I had not realized he failed to translate everything before uploading them to the Dearg's systems. I will inform him to ensure everything is in English before sending them."

Margaret nodded. "We also received reports from the same source, though it was clearly a different writer. A woman, I think. Her writing carries a distinct note that oddly reminds me of myself."

That must be Hermione's work. I did not approve any unaltered files to be delivered to Area 51. She glanced across the chamber, noting where Wilberforce and Myrddryn stood, stilling speak. She then spotted the disgruntled American commander standing in a doorway across the chamber, watching them with judgment in his eyes and doubt in his aura. He held a stack of papers in one hand and a cold mug in the other. She peered into his mind and discovered—

Ah. So that's how her files got here. The American made requests of Sir Wilberforce, who asked for everything Zeta-Aleph possessed. Somehow, Hermione's work made it through the filters that otherwise should have kept her work from the scientists—and from the American.

"Pardon me," she told Margaret. The scientist flinched at the Sith Lord's politeness. "I must speak with the commander."

Gladiolus weaved across the chamber, drawing only a touch of the dark side to muddle her presence. Myrddryn's golden eyes flickered to her, ever aware of her master's presence. Only they were sensitive to the Force, thus only they would notice its usage, especially when used to make Darth Gladiolus a phantom.

She appeared beside the American commander, busy scanning the chamber with furrowed brows. Confusion reeked from him, along with a sour note of determination—determination to protect his men, his nation, and those under his charge, regardless of loyalties or nationalities as long as they did not threaten the United States.

"You appear to be searching for someone," Gladiolus murmured low enough only the American would notice. She did not desire to draw attention to them.

"Yes. For that strange 'Lord Gladiolus'," he muttered. "I don't like her much, though Sir Wilberforce—" He froze and glanced to the side. "How did you—?"

"I have my ways. But that is not what should concern you. What should concern you is the sluggish progress here and the fact planetary intrigues have set behind an affair which should be purely focused on the stars beyond."

The commander scoffed. "You're barking up the wrong tree. If you're truly troubled by what happened with that team, you should pay Beijing a visit. They plotted that intrigue, though perhaps you could also blame Washington. They've throttled efforts here since."

"Then you should inform Washington they either give into my desires or I pay them an unpleasant visit," Gladiolus said as though she were speaking to a particularly obstinate child. "My concern resides with the future of our world. If politicians must squabble, then they can do it while not impeding my efforts."

"Then I will change their mind—or cast them down. If an example must be made, then I will make an example of whoever speaks the loudest against me."

The commander hummed as though she had not proposed what would be treason from a countryman. "So you would rely on bureaucrats?" he asked. "Are you not a soldier? A woman of action and dedication?"

She clicked her tongue. "I would ask the same of you, commander. Why listen to fools when you know what is happening here?"

"My oath was sworn on the Constitution of the United States, my lord," he said, sneering at her title. "Your countrymen may be willing to do whatever you demand, but I have restrictions. Restraint. I could command you be removed from this base and never permitted to return." His gaze wandered back to Darth Myrddryn once more. "Perhaps she will be easier to work with."

Darth Gladiolus nearly cackled. Myrddryn? Easier? Only a fool would believe so. Gladiolus knew her student would grow into the plotting and intrigues that compelled many a Sith apprentice to betray their master. Tracey Davis had been a pliant girl, happy to receive the attention of her lord. Gladiolus had never considered what would become of that girl once she embraced the Sith and proved herself worthy to be called a Sith Lord. She had much to learn still, but the girl had grown as a result of her apprenticeship.

Then again, had neither betrayed her when they did, Neville and Luna would have grown strong enough to be worthy of that title as well.

They proved through deed and weakness they were unworthy.

The Longbottoms were extinct as a result of Neville's choices. Frank and Alice, confined to Saint Mungo's for almost two decades, passed away shortly after their son perished. As a result, the Ministry quickly seized their estates, property, and money. One day that wealth would be rewarded to a deserving servant; one who knew their place and did their duty.

"You are welcome to try and work with her over me, commander. But listen closely when I say that choice will not turn out well for you. Not as she is now."

He shot her a dubious look. "Perhaps in the future then? The eggheads mentioned in passing that you'll eventually leave Earth for somewhere else."

"And I will return. But before I think to depart, I must ensure Earth will prosper during my absence. I would be… amiss to not prepare my homeworld before I go gallivanting through the cosmos."

The military man snorted. "'Gallivant'. What a way to describe what you'll be up to." His face shifted, losing all trace of emotion. She could sense a whirlpool beneath the surface, choppy enough she struggled to parse all he felt. "I won't ban you from the base," he eventually admitted. "But I cannot trust you to come and go as you please. Protocol must be established. It was reported to me that you and your apprentice walked out of a shadow instead of arriving in a normal manner."

"That would be how it would appear to the uninitiated. Shadows only make the process simpler, especially with the distance between England and America."

His mood soured almost immediately. "Do not remind me about your unnatural powers."

"If that is what you wish," Darth Gladiolus drawled. "Be safe, dear commander. I would be disappointed to return and find a different man monitoring the progress of my dear scientists."

He granted her a fierce glower before turning his back to her and sorting through his papers. Eventually, he tired of whatever display he was making and headed off. Gladiolus frowned once the commander vanished from sight. She found surprise at the man's restraint. Perhaps she should have used the Force to influence his thoughts. But making him one of hers would be suspicious to anyone, and his superiors would likely replace him as a result.

Perhaps I should visit Washington as he suggested and impose my will and order.

She nearly sighed. Gladiolus cared little for spycraft. She was a woman of action; her blood sang with battle. The dark side was its most potent when fighting and killing her foe. For Darth Gladiolus, violence was the ultimate law. She maintained enough violence to keep Myrddryn at bay. She used violence to end threats against her will and used it again to remind the people where their loyalties must lie. Maybe a day would come when her violence would no longer work, but she sensed that day remained far in the future.

If she were to deceive herself, she would believe that day would never arrive. But Gladiolus was no fool. She lived by the sword now. She would die by it one day.

She remained away from the rest, watching as the science teams continued their work. Margaret spoke with her fellows about the idea Gladiolus provided her while Myrddryn continued speaking with Sir Wilberforce. Were the man not dedicated to Crown and country, Gladiolus might fear his loyalty would sway. Instead, she watched on with sly amusement as her apprentice only added to the man's knowledge of the galaxy and, likely, the Force.

Eventually, Gladiolus grew tired of watching. She headed for the Dearg Due, untroubled by the glances and stares. She only paused once beneath the Dearg's bow. A heartbeat passed before she raised a hand and ran a few grazing fingers along the faint gilding she rarely minded. So accustomed to seeing only the matte black look of the shuttle, Gladiolus allowed herself to enjoy inspecting the gilding that otherwise went unnoticed. Fingers rolled back into her palm until only the pointer remained extended. She traced the patterns she found, continuing until a voice cut through her concentration.

"Master? What are you doing?"

Gladiolus somehow managed to avoid the startled instinct to withdraw her hand. Instead, she permitted her hand to fall in slow, almost brusque movements. Only once her hand returned to her side did she turn and face Myrddryn.

"Have you grown tired of speaking with Sir Wilberforce? I found him intriguing when we first met, but then he only possessed silly ideas about the cosmos. By now he must be close to an expert on galactic matters."

"I only wished to ensure you were of right mind," Myrddryn said. Her emotions were closed off to Gladiolus. "I spotted you inspecting the Dearg Due. You seemed… off."

"Did I feel wrong to you? Or did you merely look with your eyes instead of trusting the Force?"

Myrddryn remained silent long enough Gladiolus determined her apprentice relied solely upon her eyes. She smiled and laid a hand on her apprentice's shoulder. Myrddryn flinched but made no effort to remove the hand.

"You have grown powerful, my dear apprentice. But you must remember that the Force can reveal as much as it can hide. You have done well to learn that second lesson, in part thanks to the example of Lovegood." Myrddryn's face twitched into a brief sneer. "But you must trust that it will tell you true."

"That sounds like a Jedi's words, master."

"Maybe a Jedi would speak those words. But I am not commanding you to be passive. Use the Force to seize the truth. Pierce the veil of uncertainty; the veil of lies and doubt. Seize command of the Force—and your future."

"Are you saying I should use the Force to destroy you, master?"

Gladiolus smiled. "One day you will be powerful enough to 'destroy me', Myrddryn. I would be a poor Sith Master if I did not teach you all I know, aware that one day you will be powerful enough to try and claim my title, along with my life."

Her apprentice blinked. She then frowned with suspicion, her sulfuric eyes dimming like embers slowly losing their heat. "You have accepted that one day I will destroy you?"

"I would be disappointed if my apprentice never attempted once powerful enough. I cannot say how many times you will fail, but I will only know whether or not I succeeded in training you when I die by your hand." Gladiolus then smiled, all teeth and malice. "But I will not make it easy for you."

Myrddryn nodded stiffly, likely troubled by the response. Gladiolus sensed her apprentice's thoughts. She could almost see the mental imaginings of possible encounters. All played out in Myrddryn's favor, naturally, but she found it amusing her apprentice already thought of that future day. She found it… quaint.

"What did Sir Wilberforce tell you?" Gladiolus asked, forcing her apprentice away from thoughts of slaying her master. "You spoke with him longer than I expected."

"Only introductions," her apprentice said. She then pursed her lips. "He noted my name possesses a Welsh characteristic—among other curious little traits."

"So it does." Gladiolus had opened herself to the Force. That name, Myrddryn, leaped out to her and she uttered it. Her master's holocron had reacted similarly before granting the name of 'Darth Gladiolus' to a covetous Edelweiss Potter. "So it does," she repeated. "I presume you are more pleased with your name now?"

"I am, master."

Her apprentice had blinked at the naming, but embraced it quick enough. While Tracey Davis had been relieved to claim her new name as a Sith Lord, she had failed to release her confusion. But then, they had spoken little of how Gladiolus acquired her name beyond a reference to the flower name tradition of Lily Evans' family.

"Good. Now, what have you sensed concerning the work being completed here?"

Myrddryn glanced around, unable to resist a dark scowl. "At their rate, nothing will be accomplished until long after my own apprentice is trained and has taken on an apprentice in their place."

"I have more faith in them. But, I understand where your concern comes from." Gladiolus gazed around the chamber. "I have sought to induce thousands of years of development and change in a few short years. Not even a race as tenacious as our own can uphold such change without trouble—without trial and error." She shared a look with her apprentice. "That is our supreme role as Sith Lords: to use the weak—the sheep of this world—and shield them from the changes that would otherwise shatter their brains and leave them utterly paralyzed. Rule is ours by right; best do it well, else you invite usurpers."

Myrddryn nodded. She did well to mask her skepticism, but Gladiolus sensed it nonetheless. She would not fault her apprentice for her skepticism, but then her apprentice had little understanding of the truth that existed beyond Earth: a galactic civilization awaited them, able to send ships halfway across the Milky Way within three weeks. To face that threat, Earth must build its strength swiftly, or they would be made a subject of whichever alien race or civilization discovered them first.

And given the presence of two Sith Lords, it is likely that the Jedi and their Republic shall eventually come to seek us out. Unless we make an effort to gather our strength and create allies out of future enemies, they could very well make this world another vassal giving to their foul Core.

"There is more to do, apprentice," Darth Gladiolus said. She caught Sir Wilberforce's gaze from across the room. He nodded to her. Good. He remains willing to follow his Sith masters. "Let us depart. Should you wish to visit again, reach out to Sir Wilberforce. I will handle transporting you across the Atlantic."

"Will you not teach me your method of astral projection?"

"Mayhaps with time, apprentice. But for now, it shall remain a secret of mine." She smiled as her apprentice glowered. "Come. It is time I teach you how to handle the least pleasant of all men: politicians."

"This is most unusual, I tell you!" Fudge snarled, rising to his feet for the first time during the twenty-minute meeting. "Unusual! The Longbottoms, extinct! In a time of peace!"

"One chose rebellion, the other chose treason," Gladiolus said, stony in the face of the Minister's fury. "I only did what I must."

Myrddryn stood near the door, watching as her master calmly handled Minister Fudge and Madam Bones, the erstwhile Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was known throughout the Ministry that Lord Gladiolus—few knew of the 'Darth' title and none would dare use it because of the undue attention it would draw—controlled the auror corps. Having sensed their presence and even dueled a few in their special chamber, Myrddryn recognized the depths of her master's control. She would need to twist them into obeying her while her master was away. To not act then would invite the mystical sway over them to activate once she turned against her master. And while her master was unlikely to use the aurors during a confrontation between Sith Lords, the chance existed—and Myrddryn would rather they be her weapon than remain in her master's possession.

"Only what you must?" Fudge asked, shocked by their brazen nature. "You have squandered your position within the Ministry! Already plenty question whether or not—"

"Their questions matter little, Minister. None remain that'd dare take up arms against me. Not when I have an apprentice in the form of Lord Myrddryn here."

Gladiolus gestured to her. She stepped forward, drawing the gazes of Fudge and Bones alike. Recognition flashed in the eye of the latter, for the other remained hidden behind her monocle. Had Myrddryn retained a bond with the parents of Tracey Davis, she would seize knowledge from them concerning Madam Bones. They must know something that her master did not. But she had no desire to rebuild a bond she happily allowed to fracture.

For now, she would rely on her master's good graces. Some days she wondered if it was wise to rely on her master at all. Darth Gladiolus had achieved her great powers through the guidance of Sith holocrons thousands of years old. Yet Myrddryn knew her master needed her still. That was the reason Gladiolus sought an apprentice to begin with. The chances she could discover a more worthy apprentice beyond Earth were high; Myrddryn was needed for now.

I worry over nothing, Myrddryn realized. Master brought me here so that when she inevitably leaves Earth, I will know how to handle these two, and thus rule magical Britain.

There were other Heads within the Ministry, but only these two posed a danger to the Sith order. Why else would they only meet with Fudge and Bones? More so, they, along with a queer man of the Department of Mysteries Myrddryn had yet to meet, had been taken prisoner during the Janus Rebellion. Her master had rescued them, and then she slew the ringleader Draco Malfoy.

"In the event I depart Earth or, by some unforeseen act of God, I perish, all of my positions and duties shall be inherited by my apprentice, Lord Myrddryn. Only she of the three I took for apprentice proved her mettle; only she proved to me that she was worthy to be recognized as one of my order: the Order of Sith Lords."

Fudge's face ballooned with color. Madam Bones considered Myrddryn coolly, no doubt recalling what she knew of the Sith Lord once named Tracey Davis. Myrddryn met Madam Bones' stare, grappling with the temptation to use the Force to learn more of what the woman thought. Myrddryn knew that burning bridges with Tracey's parents had placed her in a difficult place when it came to learning about the second-most powerful woman in magical Britain. Yet would it be easier to risk Bones' scorn or to go crawling back?

I… I could remain patient, instead. Allow Bones to offer me information that can be used against her in the future.

"I am pleased we understand each other," Gladiolus said when no argument or protest came forth. Fudge's puce-shaded face paled, drained of blood faster than a butcher talented at their craft. Her master noticed: "Unless there is a problem, Cornelius."

"A problem?" he hissed. "Of course, there's a problem! You only hold your positions because of what you did that night!"

"Don't forget the rebellion," Bones said, finally speaking. "Any who doubted your… worthiness to help guide our society swallowed their protests after that wretched affair ended."

"Not all," Gladiolus said. "Neville Longbottom managed to hold onto his misgivings—not that I mind. I'm only disappointed he decided the proper course was to lash out at me so early. Had he only waited a few years and grew his power, perhaps he could have defeated me."

Madam Bones pursed her lips. "Regardless, you have made an effort to quiet those who would question you." Her gaze drifted to Myrddryn before returning to Gladiolus. "You must understand many will chafe having to serve your self-appointed inheritor. Your legitimacy is based solely upon your strength—and nothing else. There are no systems, no means, by which to guarantee your apprentice won't face a rebellion on par with or exceeding the Janus Rebellion."

"They would be fools to try," Myrddryn snarled.

"Certainly," Bones said, sounding only slightly impressed. "But if you know anything about this nation during these last few decades, we have no shortage of fools—especially fools willing to plunge this nation into bitter civil war with only a shred of hope of imposing their will on others."

Madam Bones shot Gladiolus a pointed look. Myrddryn's master beamed back, amused Bones would dare lump the Sith Lord before her with the likes of Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Janus Rebellion leaders.

"They are welcome to try and impose their will over mine."

"No! I will not stand for it!" Fudge bellowed, rising to his feet. He slammed his hand on the table; Myrddryn was impressed he did not grimace. "I have had to deal with one rebellion during my tenure as Minister! I will permit a second."

"Do not forget who saved you from outright war," Gladiolus softly said. Fudge flinched. "I will proclaim, for all to hear, that Lord Myrddryn is my chosen and rightful heir. She shall aid you in ruling during my absence. Should any dare go against her, it is to be treated as though they have opposed me. While I am away, her voice is mine."

Myrddryn glanced at her master, warm pleasure and cold fear fighting in her veins. The aurors would be under her sway. They could open the door to slaying her master once she returned from her sojourn in the stars. Myrddryn had learned shortly after her ascension as a Sith Lord that Darth Gladiolus was destined to venture into the starry sky beyond Earth. Where her master would go remained vaguely unknown. Ziost and Korriban, ancient Sith worlds, were possibilities.

Otherwise, the galaxy struck Myrddryn as free for Darth Gladiolus to wander as she pleased. Even, perchance, to Coruscant.

"That sets a dangerous precedent," Madam Bones stated.

"Yet it solves the question of legitimacy. Naturally, once I return to Earth, Myrddryn's reign shall end. But from the moment I depart this world to the moment I return, I leave it all in her capable hands." Gladiolus glanced at Myrddryn, those cruel sulfuric eyes miraculously softened. "She has proven herself a Sith Lord in my eyes; none else can be entrusted with guiding Earth while I am away. She alone is privy to… plans of mine."

Madam Bones sighed. "So be it, Lord Gladiolus." She turned to Fudge. "I'll leave writing the statement to you. No doubt our 'dear lord' shall wish to look it over before it runs in the Prophet."

Fudge nodded timidly. "Of course, Amelia. That sounds like a… wise idea."

"Then we understand each other," Gladiolus said with a clear edge of victory. She turned to Myrddryn. "Come, apprentice. We have another meeting to attend to this day."

The Sith apprentice nodded. She ignored the flush of disappointment she experienced as they departed the Ministry. She had not seen enough of her master manipulating Bones and cowing Fudge. Myrddryn suspected her master cut it short, wishing to not give away too much before the day of departure.

Hopefully, this next meeting will be more fruitful.

The Queen of Great Britain sipped her tea as she waited on her next visitor. Over two years had passed since she first met the young Lord Gladiolus. She had been pleasantly surprised by the girl's vision for the future, even if she chose brutish methods to achieve her ends. That had changed, to a degree, in the time since their first meeting; yet that rough, dangerous nature remained firmly in place, despite all the advice the Queen attempted to dole out.

And now she brings an apprentice—an heir for me to meet. She has said naught of this other woman beyond granting me a name: 'Lord Myrddryn'. A warning that she might think any of her apprentices could be ready to meet me so soon would have been appreciated.

The Queen nearly sighed. She could feel her age in her bones, though she believed she still had a decade or two of life before death would claim her. The world had changed immensely since she was a girl, and they stood on the precipice of an even greater change. If Lord Gladiolus succeeded in her desires, the Queen might witness the first Earth-built starships venture beyond the limitations of their solar system.

A silly idea of being laid to rest amongst the stars sprung to mind. The Queen snorted softly and permitted a weak, fond smile. She would be buried alongside her forbearers on Earth. She would leave space and its uncertain frontiers to the young of this age. They would follow Gladiolus into that new frontier, and confront whatever madness awaited the ambitious.

Her buzzer lit up. They had already arrived.

The Queen straightened before pressing the buzzer's response button. The door shifted slightly, and a moment later it opened. Hendrick, her reliable yet aging court wizard, stood aside as Lord Gladiolus and her new apprentice, Lord Myrddryn, swept into the room. They wore black with burning yellow eyes.

She suppressed a shiver. Their unnatural, guarded eyes did well to mask the rot lying within their souls. The Queen had learned some of their nature—these so-called "Sith Lords". Little of what she knew painted a rosy picture of the black-clad duo.

"Welcome back, Lord Gladiolus. I presume this is Lord Myrddryn."

Lord Gladiolus nodded. "Has Sir Wilberforce informed you of their meeting? Or did you already know how to say her name?"

Lord Myrddryn—some fool girl deluded into following Gladiolus's path—glanced between her master and her monarch with a suspicious look. Yet she showed a lick of sense in keeping her mouth shut. Lord Gladiolus had been sensible with choosing her apprentice; that or she had been left with only a single viable candidate. Given the exacting nature of Lord Gladiolus, the Queen suspected the latter. For her to swiftly eliminate two of three candidates meant they either washed out or—and this was the more likely scenario in the Queen's mind—they had died as a result of their training.

The Queen found herself disappointed Lord Gladiolus would murder her students. But she was unsurprised. It was in her nature.

"I have many sources, Lord Gladiolus. Enough whispered her name that I knew it before you requested a meeting. And do not think me foolish enough to not know how to pronounce your apprentice's strange new name. The Welsh remain a part of my realm, even if they have been reduced to a lesser state compared to the Irish or the Scots."

Lord Myrddryn, surprisingly, reacted more strongly to the Queen's words than Lord Gladiolus. The girl had been brought up in a magical Welsh household. Given the long-standing divide between the magical and non-magical realms, Myrddryn knew little of how the "muggle" Welsh related to the rest of the British people. She tried to not be too disappointed by that realization.

"Further," the Queen continued, "I presume this meeting is to introduce Lord Myrddryn and myself. I understand you plan to leave this world one day, and so you wish for me to know your apprentice as I know you."

Lord Gladiolus nodded. "The connection between we Sith Lords and the British Crown cannot be allowed to fail. My student must know my most valuable connection to the non-magical world." She glanced at a frowning Lord Myrddryn. "Unlike myself, she was raised purely within your magical realm. The Crown means nothing to her. And while she has met Sir Wilberforce, I do not think he managed to impress upon her how important you are when it comes to the cause of readying Earth for entering the broader galactic community."

The Queen smiled thinly. She understood how great the gap between the Crown and her magical subjects had grown. Gladiolus had confirmed it, being the first magical leader to meet with the Queen since her coronation decades ago. Her Prime Ministers had contact with the magical community, as though they were an adequate replacement for her. That thought nearly made her chafe; her magical Ministers should have come to her whenever trouble arose in their part of her realm.

Perhaps that was why she had taken a liking to Gladiolus. The woman, for all her many faults, understood the need for a connection with the Crown. It had been meant to elude the watchful eye she frankly deserved to be fixed to her. But it had served them both; Gladiolus had her goal of defending Earth advanced while the Queen maintained a greater tie to the magical realm, even with the spies managed by Hendrick.

"I will happily build a rapport with your successor, Lord Gladiolus." The Queen's smile widened. "You have become a favored subject and servant, willing to act as necessary while not betraying me to acquire more power and influence."

Lord Gladiolus stiffened at being openly called a 'subject' and a 'servant' before her apprentice. The Queen noticed how Lord Myrddryn glared holes into her master. She wondered about the nature of the relationship these two possessed. The Queen knew little of the inner workings of the "Sith Order" that Lord Gladiolus and her apprentice belonged to.

"What a funny thing to call me. 'Subject.' 'Servant.' Do you seek to imply that I am subject to your decisions? Or have you taken our relationship to be so inequitable that I cannot possibly be an equal in your mind?"

"That is what you are, Lord Gladiolus. You live in my realm, the realm passed down to me from my forefathers. From Alfred the Great to Queen Victoria, great efforts have been made to maintain and defend the sovereignty of the Crown." She leaned forward slightly. "You do not live outside that sovereignty, even with your power.

"But that is not what I need you to realize: You speak of leaving Earth. That is why we are meeting today. But when you return, then what?" Gladiolus pursed her lips. "You must learn the art of diplomacy, of using favors, offers, and words to maintain power. You know enough of violence, but you know little of diplomacy."

"Is this a joke to you?" Lord Gladiolus asked, failing to restrain a sneer. "Strength will guarantee Earth's safety, not words."

"Perhaps. But you must prepare for threats you cannot fight with either strength of arms or your strange mystical powers, Lord Gladiolus. A time will come when you must talk your way through problems. I would be amiss as a mentor if I did not assist you in that fashion."

"'A mentor'," Gladiolus repeated, the words awkward in her mouth. "We have not spent enough time together to warrant you claiming that title, Your Grace. However, I will confess that your interest in my choices has been… useful."

"Good. The strength and integrity of my realm relies, regardless of how I feel, on your strength and choices." The Queen turned to Lord Myrddryn, who stiffened under her gaze. "The same with you, Lord Myrddryn. You will become your master's representative; no doubt exists in my mind that she will return from her journeys away from our small little world on the edge of the galaxy."

Lord Myrddryn nodded, her yellow eyes guarded.

The Queen turned back to Lord Gladiolus. "Anything else you desire from this meeting, or was this only a formal pleasantry?"

"Only a formal pleasantry," Lord Gladiolus said stiffly. "I've had to suffer a few of these recently, now that I have formally taken on an apprentice." Something apprehensive flashed in her yellow eyes. It was so brief that the Queen almost thought she dreamt it. "There is one last pleasantry we must attend to." She nodded to the Queen before turning to her apprentice. "Come, Myrddryn. This is the most important of them."

The Queen watched the lords leave. She summoned Hendrick and said, "Be ready for when Lord Gladiolus moves to leave Earth. We should keep a close eye on Lord Myrddryn once that day passes."

"As you command."

Darth Gladiolus dreaded the coming meeting, but she could not avoid it. Not anymore. She held no love for her former friend, but a great deal of her legitimacy as ruler over magical Britain rested on the punishments meted out following the Janus Rebellion. To reveal that she had deceived the people—if only to her apprentice—sat ill with her. But she could not abandon Hermione Granger in her cell, presuming Zeta-Aleph would keep her fed and bathed without an issue arising that would reveal her deception.

It had to be done. It had to be done. Someone needed to know Hermione Granger lived, hidden away within Ziost Hangar.

And the only one she could trust with that knowledge, unfortunately, was her apprentice.

"Where are you taking me, master?" asked Darth Myrddryn. "Is there something within Ziost Hangar that you have kept secret from me?"

"There is, and it is not within the complex where we ended those traitors." Darth Gladiolus pursed her lips as she considered how to broach the topic. "I have deceived the people. The legitimacy of my rule—of your rule—rests on a lie."

"…I am pleased you are willing to reveal the truth to me now, master."

"You are the only one I can entrust the truth to. Only you, Darth Myrddryn, can maintain the strength of the Sith here on Earth." She caught her apprentice's gaze. "Threats to our position would use this truth against us; the people care for lies and truth more than those with power. And so that we can maintain our position, you must know the truth—and you must understand how severe your punishment shall be if you fail me."

"I understand, master."

Lord Gladiolus sensed her apprentice's seriousness. Myrddryn would not permit the Sith to fall from grace. They understood a day would come when they would face each other in lethal combat, and never had it been suggested that the cause would be anything other than Darth Myrddryn seeking to become the Dark Lord of the Sith. She would not use Hermione's continued life against her master as a means to weaken her.

Hermione's mind, however, could be wielded in Myrddryn's favor against Gladiolus.

They reached the cell complex. Gladiolus felt her apprentice's confusion about their destination. After all, Gladiolus had made a concerted effort to keep this location secret from her apprentice. Of the three she once possessed, only Davis ever visited Ziost Hangar beyond switching and swapping out holocrons.

"What is…"

"You will see soon enough," Gladiolus declared. "Keep close, apprentice."

Myrddryn did not respond. They passed the security room and entered the short hallway leading to the cells. Gladiolus continued until she reached Hermione's cell—the witch appeared asleep at a glance—and then turned to her apprentice, who stopped a step short.

"Look within, then tell me your thoughts."

Her apprentice frowned before nodding slowly. Myrddryn peered into the cell—and then stiffened.

"Why—Her? What?" Myrddryn hissed in short succession. She turned to her master with a wild look in her eyes. "Why would you keep her alive? She's supposed to be dead!"

"She is dead to the world. But I retain the use of her mind. She has taken umbrage with the nature of the Sith, but she understands her role in the new order we build. Either she works for me, or she is disposed of." Gladiolus smirked. "I suspect she sees an opportunity to escape, somehow. Some day. It's a foolish hope. But then, she is a fool. How else would one describe her nature after her failures?"

Myrddryn nodded slowly. "I understand, master. Still… I would have disposed of her, instead of keeping her."

"Thank you for reminding me there is still much I must teach you," Gladiolus said. She smiled placidly when her apprentice's jaw clenched. If Myrddryn wished to be shortsighted and foolish, then Gladiolus would permit it. For now. "But today, the sole purpose is to—"

"So you brought someone else," rasped Hermione. Gladiolus stared into the cell. Hermione had sat up, though her bleary expression revealed she was still quite exhausted. "Is that Davis?"

"I am Darth Myrddryn now!"

"So another has fallen for to your religion," Hermione said, her gaze already swiveling to Gladiolus. "What of Neville and Luna?"

"Dead. They betrayed me, and perished for their error. They were not… strong enough to be victorious."

Thunderous rage roared through Hermione Granger. She did well to mask her emotions, though years late. But Gladiolus sensed her feelings. Gladiolus wanted to revel in what she sensed; had Hermione been Force-sensitive, that fury and hatred would be perfect for driving Edelweiss Potter's old friend into the welcoming arms of the dark side of the Force. But Hermione was not Force-sensitive. She had rejected the Sith and the dark side. By her reckoning, the weak, impotent Jedi were preferable as rulers and leaders.

"You should be proud," Gladiolus continued. "Lovegood decided to take up your banner, if only in secret. Your folly prompted her to oppose me; her blood is as much upon your hands as they stain mine."

"So you admit you're responsible for her death."

Gladiolus snorted. "I am a Sith Lord. Who lives… Who dies… I have the power to decide that. It is that power which defines me as a Sith Lord." She leaned forward so the force field highlighted the marks on her face. "You live and breathe due solely to your utility. Do not forget your work aids various efforts to prepare Earth for her inevitable debut into the galaxy beyond."

"Sir Wilberforce's team?" murmured Myrddryn. Hermione frowned; she must have heard what Gladiolus's apprentice uttered. "She has contact with them?"

"In a manner. One limited thanks to Zeta-Aleph," Gladiolus whispered, her lips barely parting. "Worry not about any connection between her and them. They know not of her. Anything done by her is attributed to other sources. Ones they are meant to trust."

Myrddryn nodded. Gladiolus sensed uncertainty in her apprentice, but it was swiftly shut down. She was almost proud of her student.

Hermione glanced between them, understanding dawning in those familiar brandy-brown eyes. Gladiolus considered wielding the Force to meddle with Hermione's thoughts and memories; she eventually decided against it. What could the girl realize or learn that would be a threat to Gladiolus? She had completed the little necessary to prevent Hermione from contacting anyone beyond her cell except the Dark Lord herself. It mattered not that her scientists might suspect another mind behind what they received. Why would that lead them to suspect an allegedly dead prisoner?

"Now that introductions are finished, we shall depart. It remains a pleasure, Hermione."

"I wish I could say the same of you, Darth Gladiolus."

She grinned, flashing sharp teeth. Hermione bubbled with hatred. Oh, how amusing it was that she could draw such potent emotions from one who would have resisted her slow, certain fall to the dark side.

Hermione watched the Sith Lords go, her stomach filled with dread and disgust. She had feared Darth Gladiolus would inevitably corrupt someone into following her foul ways. Never would she have suspected that Tracey Davis would be that person, nor that she would happily adopt the Sith Ways. She even had one of those dreaded Sith Lord titles: Darth Myrddryn.

Should have chosen a name akin to Morgan le Fay, not to Merlin, Hermione thought bitterly. Why that one? Why name an apprentice for the wizard who made Arthur great, and then revolutionized magical English?

She recalled shortly after that Davis was Welsh. Hermione suspected that had played into why Darth Gladiolus applied that name to her apprentice. It highlighted her past while demeaning her, reminding her that she would never claim the keys to Camelot, just as Merlin never ruled those he guided and taught.

The moment Hermione had that realization, everything fell into place: Myrddryn was a placeholder. A day would come when Gladiolus would have a superior apprentice, one who could overpower their cruel master. Myrddryn might even bolster and expand their Sith Order before her inevitable destruction.

Madness… and yet it matches the pattern Gladiolus has established: power and death go equal in hand.

Hermione shivered and leaned against the wall of her cell. Perhaps if she were fortunate, Myrddryn would prove a better conversationalist than Gladiolus.

But she doubted it. Hermione would waste away in this cell until whatever day arrived when her utility finally reached its end, unless a miracle visited her, and sprung her from her durasteel tomb.