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Walking through the base of the Alliance he made himself seem as calm as possible. It had been weeks since the Outlander had risen to the Eternal throne and only a few months since he joined the alliance. People regarded him with suspicion at best, fear most often and all consuming rage at worst - the latter being more common. He didn’t blame them. He knew he had much to atone for and that he could never be forgiven. The fact that he was still alive despite all the harm he had caused was enough. To be shown such mercy after so much death, was beyond what he deserved. He had much he did not deserve and to be thankful for. He approached the room quietly, as the HK droid stared at him with contempt.
“I caution you, meatbag. Should you cause any disturbance it will be my pleasure to annihilate you,” it said almost proudly. He did not blame it.
As he entered, Commander Cianne did not turn, but merely stared up at the holo in front of her. It was of a pleasant looking man in an imperial uniform. Arcann should feel uncomfortable - or at least as if he was intruding, but he didn’t. He merely looked at her, trying to decipher her. It was odd seeing her out of her armour, as she was dressed in a black silk robe that could be mistaken for a sith’s robes, if not for the delicate nature of the fabric. It clung to her, showing of her womanly curves. It didn’t reveal more than her armour did, but merely a softness that her armour could never portray with justice. Her long dark red hair hung loose, as her yellow eyes kept looking at the man in front of her with longing. The colour of her eyes and hair was the only thing showing that she was part pureblood sith. There was no pure malice in her, even though Arcann knew that her eyes could be mistaken for it. Her red facial tattoo echoed the colour of her hair, and it made her seem regal. Fitting he supposed, for the new Empress of Zakuul.
His father had declared her his Wrath incarnated, but Arcann saw more than her rage. He saw what inspired it. It was not longing for power, but a duty to protect and an honour he knew most purebloods regraded highly. She was also pragmatic and diplomatic - doing what was necessary to create allies rather than foes. Her spirit felt as familiar as a reflection, and it pained him.
“Why did you lock me in carbonite? Why not just kill me?” She asked finally not turning, but simply looking at the holo.
“One of your former companions?” he asked stepping up next to her.
“My husband,” she stated, her voice emotionless.
“Forgive me.” He replied in the same tone.
“You couldn’t have known,” she dismissed in a low voice.
“I took you from him. Since you are looking at this, I can only assume…” he paused as he saw her face and a single tear streamed down her cheek. He had never known the outlander to shed a tear. Until now he had only seen her fury, her remorse and witnessed her compassion. This tenderness in her did not surprise him, but it still struck him more violently than he had expected. Maybe it was for that reason alone, that he had never expected her to show it.
“It’s been six years since I saw him last. I have looked for him, but there doesn’t seem to be a trace of him. I thought that with the broadcast on Zakuul that he would find me, but he hasn’t. He is dead,” another tear spilled.
“He could yet live, but simply be unaware…”
“No. You don’t know him. He is brilliant, intelligent and fiercely loyal - once he is convinced of your might and honour,” there was pride in her voice as she spoke.
“Why did you let me live? Why help Senya, when I have cost you so much?” his remorse was heartfelt and his question genuin.
“I have been hurt and betrayed before. Forgiveness has always made me stronger in the end. And I could not rob your mother of another child. She deserved to see you become, who you were supposed to be,” her tears had stopped falling, but she did not dry them of her face.
“Thank you,” he replied in a low voice, and stared directly into her eyes as she turned to face him.
“Why did you not kill me?” she repeated the original question.
Arcann paused. What could he tell her? When he had captured her, he had seen a strong woman willing to sacrifice everything to protect her people. He read about her and was genuinely impressed by what he read in the databases of Darth Marr’s ship. In his father’s throne room, he saw the reflection that would haunt him. One as familiar as his own face, but so very different. When she spoke and when she acted, he saw Thexan. So when she was on the floor unconscious, he could not bring himself to kill her. Angry and jealous as he was, he could not make himself repeat a deed that reminded him of Thexan’s fate. His silence had been long, when she broke it.
“You imprisoned me with your prized possession,” she added.
Still he was silent.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because you were too beautiful to kill,” his answer surprised as much himself as it did her. It was true. She was beautiful, even with the scar close to her eye, but that was not what he meant - entirely. Her soul was what captivated him, and was what made him spare her life.
“That was unexpected,” she replied a little dryly, though her expression was still surprised.
“Yes.” was his only reply as his hands grabbed a tender hold of her. He had no clue why he did it, but in an instant he felt his torn lips pressed against hers as he pressed her to his body. Though she was surprised, she hesitated for only a moment before melting against him. When she responded he deepened the kiss further and found both of them moaning as their kissing intensified. When she began pushing him towards the bed, he began opening her robe and pushing it off her shoulders. As soon as it hit the floor he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. As he carried her to the bed she began undressed him, and as they hit the mattress he felt her varm skin against his.
As he laid next to her in bed, he watched her sleeping form closely. She looked so peaceful, but he could not take any comfort from it. He thought about how he for years walked by her carbonite prison and looked at her looking much like she did now. It haunted him. He sat up and rubbed his face, with his remaining hand. She had not been disgusted with his marred face or shied away from his metal arm, even though he knew how cold it was. When she turned on her side he looked at her face, and felt a fondness sneak into his heart. He knew that a part of him should feel ecstatic, but he felt nothing but disquiet. He got dressed and was ready to leave her, but gave her a final kiss before exiting the room while she slept.
Several weeks after Arcann had spent the night with Cianne, he had barely spoken to her. Not because any of them tried to avoid each other, but they merely acted normally and nothing had changed between them. Still he caught himself looking at her, when no one was watching him. And he did feel unsettled, when the new imperial recruits joined and Cianne was right in her usual spot. Standing in the hangar, pretending to be preoccupied, but still searching the crowd for a familiar face.
“You should go talk to her,”
He was a little startled as he turned around, only to see Senya looking at him with a sad smile.
“With what purpose?” he asked coldly, but his mother gave a chuckle.
“I have seen how you look at her. It would do you both good with some happiness,” her voice was kind.
“She has a husband,” his tone was even, yet it did not fool Senya.
“I see... That explains a lot. Must be very painful for her, since she never mentioned him,” sorrow was carried like a song in her words. Arcann turned on his heel and walked towards his shuttle.
“Where are you going?” Senya asked with insistence as she followed his footsteps.
“I am going to find her husband.” he stated.
“With what purpose?” she asked as if he had gone mad.
Acann stopped in his tracks and turned towards her.
“If her husband is dead, I will have given her closure. If I find him alive, I will have atoned for some of the pain I have caused her.”
Senya reached out and caressed his cheek, her eyes filled with empathy for his emotions. All the goodness Thexan had in him, he had from their mother. No wonder his mother and Cianne had formed such a trusting bond.
“I will be careful, mother,” he vowed kissing her forehead before boarding his shuttle and leaving Odessen. His mission; find Malavai Quinn, consort of the Emperor’s Wrath.
4 years after the disappearance of the Wrath
Quinn sighed heavily as he looked down on the bodies at his feet. It was going to be difficult to dispose of them. But that was not the worst of his worries. After the disappearance of his wife the Horizon Guard had hunted him mercilessly. He had wondered why Arcann hunted him, when they first appeared in their home on Dromund Kass. He later discovered that the Horizon Guard was loyal to the Emperor’s sister, Vaylin. Quinn came to the conclusion that she must have been seeking further revenge on Lord Wrath for killing her father. He shuddered to think what had befallen his beloved, but he refused to believe her to be dead.
He had gone as far as he could asking for help, but he had received no aid. He would have done more - should have done more, but he had her legacy to protect for when she returned. Because she would return. So instead he had been slicing his way through every relevant relay and become a rather decent information broker. Not a life he had thought to live, but it was the best choice for the Empire - though the Empire he had fought to protect was long gone. He was dedicated to his wife, and in his mind, the Empire was nothing without her. He became devoted to her legacy - a cause her other companions had long forgotten. It was probably his search for answers, that made the Horizon Guard start hunting him. In the beginning they had merely send sky troopers. The machines had invaded their home on Dromund Kaas first, and then hunted him down on every Imperial planet he put his foot on.
Much to his dismay he had finally decided to leave Imperial space, and gone to Cianne’s and her sisters stronghold on Nar Shaddaa. The Hutts had remained neutral in the conflict with the Eternal Empire, and with the stronghold belonging to a former Cipher Agent, it was so entrenched in paperwork and aliases no one knew who it actually belonged to. He had lived on the disgusting planet for two years, but they had finally caught up with him. This time they did not send Sky Troopers. Though they were skilled and dangerous, they did not anticipate Quinn’s cunning - or his several hundred traps. He sighed to himself. He would not be sorry to leave Nar Shaddaa, but he did so loathe where he would have to go next. He had hoped to stay in a civilised part of space, so that he might find news of his wife, but after four years even he was losing hope. Instead he focused on the task at hand. He quickly disposed of the bodies. Next would be to get to the spaceport unnoticed. He knew that he would have to get rid of their ship. The ship that was their second home and where he had fallen deeply in love with her. He felt his heart tighten uncomfortably at the thought of leaving the last thing she owned behind, but he knew he had no choice.
He packed his things in a hurry, before making a final round of the stronghold - making sure he had everything of personal value with him. He instructed his niece, Temperance, to do the same. The girl had been in his custody since she was 5 and was now 17. He had lived with Cianne and Quinn after they got married. She had been distraught when Cianne had disappeared. Now he had dragged his brothers child into the life of a fugitive and he felt guilty.
“My place with you, uncle,” she smiled fondly before she walked into her room to pack.
He went to the bedroom, where two little bodies were sleeping. He started by waking his son, who had just turned 6. Carefully, Quinn sat down on the bed and caressed his son pale cheek and gently ran his fingers through the boys black hair.
“Father?” the boy asked sleepily while rubbing his golden eyes.
“We are going on a trip,” Quinn offered kindly - anything to not alarm his young children. But his sons senses were as keen as his mother before him. Even at his young age he understood the severity of his father’s mental state. Having his mother’s brave spirit as well, the boy merely nodded and started to get dressed before packing all his favorite toys and then his sisters.
Quinn then walked over to his little girl. She had not yet turned one, when her mother disappeared. None of his children remembered their mother and he had been their sole parent for most of their lives. But as he brushed his daughter red hair, he was struck by how much she was like her mother. The little girl had Quinn’s eyes and was as separated from the force as he was. But her looks and her kind, forgiving nature was her mother’s rarest quality. He could not bear to wake her, so he merely had Temperance pack the remainder of his daughters clothes, before wrapping her up in a blanket and carrying her to the speeder. Leaving the stronghold both of his children had fallen asleep in the seat next to him, while Temperance looked at the lights of the metropolis. Quinn hoped that the crude ship he had bought - a former bounty hunters of all things - had a hangar big enough to drive the speeder in without waking his children - the Wrath’s true legacy.
“ My legacy is yours, Malavai ,” a memory corrected him with fondness, and he had to smile.
He hoped he was doing well enough to protect it. That she would think that he did right by her and their children. Quinn was fully aware of his lacking in abilities. He was not kind and loving as she was - surely not as forgiving. He could not be a female role model to his daughter and never teach his son the ways of the force. But protecting them was his duty. It was the only task that kept him sane. It was his atonement for his betrayal, and he carried his burden with pride. They would take the ship to Hutta and live in an abandoned house - forgotten in the polluted swamps. He would have to remove any form of communication from their lives. He could not risk them being found again. If fate was kind, his wife would be alive and the force would lead her back to them. Because in order to protect their children, he would have to give up on finding her - for now.
Odessen 1 month after the Wrath ascended to the Eternal Throne.
Having spent most of the day inside, it surprised Cianne, when it was raining outside. The clouds were dark and filled with the sorrow of haunting memories. When she found herself in the new command center, she looked out over Odessen behind the glass. Her eyes closed unbidden as she listened to the rain. The sound of thunder reminded her of Dromund Kaas. Her stomach twitched uncomfortably. What had happened with Empress Acina, was not in any ways troubling to her – she had experienced worse. But walking in that city again, where her and Quinn had built up their lives, was sickening. She looked for him through the corner of her eye, and had to keep herself from excitement, whenever she saw an imperial uniform on a man with black hair and pale skin. The sight of their home covered in dust and long since abandoned – sickening. It was the same feeling she had, whenever new imperials showed up on Odessen. The bittersweet feeling of hope, that turned into dread and sorrow. Her old master – even her father – would have told her to take strength from it. Let her anger fuel her power with the force, so that she would become more powerful than ever. Her jedi companions, would tell her to be at peace and let go of her sorrow.
Another strike of thunder triggered a memory.
The storms on Dromund Kaas were always forceful, but that day it seemed to take a greater hold than usually. She loved the storms. She loved the tranquility of the raindrops against the big windows and the powerful tremble a loud thunder would cause. Everything the Sith taught her was that she should seek the power, and Jaesa would claim that the tranquility was the true goal. But to Cianne these storms represented the perfection within the force. Completely balanced. The force was not just a master to guide you or a slave to your will. Cianne had learned it could be an equal and something more than mere dark or light. Not that she would ever dare to say such things loud – except for when teaching Jaesa. She heard the sound of the door behind her opening, but she did not turn. She felt her husbands presence, but had to smile as she did not hear the sound of his military boots. He had undoubtedly left them downstairs with the weather being so wet. A simple detail, but the fact that he had not put on new ones proved that this was his home. A place where Quinn did not follow his uniform to the letter, and was just himself. She looked at his reflection in the glass as he neatly put away his jacket and approached her only wearing his shirt, trousers and socks. She let go of a pleasant sigh as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She closed her eyes, as she enjoyed the comfort of his warmth against her, and was rewarded with a kiss on her temple.
“Hello wife,” he smiled, the memory of his proposal always hidden in that statement.
“How did it go?” she inquired still leaning her back against his chest and looking out into the rain.
“I did send you a full report, my lord,” his tone knowing full well that she did not read it.
“I know. I’m sorry. I felt unwell,”
“Is everything alright?” he asked with great concern already trying to move away to get his scanner, but she merely held him in place.
“It’s nothing,” she assured him, though the noise he gave as a reply told her that he was not entirely convinced. Though instead of pushing the subject, he answered her original question.
“Jaesa did remarkably well. Her gift is of much use to her during these missions and she is truly coming into her own power. I know she is still uncomfortable with the mask, however. Though she hasn’t mentioned it. Her dedication to you is much to her credit,” he explained with a professional voice, however, his hold on her remained casual and loving.
“There is a lot of pressure on her. I should go see her in a little while,” Cianne replied with some thought.
“A wise idea, my lor-“ Quinn replied, as she interrupted him.
“Bedroom.” Her tone was even, though he gave a breathy chuckle.
“My love,” he corrected fondly.
“I hope it is not too great a burden on her. If she gets to burdened it might blow her cover,”
“Impersonating the Emperor's Wrath is no small feat, but I believe she can handle it. Her largest concern is doing your will justice, I believe,”
“With you to guide her, I believe the two of you can do no wrong. I trust your judgement implicitly. Still, they are my responsibilities and burdens,”
“A trust we do not take lightly. She will be fine and with the mask hiding her face and compensating for the voice, I do believe our secret remains intact,” Quinn tried to comfort, “Besides, in a few months it will no longer be necessary,” she shivered as he kissed her neck, and his hands gently stroked her growing belly.
“Have you been terribly bored?” he then asked with a knowing smile on his face.
“With Temperance and Vette in the house? Never,” she chuckled before kissing him again.
“I missed you, Malavai,” she hummed as she turned.
“I missed you too, my love,” his lips caught hers in a tender kiss.
She did not realize that she was crying until her hand reached her cheek. She had lost the only man she truly loved, and her children, whose small faces she could barely recall. Would she even recognize them, if she saw them? They would certainly not know her. Every day she had looked for them and had Theron attempt to track them down, but without any luck. Mourning and loss filled her heart. She looked at the datapad in her hand. She had read Quinn’s last letter to her times beyond counting. She turned to Arcann’s letter to her, and she felt disquiet: “ And now I have you. ”
Arcann’s kiss still hung on her lips weeks later, while the taste of despair lingered on her tongue. The heat of his touch still burned, rather than giving comfort. She was a betrayer and a deceiver to her husband’s memory. A manipulator of Arcann’s feelings – and now he had left with little explanation as to why. She looked into the clearing sky and missed the absence of the rain. Her way was clear, and as she decided to atone she whispered: “The shame of my past actions, and my love for you, will fuel me for eternity.”