One Minute After Midnight

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"Are nothing." He finished her sentence for her. It was not what she would have said of course, far from it he would guess, but that hardly mattered. This girl had been beaten, broken, like so many others that he had taken from here. She would not come easily, but to Vrak that hardly mattered. Time would build her up, time would allow her to become something that she could have only dreamed of, something that he could use.

Not this sniveling wretch.

"Your freedom is not their to give." Vrak's voice turned cold. "It is mine."

The weapon was still held out. "This is not an offer. This is not a choice."

It may have seemed that way, but in truth Vrak would be dragging her out of this room kicking and screaming. She had power, strength enough to match some of the Purebloods back home. That was significant, enough so that he wouldn't even bother with convincing her if it came to that.

"The Masters will say nothing." The lightsaber rolled towards her. "For you will silence them."

 

[Irid]

It was somewhat of a shock to hear, ill-words never mind ill-thoughts were rarely heard in regards to the Masters. Those who did express such, those not born but rather taken either returned broken, or never returned at all. You fit into the mould, or you were broken into it.

However, this man was the same man who held sway enough to command and bark at the guards here. This man who could kill a working slave without a beat, disregarding all consequence that might arise from such.

This is not an offer.

This is not a choice.

Thus far, statements true to her own life but what was she supposed to do. Deep within her heart Irid knew that she did crave such things as freedom, but it was buried beneath rigorous ideals, set firm in stone by the Masters.

So then the idea of her silencing them herself was utterly horrifying. She practically recoiled from the weapon. Fear writ large within brown, timid eyes.

“N-no! I am obedient! I...I am good....”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

Vrak only had so much patience. Every now and again, boredom got the better of him. He saw the potential of the girl, knew what power she could hold in the future, there was no time to argue. He knew that the Queen would be upset if she killed too many of her guards, but a point had to be illustrated, a simple one. Slowly Vrak placed the weapon in front of her, leaning down to whisper to her. "You will be free."

With that he stepped away.

He didn't expect her to do anything on her own of course, not now, but that didn't mean he couldn't induce something. Slowly The Pureblood wandered over to the other end of the room, stepping to the door and knocking on it. There was a slight lull of silence, and then the slot pulled open. A pair of eyes stared back at him for a moment, curious, their expression disdainful. It was the same guard that he had screamed at, the one that very likely now disliked him.

"Get in here." The man knew better than to argue with Vrak. Most of the guards knew exactly who he was, what he was. There was a loud click of locks, and then the guard stepped inside. HIs armor rattled for a moment, and then he stood by the door. Vrak looked at him for a moment, then towards the girl. "Kill her."

One could almost hear the pleased snarl from the man.

Within half a second the Soldier drew a vibro-blade, stepping towards Irid to kill her.

 

[Irid]

You will be free.

Was it a promise? Or a threat.

The weapon was left before her as he stepped back and her eyes followed him, both frightened and curious about what his intentions were. Frightened, as it turned out was the right word, for when the guard came into the room he was given the order to kill her.

“N-no!” came Irid's feeble protests, “I haven't....haven't done anything wrong!”

The guard didn't care. He sneered, weapon drawn and approaching her, the intent to kill written clear in his eyes. If she did nothing she would die. If she defended herself...

...well, death was still a possibility.

But how could she even fight? She was nothing. A slave, a tool, an animal. If they wanted to put her down then she should have laid down and let them. But that wasn't the point in this, was it? The crimson man didn't do this because he wanted her dead. No, even through her lack of education she could see as much.

Scrambling off the floor, she picked up the weapon with her favoured left hand. Ever backing away from her would-be killer. It took a moment of fumbling to find a switch. Snap-hiss. The emergence of the red blade caught the guard by surprise. Why was she holding a Sith weapon?

He stopped, expression one of perplexed rage as he looked to the Sith, eyes wondering just why exactly she had his weapon. He held enough disdain that he couldn't help but speak out right there and then.

“Is this some kind of fethin' j-”

The lightsaber penetrated his chest, red blade protruding out of his back with its sinister glow.

It was instinct just as much as it was fear. Fight or flight. He was going to kill her otherwise! In his moment of distraction she had struck. Dashing forward with a swift stab to the chest. It was an action out-of-character, one that Irid was very much aware of the moment after impact. She stumbled backwards as soon as it had happened, letting go of the hilt and leaving the blade, still sitting within the man's sternum.

Immediately she crumbled, both the slave and the guard falling to their knees but both for very different reasons.

“No....no, I didn't...he he h-he was going to....he was....I'm...sorry....I'm sorry!”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

The lightsaber hilt dropped to the floor with a muted thud a few seconds after Irid let go of the small cylinder. The weapon wasn't meant to simply stay on when dropped, an fortunate fact given that it likely would have cut through the three floors beneath it without much trouble. The weapon fell to the ground with a soft reverberating thud, rolling away, smoke trailing from it's end. Vrak watched the girl break down for a moment, staying silent even as the door to the small chamber hung open.

No doubt other guards would come soon, but he wasn't worried about that.

The little test had worked out better than he had hoped. He had expected the girl to fight of course, but he hadn't expected her to kill the Guard. The Pureblood had thought that perhaps the man would lose a limb or an eye, but his life? No.

A happy coincidence really. "Why?"

Vrak asked calmly. This was the beginning. It was a beautiful thing, though he knew that the rest of this would take time. The door swung open, a gust of wind pressing it. The rusted hinges let out a loud screech as Vrak slowly moved towards where the girl was groveling.

"You did what you had to." He told her quietly. "He was going to kill you."

He was the reason for that of course, but nevermind that fact.

"You defended yourself. You seized the opportunity." That had been the point of course. Sure she was apologizing, she feared the consequences, but she did not yet realize there wouldn't be any, at least not here. The guard had been nothing, no one. A nameless face with little potential and no strength at all. She had done the right thing here, she had been correct in her actions. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

"Just as you will again." He stepped in front of her. "Take your freedom."

This game would never end.

 

[Irid]

Why was she sorry? Irid looked up to him, eyes full to the brim with fearful disbelief. It...had happened so quickly, she didn't even think. He was distracted. It was a chance. Her own innate need for survival betrayed her fears in that second and then it had abandoned her in the aftermath.

“...I k-killed a guard!” the slave practically blubbered, “...that's not....I..I don't...I did wrong!”

Laying a hand upon a guard was a hefty punishment in itself. Actually killing one? That was a death sentence, without a shred of a doubt. If was confused about her future before, then things were a lot more simple now.

Death.

Or freedom.

“They....th-t-they'll kill me....they're going to....”

Her mind was one part self-preservation and five parts utter panic. Not so obedient any more. Irid lacked any clear clarity on what had really just happened, and was unable, in that moment, to see who was actually responsible for her accident. All that she knew, was that she either had to leave now, or stay and own up for her disobedient actions.

She flung herself at his feet. Not the most composed murderer on Zygerria.

“I...I have to leave...they're g-g-g-going....to...kill...m-me,” Irid wailed, her hands desperately grasping at the man's feet and legs before looking up at him, practically grovelling, “....h-help me!”

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"You will help yourself." That was really the point of all of this.

He didn't expect her to fight every Zygerrian guard that walked through that door of course, that was silly. He would give her his own protection. As long as the Queen and her Consort were properly compensated for the loss of their slave and guard this incident wouldn't even be worthy of rebuke. They hardly cared about two slaves and a guard, not when they had an entire world to run. Not to mention that Vrak himself was an honored guest.

The Pureblood motioned towards the door.

Any minute now half a dozen Zygerrians would probably come rushing through the doorway. They would see the body, the lightsaber, and then immediately assume that Irid had somehow broken free. He would stop them from touching her of course, but not before he had his way.

"Pick up the lightsaber." She likely didn't know the word for the weapon she had used, but context clues would be enough. "It is yours."

The weapon meant nothing to him.

To her however it would be a symbol.

"We will leave this world. You will leave it." There was no other option for her now. If she stayed, if she tried to be a good little slave they would kill her. She had slaughtered one of the Guard's brothers. Even if she was on perfect behavior from this point forward, she would never make it to the weeks end.

 

[Irid]

Help herself.

How was she supposed to help herself?! Her entire life was lived on the commands of others. You didn't just pick up crushed free will in a day. Then again, you didn't just watch a friend die and kill another in a day either.

Perhaps it would come in time, the ability to truly choose for one's own self.

Do or die.

It wasn't quite taking her freedom as he so desired, it was just a change in whose commands she followed. A change of ownership. A new Master. For the time being, at least. It would make transition easier, if his words held weight. Then perhaps one day...

...no, such thoughts were too far-fetched at that point in time.

Still trying to find the barest ounce of composure she scrambled upon hand and knee to the foreign weapon, what she assumed was the lightsaber. Irid clutched it in her hands, feeling a certain weight of burden towards the weapon. Eyes flicked over the guard's corpse. Regret and fear mingled in her mind.

Finally she stood.

Hands still shook. Chest still rising and falling in a frantic rhythm. Was this it? Freedom? Could she do it? There was no other choice. Do or die. She looked to the doors. Guards would be coming now, in any second. Dirt-encrusted sleeve wiped away at still-tearful eyes, still afraid.

“...I...I...”

Try again.

“What way...do we go...to get out?"

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

He chuckled. The question itself was filled with a certain amount of ignorance. She couldn't help it of course, no one had ever taught her any better, no one had ever shown her just what Vrak or someone like him was. She would learn in time though, he was more than confident of that.

"The door of course." Vrak said as he half turned to her.

The sound of clattering boots and armor could be heard down the hall.

Vrak paid it no mind, instead choosing to speak further with Irid. Every few seconds the tromp became louder, every heartbeat it seemed to sound out more and more. It didn't concern him of course, but for her it must have been as bad as a screech in the ear.

"I am free." The first guard showed just as Vrak turned away from her. "You are free."

The man turned the corner, saw the body on the floor and instantly drew his word. He stepped forward and into the room as if he were about to strike towards Irid, but then suddenly he stopped. Vrak simply stared at the man, cold eyes bringing him to heel. The Zygerrian watched him for a moment, then slowly took a step back. Those in the hall followed his steps, moving away from the Pureblood. "We are free."

Vrak said as he moved out of the room and passed the guards, obviously expecting Irid to follow.

 

[Irid]

The question was more in a sense of, 'where do we go to leave the planet' but her life had been so devoid of humour thus far, so his obvious answer was very much lost upon her.

A sound of thunder.

Heavy boots and armour. It was like a stampede that could only suggest death, her death. She stood there, lightsaber in hand, eyes trained upon the door as if hell was ready to emerge from its frame. It was pure terror. Irid could feel her heart thump in her chest, quicker and ever quicker. Frantic. The blood rushed in her ears in an accompanying roar.

Was this it?

Thumb shifted over the hilt of the lightsaber, ready to spring forth that red blade once more. She felt like prey. In the next few moments she would be free, and it would either come from her death, or her escape.

The first came. This was it. His weapon drawn, ready for her blood. She found herself frozen in the moment, but then...so did he. The slave stood, with adrenaline coursing through her veins as the guard withdrew his assault, the rest in the hall following suit.

That was power.

Silently, she followed the crimson man.

Perhaps one day...

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

There was no question of what to do next.

The guards would most certainly report this little incident to their commanders, and those commanders would go as high as they could. Eventually this would reach the ears of the Queen. Vrak knew that if he didn't make amends sooner rather than later the woman would become ornery. It was best to avoid that, given the womans control over this world.

She would never hurt Vrak, but...well her demeanor would serve to annoy him if he decided to stay another day.

"You will be bathed and provided with a new set of clothes." He fully intended on at least making this girl presentable. There was no possible way he could be walking around with something that amounted to...well a street urchin.

If he returned to Athiss with Irid in her current state the Council would have his head.

"Keep the lightsaber with you at all times." He commanded. "It is what will mark you as free."

No one else would have such a weapon here. "We'll meet with the Queen tonight."

After Irid had been prepared.

 

[Irid]

Hot running water was a luxury never known to her. A bath, a proper bath. It would have been mad to some that the girl didn't even know that they had existed.

Sonic showers had been the standard in the camp. Once a week. Health reasons, likely. It wasn't as if the masters really cared about their personal hygiene, I mean, they already considered them to be disgusting creatures as it were.

Yet Irid took little pleasure in the unknown luxury. She sat huddled in the water hugging her knees up to her chest. The dried dirt from her skin tainting the clear water and turning it into an opaque brown. Naturally even being there felt wrong, a slave's instincts said that she didn't belong here. A creature like her didn't take baths. She should have been getting punished. She should have been dead.

But she wasn't.

At the very least, it was a respite that gave her time to think, time to mull over the events that had turned the slave's entire world upside down. Viyers. The crimson man. The Force. Freedom.

The lightsaber sat upon a counter within the room and for a while she just stared at the weapon. It was the instrument that had slain her friend but she felt a strange, stark emptiness when she looked at the device. Should she have mourned? Was he her friend? It seemed as if he was hiding more from her than the girl had first realised.

Were all these things about her true? Was that why he wanted to take her away? Why didn't he tell her? Why did his untimely end not fill her with sorrow? Irid supposed that death was a part of their life. Slaves died or disappeared often enough that one became numb to it. Whether they were sold, broken or slaughtered, it was a way of life.

She didn't dwell for much longer, knowing that she would be required to meet with the Queen, a petrifying prospect in its own right. So the girl finished up, being sure to scrub any and all traces of dirt from her skin before dressing herself in the finery that was left for her.

It felt wrong, but she did it regardless. It was what had been asked of her.

Once she had finished, Irid presented herself to the crimson man. The lightsaber hilt held firm in her hand, a symbol of freedom, or so he had said. Without the dirt encrusted upon her visage, the fear of still being upon this world sat even clearer. Meeting the Queen.

Perhaps she would never see tomorrow.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

For a moment Vrak simply inspected the girl. He carried no weapon, his only lightsaber having been given to the girl. He did wear finery that matched hers in some ways, though the piercings through his nose and ears were a clear contrast to the dress she wore. After a few more moments of inspection he nodded approvingly. She would have to be given a handmaiden to properly dress back on Athiss, but that would come after she had been...properly introduced to the ways of things back home.

It would be the right thing to do. This one needn't be torn down, that work had been done for him. No, this one needed to be built up. She was a broken, torn little thing, and breaking her more would only hamper his goals for her.

She would become strong, a powerful tool for him to use within his conquests.

"Do not speak." He doubted that would be much of an issue for her in all honesty, she was quiet as a mouse normally, as were most of the slaves here on Zygerria. They had all been beaten once too many times to actually want to take a stance for themselves. It was pathetic in a way, but he supposed that all slaves were pitiful in such manner. Irid would be changed eventually, changed of her cowardice, but not yet.

Not for some time in fact.

"Even when she asks a question of you." That was the important part. "Say nothing to her."

He turned away from her. "She bears you and your kind nothing but malice. Anything you say, even the truth, will be held against you."

Vrak told Irid no lie. The Queen of Zygerria vehemently opposed humans, no matter their lineage, strength, or origin the Queen despised them all. It was an interesting fact given that her mother had been a close ally of Several Sith in her lifetime, even one or two Queens. He shrugged, realizing it didn't matter, and then quickly began to lead Irid down the halls of the palace.

 

[Irid]

It was daunting prospect.

Common slaves did not ever meet The Queen of Zygerria, but their loyalty was expected absolutely. Were she to ever grace the pits with her presence then it would have been likely that they would have all fallen like dominoes to the ground at her feet.

Not speaking seemed like an easy task.

Not speaking when asked seemed like an impossibility.

Irid did not doubt any of the ill-will that would be given in the proceedings. It wasn't just the fact that she was a slave, a creature, no better than an animal in her eyes but there was also the small matter of the problems she had caused, the guard she had killed. Of course, it was all orchestrated by the crimson man, but who would receive the blame in the end?

She nodded at his instruction, seemingly pre-emptive in her silence and then followed him throughout the palace. Eyes staring down upon the floor until they reached their hallowed destination.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

The palace was a gaudy thing, even by his standards. Purebloods liked to bow down to their own egos, but this...well this was a little bit more complex than even he would have put together. Many stone statues of the Queen herself, dozens of portraits, golden chandeliers inlaid with crystals and other gems. It was like walking through the halls of...well a poorly animated film. He sneered slightly as they passed a portrait of the Queen whipping a group of slaves.

The painting was a joke in it of itself, Her Majesty had never punished nor trained a slave a day in her life. She had always had others do it, her husband or one of the servants. She was a demented little thing, foolish beyond all measure. She was an ally, yes, but...well hardly one that Vrak considered worth keeping around, at least if there was a better replacement to be had. He shifted slightly, weight falling on his foot as his hands pressed against heavy wooden doors.

"Remember." He told the girl. "Silence."

Whether she would keep to that Vrak had no idea, but as the doors opened to reveal the grand hall he couldn't help but smile. Either way the evening would be fun, and no matter what occurred Vrak would leave Zygerria with a victory. He'd already killed a Jedi after all.

"Lord Nashar."

The greeting came from the Queen above her throne as Vrak paraded down the hall, each side of him clustered with a thrall of Zygerrian nobles. "Your Majesty."

He took no bow as he approached, instead stared the Queen directly in the eye.

 

[Irid]

As if she would forget.

The décor of the palace was truly lost upon Irid. Well, with the exception of the floor, which even then was still worth much more than her own life. A white swirling marble, the type that went so well when everything was gilded with gold and silver.

When they entered the grand hall the young woman's head seemed to stoop even lower (which didn't seem entirely possible). She didn't dare make a single glance at even the nobles that seemed to surround them like dignified predators and the slave certainly couldn't see that the man she accompanied had his head held high.

The Queen's voice went through her, causing the small hairs on the nape of her neck to stand on end. Legs wavered, instinctively wishing to buckle so she could throw herself down and kneel. It caused a small stumble, but she kept walking forth, focus completely placed upon the floor.

She didn't belong here. She could feel the heat of gazes upon her back like so many lashes before. This was wrong. It was all wrong.

Her feelings upon this did not matter, however.

All she had to do was not speak.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

The Queen seemed to scrutinize...well everything.

She had a hawkish nature about her, like a bird of prey inspecting what would be its newest food source. Vrak would have found it unsettling had he ever considered himself prey to anything, but...well he did not. Least of all to some Beggar Queen that tried to raise herself up on the backs of others.

Purebloods respected only power. If you were not powerful to hold onto your own throne, then you didn't deserve it. "Your Majesty, I will be taking my leave this evening."

It was a simple declaration.

"With your...trouble causing slave."

It was clear that she didn't quite know what to make of the situation. One of her Guards was dead, she'd lost a slave, and now Vrak was taking the other one. The situation did not suit her very well, and she knew it just as well as Vrak did. That was part of the point of course, why he had dragged Irid in front of Her Majesty in the first place. He wanted to incite rage, to make her angry. It was a petty thing, but already he could see the fire in her eyes.

"Indeed." He said simply. "Is there an issue with that?"

 

[Irid]

Irid thankfully missed the Queen's gaze due to her downcast eyes. Likely for the best. The girl would have possibly withered upon the spot were she to catch the way that she imagined the Zygerrian looking at her.

At least she had the crimson man with her, or Lord Nashar as he was seemingly known to be.

The words 'trouble causing slave' burrowed deep within her skin. She had always been so well behaved, so obedient. Irid had always done what was asked of her and had never strayed from instruction. Well, that was of course until the day's events.

It wasn't her fault Viyers had been killed, but she had, however been responsible for the death of a guard, a much more serious offense.

Clutching the lightsaber hilt, she remained unmoving with her head down.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Irid"]

"She killed one of my guards...one of my slaves in cold blood. Endangered you. I can't have her leave this world."

Vrak smiled. "Endangered me? Your Majesty, you underestimate me."

The woman upon the throne bristled at the comment. She didn't like the thought of Vrak having more power than her. He didn't, in a way, back on Athiss he didn't even sit on the Council. She ruled an entire planet. If she turned against him with everything she had then she'd be able to overpower him in seconds, but he knew she wouldn't dare. That was part of playing the game, reading the room. The Queen was terrified of him, of what he could do to her while her guards swarmed him.

"This slave poses no more harm to me than a flower." He gestured to Irid. "She wouldn't hurt me."

He turned to the Queen who by now was finished with him and was instead staring at Irid.

"WHY SHOULDN'T I KILL YOU?!"

The screech made her sound like a madwoman. It echoed through the chamber and burst from the Queen. Vrak blinked, but stayed quiet. The woman knew that she would get nothing from him, and thus she wished for a reaction from Irid.

One she would not get if the girl listened.

 

[Irid]

Thankfully the girl very much lacked a spine, so when the Queen stated that Irid had killed one of the slaves, in cold blood no less, she was slightly affronted. The slave had only killed the guard because the situation was thrust upon her, she wasn't the one who had removed Viyers' head from his shoulders.

Although she held the weapon that did.

It was commonplace for people to talk about slaves as if they weren't in the room. They weren't creatures fit for civilised conversation. They only spoke when it was asked of them, well, except on this occasion. If she could manage against the struggle of slave's instinct.

The Queen's screech bought forth a flinch from the slave, her voice demanding so much when she had been instructed to give so little. The need to throw herself upon the ground to both grovel and beg for forgiveness and her life grew ever greater. Legs trembled. She was scared, terrified.

Yet her gaze did not lift, and her lips did not move.

---

[member="Vrak Nashar"]