Private Spoils of War

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Rich and sumptuous stood the halls of the Hasuras warship. No sterile vessel this, with halls of white and black, but rather laden in the wealth and splendor of a dozen and more sacked worlds, from the far-flung Firefist to those of the war-wracked Core. Within this vessel, a Hapan Ducha taken captive awaited her fate, locked away in quarters filled by true-books of real parchment, a fine rug, and even the bed of a now-dead sorcerer. No weapons, though, nor any sharp instruments or objects, or any access to the holonet.

Soon enough, two Vahlan corsairs interrupted her quietude. They wore alchemized swords and loose-fitting clothes all frilled in gold and their neck and wrists festooned with gems and precious metals. In harsh words, with little to soothe their sting, they ordered her out of the quarters and marched her to the cabin of their chief.

The door hissed open.

"The coveted Ducha," rumbled a voice, low as the tremors of the earth.

The corsairs pushed her inside, then the door sealed shut behind her. Before her, the overlarge cabin spilled out, hung with immense tapestries, the fur of some slain beast formed the massive rug upon which she stood. The stuffed head of a Terentatek loomed from a wall, along with many other trophies and paintings beside. Weapons too, of all fashion, hung from the wall or else rested in cases or stands about the cabin. At the far left end of the cabin stood an immense bed, for surely it would need to be to fit the being who sat to her right, at a simple wooden desk. Even devoid of his armor and seated, Gerra still towered over all but the tallest of beings. He looked up from where he had been hunched over what appeared to be an assembly of a gauntlet and rings scattered across the desk - truly more a work bench than a scribe's desk - and grunted. Also upon it lay scattered a half-dozen rainbow gems.

"Your Queen is dead," he pronounced flatly, his features as impassive as rough-hewn granite, save for the eyes, which blazed forth like twin embers.

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

Head high, wearing garments that were not her own, Aurellia stood like she owned the place, after offering a jab at the guard who put his hands on her. Status had spared her what horrors her fellow Hapans surely endured, but quaint or not, her quarters had still been her prison - and she had no love for her captors. As such, at every turn, she had made things as difficult as she could for them. Escape attempts were unfruitful - but the wrath that contorted their features when she provoked them, unable to truly act on it lest they harm their master’s new prize, that power sustained her. A mere scrap of dignity, but one the ducha seized without forethought.

The Lord sat behind the desk, tinkering with toys. Gerra, she had heard the men make him. Or, she thought this was Gerra. Surely, he wasn’t the raw meat eater? The developing sneer snapped instantly at the mention of the queen mother. So, Mercy had been successful, then. At least some good came out of this ghastly ordeal.

“Pity.”

The tone suggested it was anything but. Aurellia sauntered to hover near the desk, eyes picking apart the projects strewn across its surface. Two fingers reached to pluck a gem from among them. It glittered as she turned it over twice, before casting her amber gaze sidelong. If there was any intimidation about his size, it didn’t break the curated mask.

“What price would you put upon me? I’ll double it if you deliver me home before one of my ladies gets the silly idea to try on my crown for size. House Revali has treasures aplenty to add to your collection.”

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Tall she stood, for one of her kind, and imperious despite her station. Defiance shone in that gaze of burnished copper. A proud woman, who would not bend to cower and kneel. Many begged and pleaded at this point, mewling as lambkin. Yet here she issued demands and called for ransom. Nor did she seem to care for the death of her queen. Perhaps she saw it as merely an opportunity, a vacuum of power.

The gene-warrior studied her with a molten stare as he might examine a lump of metal before putting it through the crucible.

"You would barter for your freedom," he rumbled in an impossibly deep bass that made the air itself thrum, "and ask me to name a price. Tell me, does a jeweler place a price on the unexamined gemstone? Your House could not defend you, let alone your homeworld. It would be but a meager task to assail it again and strip bare those halls. Should I signal the helm to turn around for a second strike?"

His words held but little malice, merely probing her as the dutiful jeweler might hold a gemstone up to the light to examine its flaws and inclusions. She did not yet ask for the lives of the other Hapans they'd taken as captives, nor ask after their fates. A curious thing.

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

"You could certainly try," Aurellia asserted, doubt coloring her features. "But you were not the first to plague Hapes. I was intelligent enough to store my fortunes away, off-world, after the first."

Bluffing, to an extent, she worked to protect the facade from cracks. Some liquid assets had been left on hand - but for all she knew, they were already aboard the ship, as well. And besides, Hapes had endured as much conflict as it could bear - already the capital was rubble, again. An assault upon the smaller estates stood to weaken their court and her position in it beyond repair. Still, a remark of his piqued her interest. Laying the gem down, her fingers glided to sweep aside the other materials cluttering its edge. Aurellia perched herself atop the polished surface to gaze down upon him. Neither speech nor vessel marked him as a common marauder.

"You want my cooperation." The statement dripped honey. "I am worth more than you'd think. Surely, making an ally of the new Queen Mother is worth more than selling her as a dancer or a bed warmer?"

A risky gambit. Until coronation and anointment, she was no goddess, merely another contender draped in ambition - yet her current hand held few other cards worth playing. The question probed, looking to see what type she was dealing with.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

"Perhaps," Gerra allowed, brow furrowed at her movements and, slowly, he got to his feet. Tall was he, and thick of limb, his arms like ill-cut stone and hands worn calloused by fighting and the forge where he spent most days. The depths of his eyes churned, a molten fury at a constant simmer, bubbling up now at the ploys of the Hapan.

"You think yourself a clever charmer, vixen," he rumbled, reaching out a hand to wrap it around her throat with a hideous strength that brooked no equal save perhaps one.

"Do you seek to beguile me with grace and beauty and witty tongue? Think me no more than a common raider? Do not toy with me, woman," the words reverberated in the room, the shifting of a slumbering volcanic wroth, "I know of your kind. I studied you long before our raid. You think men feeble beings. Tell me, Ducha, do I seem feeble. I could break you apart with but a thought and feed you to my hounds."

For all the sudden ire in his words, his hand did not bear down upon her to make good his remark.

"You place high value upon your worth. You should thank every moon of your world that I despise the Panathans, else you would indeed be sold as chattel."

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

The fragility of her size against his was made painfully aware with his grasp encompassing her neck. The warlord's strength bore down, threatening to cut off all oxygen. Pride was a powerful thing - but it was not unbreakable, even for Aurellia. Eyes widened, both in disbelief that he would dare handle her like this, and sheer terror. One hand clutched the desk for any leverage she could manage. Weakness was an unfamiliar garment, and the fit of it turned her stomach.

"No." She managed to choke out from beneath his fingers. "Not... feeble."

Every word was an effort. They were even more valuable with the volatility of his nature and her position both. Another misstep, and Aurellia thought he may make good on his threats.

"Not... common. I see... the finery... hear... a noble's tongue."

Heaving breaths accompanied each word. Desperation became apparent.

"Let me... offer... gift..."

Gasp.

"Legitimacy."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

The choking grasp slackened, becoming more a collar of callouses and sinew than a vicegrip.

A grim and vile satisfaction bled from Gerra at the sight of her pleading eyes and shattered veneer the way one of his tuk’ata might stand over a kill in triumph.

“A gift. Even now you seek a deal,” he snorted, “Think not to sycophancy. I will suffer no ill-wrought praise. No matter how finely fashioned the lips that might sing them.”

His fingers parted from throat to find her chin, forced her to meet his molten gaze.

“Speak.”

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

Looking up from under brows, resentment oozed to replace fear. Every inch of skin crawled at the thought of ground about to be given. One hand floated to her throat and rubbed as heaving slowly faded to normalcy. Surrender was a better fate than death. The offer to come was not without it's silver lining, she knew; a foreigner and the houses would keep themselves busy for ages, figuring out how best to gut one another.

"I will ascend the throne when I return to Hapes, and I will need a consort and an heir."

Gone was the flair of allure and glamour. The words were venomous, precise, and powerful enough to stand on their own. Despite the treatment of men on her world, the royal consort was still afforded all the luxuries of the crown - and there was no door that would not open across the larger galaxy. Who would refuse the Queen Mother's consort?

"Take my hand to do with what you will."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

“As I will,” rumbled the giant in thought, a frown creasing his brow, though his fingers still held her defiant chin.

So certain, this woman, even in the confines of captivity and beset by present peril.

Her words gave Gerra pause, for in truth he had not expected such an offer, had thought her too proud and strong of will to brook such agreement with the lord who had but a few days past set reavers upon her world, snatched up jewels and persons both, and caused untold destruction in his wake.

And what of this deal, would not her people rebel at the thought of an alliance with the very Vahla who had hewn down their own in anger and greed? The Firesworn looked into her eyes and though he was ne’er as farsighted as some among his siblings, he saw the fault lines of fate far clearer. A smith was he, and one of no meager skill. Before his gaze, the alloys of worlds unfolded and revealed their secrets. So too with the destinies of the living.

He could see the fault lines spreading out, a path yet unchosen, which led to their two lines intertwined. Oh, it would be a hateful thing full of bared fangs and hurled barbs, yet even still… he saw she would from here spring forth anew, a bird of fire, to rule over the Nebula. His presence would draw out those opposed to her rule and from there she could root them out as one burns away rot, toss them into the flames like so much chaff. These she would sacrifice on the altar of her ambition, along with her dignity. And what did such an offering bring her?

She must suspect he had no inclination to rule over Hapes, he who had set his feet to tread across the jeweled thrones of the Core. No. She wanted his specter, his shadow, looming in the halls and corridors. Whispers of the Vahlan Consort she had tamed. Tumors of a warrior who would set worlds ablaze in her name. Yes. She wanted the fear of him and his armada to be yet another arrow in her quiver.

He did not reject the offer out of hand, for who could deny her allure, unsurpassed. A face for which star systems burned and fleets sailed. He had expected a lioness, all bared fangs and snarling, but instead found the cunning of an adder.

“How many would throw themselves at your feet, begging for your hand?” Gerra mused, “Countless. They would call me a fool to toss such a proposal aside… They have not seen what I have seen.”

He ran a thumb across her cheek, though his eyes had not softened - still smoldering with the fire of his goddess.

“There is a greater mantis in the Firefist, large as a rancor. She spends all her days in solitude until she finds need of a mate. She finds them willingly, flocking for her attentions, and chooses at her leisure. After she has chosen and their purpose fulfilled, she eats the lesser male. Devouring him whole. His presence no longer necessary.”

Gerra’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you think yourself the mantis? Will I wake to find my flesh devoured by poison once you have what you seek, your freedom and your queendom?”

Another brush of the thumb along the line of her jaw, cupped in that hand of ghastly size.

“Or is this a true offer, knowing that my might could carve out the splendors of the core and bring them to you on gilded platter.”

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

They have not seen what I've seen.

A shiver rolled up the back of Aurellia's spine with those words. As the embers bore past her into another time, the ducha wondered what kind of twisted fate he gazed upon to make even a beast such as he recoil - but the thought, however grotesque an experiment, mattered little. No suitable noble match was ever a happy one. That fact she had been groomed for since birth. This unholy alliance - no matter what awaited the pair at the end - stood to keep her alive. Further words alluded to some sort of wizardry as he felt out every thought of the future that her mind had already considered. Nostrils flared as the thought of being bound by some destiny she was not privy to ate at her. So she challenged it, rising from her place on the desk to peer up at him.

"Would that I could take a lesson from the mantis's book." With that statement, Aurellia inched closer from where she had been pinned to the desk to gaze up at him, so close that the warmth of his torso radiated like a blaze. "And though it may have been born of circumstance, it's not unfavorable."

Only the slightest hint of deception tainted the admission. Hapan would have been preferred, weak even more so, but Gerra's power had promise. In her days of captivity, the thought of the fleet being fitted for her command in the Rim often kept her occupied. The image was so vivid that she could nearly feel the heat of the torches as they molded sheets together, and hear the clangs as, bit by bit, the fleet the Black Sun had promised her came into existence. It would be nearly done now, and, intertwined with the likes of the Vahla ships, would form a nigh unstoppable force.

"No, I am no mantis." She finally decided, eyes sweeping over the warlord. "I am a queen who means to build a dynasty that etches their name amongst the stars. Even now, ships rise for me in the Rim, doubling my naval power. I would see my reign dawn in flame and splendor, so the galaxy remembers my line in awe and in fear alike."

A hand rose to envelope the fingers that touched her face.

"A true offer, to bind us and build a legacy."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Not unfavorable.

The warlord gave a grunt that spoke but little of his inner musings. She wouldst use him to achieve her own ends. And yet, did he not think himself a hammer, forging a new destiny for his brethren? Why shirk then to be wielded by so beatific a hand? Nay. He should assent.

They were wanderers, the Vahla, spreading out as searching candles to find their long lost home. The Sith Order would give them no peace and presented challengers far more dangerous than the honeyed words of the Hapan, though such might still carry poison.

Perhaps the transitory mists would form a suitable base of operations for their exploration of the deep core. She wished to forge an empire, to leave a legacy. Logistics of such an alliance sparked through his mind and at last he gave voice to deep thought.

“You would command a fleet of corsairs greater than any in the galaxy,” he rumbled, “enough to rival the navies of the great powers in the Core and eastern expanse.”

His hand dropped from her face, heedless of her touch, and rested upon the desk.

“Very well. I will sell those disloyal to you to the Sith and the Syndicate. Those whom you name I shall spare and free. When I came to Hapes I came not as conqueror but as a raider and ravager. Tell your people what you must. That you tamed their bane and freed your own.”

His eyes smoldered.

“But do not think it true in the privacy of your heart. Know that I am not some yearling colt to be bred. I came to Hapes. I saw the splendor of your cities beneath the moons. And I took as I pleased.”

Aurellia