Tyrian purple, Palpatine´s niece (OC), 23rd vignette of 25: answer

another look at Nagina through the eyes of one of her friends

 

I like how you tie these Vignettes together, giving them, and your Rage, Rage story an extra layer and glimpses of different viewpoints; with this giving some extra layers to the one with Orson at the night club. No wonder she doesn't think highly of him; and he's quite an ass for spoiling a birthday party (again?) with his ego.

 

DarthUncle: I must confess that earlybird-obi-wan was my teacher here, even though she might not be aware of it. For years now I have been reading her fanfics where she weaves her OCs into multiple stories, constructing something that comes close to a medieval tapestry.

This is what makes my approach to Nagina different than to my "Legends of the Force" epic.

The Orson at the night club story, seen from the point of view of Matese (vignette 14), was difficult for me to write. At times I am not sure what is allowed on the boards. Especially when hot Twi´lek dancers are concerned.

Nagina has a totally different point of view when it comes to the Twi´lek race. She grew up with foster siblings from Ryloth by her side (and here I will have an answer to the Disney challenge soon!!!), had colleagues and door-to-door neighbours from there.

 

Ups, double post!

 

Okay, because you asked for it. Another vignette, DarthUncle.


Title:“Karma”, a Nagina vignette

Author:@AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor: DarthUncle

Time frame: The story takes place about 2 weeks after RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice: Chandrila

Summary: A special guardian is out on her watch post in the middle of the night. But in the end her help is not needed. All is well, even though the moon of Jedha and the holy kyber crystals are doomed.


When the dark wood fell before me.
And all the paths were overgrown.
When the priests of pride say there is no other way.
I tilled the sorrows of stone.

I did not believe because I could not see.
Though you came to me in the night.
When the dawn seemed forever lost.
You showed me your love in the light of the stars.

Cast your eyes on the ocean.
Cast your soul to the sea.
When the dark night seems endless.
Please, remember me.

Then the mountain rose before me.
By the deep well of desire.
From the fountain of forgiveness.
Beyond the ice and the fire.

Cast your eyes on the ocean.
Cast your soul to the sea.
When the dark nights seems endless.
Please, remember me.

Though we share this humble path, alone.
How fragile is the heart.
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly.
To touch the face of the stars.

Breathe life into this feeble heart.
Lift this mortal veil of fear.
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears.
We'll rise above these earthly cares.

Cast your eyes on the ocean.
Cast your soul to the sea.
When the dark night seems endless.
Please, remember me...
Please, remember me...




Chandrila has two moons. You can clearly see them in the night sky, when you gaze up. Because you are very attentive, you happen to know their names: Chandra and Chandrakant, 'moon shining' and 'beloved by the moon'.

Sanskrit is your favourite language. You grew up with it. Not here though. Right now you are on the tramp, as the Guardians of the Whills would call it. You have a calling, a mission.

An individual is driven by karma, the law of cause and effect. For destiny is created by thoughts, words and deeds.

The day you saw Nagina on the temple steps, you felt that she was in dire need of a companion. It was a truth within your feathered chest. By instinct you landed on one of her shoulders, creating a light-shield for protection. An easy mechanism for you, nothing more than a reflex of your mental muscles.

You start to clean your plumage.

Devotion is not just a word for you. It is your goal in this life. You lead seekers on an inward journey of self-discovery.

Opening your beak wide, you yawn with relish.

Until very recently, you rose with generations of protectors of the kyber. You went to sleep when they did. They where your hatchlings, your family.

But you left them.

Jedha is lost. It is a fact.

But Nagina is not lost yet.

The peaceful concert of the crickets suddenly comes to a total stand-still.

You crook your head.

Two humans have entered the veranda of the farm house. One of them is Nagina.

“Will the Empire destroy the Holy City, Orson?” she demands to know, her voice loud enough that you can hear her up in this tree.

“Why would we do that?” her companion asks straight back, his arms folded.

“Because religious life seems not to fit into the new order.”

“I find any religion a waste of time, to be honest. People should believe in themselves and not an 'ism'.”

“Yet you serve...”

“Stop right there, before you say something unconsidered and vile, Ina!”

“I am not vile!”

Soundlessly, your tail lets go of the branch you sit on.

In order to achieve a better view you hop down a couple of branches.

Of course, you can feel what is going on. You sense the auras of the two speakers as clear as day light. But you need to look on Nagina's face.

You can see that Orson leans in on her. “Under your sweet façade there is a rebellious heart, ready to betray the Emperor at any given moment. I told him as much on Scarif and he just smiled at me. He seems to get a certain kick out of the possible damage that you can cause to all of us.”

“Call it a well calculated risk from his point of view.” Nagina's nose tip touches his. “With you at my side there is little I can do, is there now?”

“I am not so certain. You are as slippery as a river trout.”

“Of late you give me a lot of animal names, Orson. You even sing rude songs during a birthday party. Not just any birthday. Mine.”

He rolls his eyes. “Self-control is hard to muster around you.”

“Am I not lucky that you are no Sith,” she mutters. “You would have Force choked me a thousand times by now.”

“People can be choked by the Force?”

“Some Force-sensitive folk out there have telekinetic powers that you cannot possibly imagine.”

“I am an architect and engineer,” he remembers her gruffly. “Imagination is a pre for my job occupation.”

“Sheev can even do Force lightening,” Nagina gives to consider. “Which means that deadly plasma blasts erupt from his finger tips, frying everything in their way. I witnessed how his mother's face melted from her skull. How her eyes cooked in their sockets.”

“Keep your horror stories to yourself, Ina! I am not interested in them. My only aim is a high position within the Empire.”

“Then you are the architect of your own doom,” she announces. “Like Grandfather Cosinga he will not tolerate delays or failure. And I cannot be always around to protect you. For I am confined within invisible prison walls on Lothal.”

“You are a little drama queen, Ina!” He throws up his hands in disbelief. “I am a grown-up man who can fight his own battles. And skip that part about being a prisoner against your will. We just went to Jedha because you asked me to take you there. And now we are here on Chandrilla with your foster family.”

Nagina looks like a temple statue, stiff and unblinking.

“You told Dravits and the other idiots about the kyber crystals, didn't you?” Orson accuses her. “Spilled my secrets like breadcrumbs.”

Her voice is small, but you see her aura and are proud of her good acting. “Are you finished insulting me for tonight?” she asks.

You decide to fly off for a snack.

The one who yields is not weak. Not always.

Orson and the Sith'ari are wrong about her. She is a survivor. And you, Bathsheba, will help her to stay around in this universe a little bit longer.


Sources:

The song "Dark night of the soul" by Loreena McKennitt (1997)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Whoever this Bathsheba is, I like her. Nagina seems to have a true guardian angel in this mysterious being, one who understands as she does, that it is better to light a single candle than to sit and curse the darkness.

 

Actually, she is a little spoiler from the upcoming Chapter 23 of the main Nagina story.

 

I love that bird

 

earlybird-obi-wan: It is always difficult finding picture references for a convor. Or do you mean that you like the bird that I portrait in my text?

 

The bird

 

Your answers are as cryptic as the ones of a very old Jedi master at times, earlybird-obi-wan.

 

I like that painting and especially the bird

 

earlybird-obi-wan: Thanks for confirming that!

 

DarthUncle: This one is for you!



Title: “Shades of the night”, a Nagina vignette

Author:@AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor:DarthUncle

Time frame: The story takes place about 2 weeks after RotS (19 BBY).

Planet of choice:Coruscant

Summary:Without his master being around a Sith apprentice roams a library full of forbidden treasures. He comes across something that he has not expected to find. Something that makes him question the being he pledged himself to quite recently.

Disclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company

I've been looking for an original sin
One with a twist and a bit of a spin
And since I've done all the old ones
Till they've all been done in
Now I'm just looking then I'm gone with the wind
Endlessly searching for an original sin
I've waiting for you since you've been born
I'd watch you secretly but not for long
And since I know all your dreams
I understand what you need
And when I call you you must go where I lead
Your dreams are so hungry it's time now feed
So I bless you with my curse
And encourage your endeavour
You'll be better when you're worse
You must die to live forever
I will show you the depths of the night
We can never go wrong
Together we can take it to the end of the line
My eyes are like a shadow on you all of the time
And since I know all your dreams I understand what you need
And when I call you you must go where I lead
Your dreams are so hungry it's time now to feed




Of course you felt it in the Force that your master is not around on Coruscant. It is like an ache.

Your HoloNet call got answered by Sate Pestage instead. He seemed more than gleeful when giving you the news. You came anyway.

To show up in front of your master's chambers without invitation is a bold move, but not even the Red Guards on duty stop you.

“I told you so, Lord Vader,” cackles the old slimo, who surprisingly has been made Grand Vizier of the Empire. “His Imperial Majesty is not at home. He is not even on Coruscant at present.”

You wonder why he has gone without you. And most of all you ask yourself where he is.

As if the former advisor can read your mind, he prompts, “He has left for Scarif at short notice.”

You don't know of such a planet.

“It's a little known Oceanic world with tropical islands,” Sate Pestage offers. “In future it is going to be the location of a high security database. There is also talk of turning it into a training centre for the army.”

On one hand it is nice to get informed about such matters, but on the other hand you ask yourself why your master has not briefed you about it personally. You are his right hand. Not this sniffling lizard like creature in front of you.

Since your master found you on the lava shores of Mustafar, broken and mutilated, your relationship has changed profoundly. In the past you had been encouraged to seek his wise council all the time. Now it seems he is hiding from you on purpose.

You cannot stop the feeling that you are a disappointment to him. That you are not the Sith apprentice any more he has been waiting for. Is there perhaps another?

Anger bubbles up in you, but you keep a lid on it.

“I would like to wait for him in his library, if you don't mind.”

Politeness is not your thing, but neither ranting nor begging would achieve anything here. There is another option though.

Sate Pestage looks up to you with his crooked nose wrinkled. Without warning he snarls, “Why not.” He really considers your request. “If you would care to follow me, milord.”

The guards step aside.

With a hiss the electrical door opens.

You feel triumphant, but your steps are heavy nevertheless. They lack the agility of youth that you possessed until Obi-Wan sliced you down like a loaf of bread. The new cybernetic limbs hurt you all the time.

The private library is still the same, but you are a different person since your last visit.

“This will do,” you say more to yourself than to your companion.

Standing in the centre of all the ancient books and scrolls you feel a tremor of power inside you. Dark side power that is. You embrace the feeling.

“Please feel at home!” Sate Pestage suggests and walks out on you without any explanation.

You do not mind to see the elderly man turn his back on you. Even through your breathing filters his aftershave is hard to bear. When you are sure that he has really left, you start walking around.

The vault like room is dimly lit in order to protect the gathered treasures. It is the total opposite of the Jedi library that had been spacey and bathed in light.

You gaze at a collection of holo books, countless data sticks and a large variety of what you believe to be ancient Sith literature. But you spot no holocron which disappoints you a bit. Perhaps your master keeps them elsewhere, not close to home.

With a smile that hurts you a lot you consternate that the Jedi had no idea that there was a Sith lord here on Coruscant until it had been too late. His alter ego had been too perfect.

Suddenly, you spot a book that seems out of place in here. Its spine is too colourful.

You crook your head a bit, which is awkward for you. You are still not used to wearing a helmet night and day.

Curious, you reach out for the book. At random you open up a page and are faced with a jimvu, a large reptile that lives in the swamps of Naboo.

In a moment of temporary weakness you lean against the nearest bookshelf. Your vision gets hazy.

Padmé had a book like this. A fairytale book. It was meant for the child.

You place a gloved fist on your chest, as her smiley voice sounds through your head. “I could go early-and fix up the baby's room. I know the perfect spot, right by the gardens.”

You concentrate hard to focus on the present, start skimming the book. You find an inscription on the front page. It takes you a long time to decipher the two words that are written in Aurebesh.

For Nagina.

“Attachment is forbidden,” you thunder before you realise the source of your quote.

The Jedi indoctrination still exists at the bottom of your soul. It might take another thirteen years, perhaps twenty years to vanish from your mind altogether.

Without warning the voices in your head start.

The first to speak is the love fool, “I thought we had decided not to fall in love. That we'd be forced to live a lie, and that it would destroy our lives.”

And then Padmé answers, “I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway. I truly, deeply love you, and before we die I want you to know.”

Suddenly, the door opens and Sate Pestage comes back in. “Lord Vader, I have to inform you that the Emperor decided to stay on Scarif overnight. Something came up.”

It costs you immense energy to come back to the present.

You shove the book back where it belongs.

“Are you not well, milord?” the Grand Vizier of the Empire asks, barely able to hide his gloating.

You go for the direct approach, not keen on diplomatic side detours. “What is Mistress Samye's first name?” you demand to know.

He blinks, totally taken aback.

This name has meaning to him. You see emotions drift over his womp rat like features.

You raise your right hand and open it slowly.

“There is no need to crush my windpipe,” Sate Pestage offers quickly. “My godchild is a danger to the Empire.”

Life still holds surprises for you.

“Please do not tell His Majesty that we spoke about her! Her existence in his life is a state secret.” The plea in his eyes is truthful. “She left him on the morning right before the Jedi coup.”

He presses a folded flimsi note into your hands. More unknown text for you to overcome.

“This is in Aurebesh,” you state and hope you are right. “Why don´t you read it to me, when you badly want me to know what she wrote.”

Gingerly, Sate Pestage takes the letter back from you and starts to read it in his unpleasant voice.

Dear Sheev, Koriban is such a cold, gruesome place. You can only find death and destruction there.

To become the Sith'ari means never-ending night and loneliness. You told me once, that those who do not remember the past shall relive it. And it seems to me that you do not wish to remember. Not even the nice things we shared together.

I still wish you would reconsider your choice. The door is still open. All you have to do is to walk through it.

My heart is torn in pieces as our galaxy is.

Good-bye! Nagina

For a brief moment you remember some of Padmé´s last words to you.

“Anakin, you're breaking my heart! You're going down a path I cannot follow!”

You bite on your lip and the pain brings you back to the present.

“And what do you think about this shoddy effort?” Sate Pestage fumes. “I made sure that His Imperial Majesty never got it.”

His annoyance with Mistress Samye is very clear. You feel it like a black cloud hanging above him. “Is she the reason why he travelled to Scarif?”

Nervously, he licks his lips. “I-I can't.”

“That won't be necessary.”

You feel grim satisfaction.

The dark queen of the Empire is not Sly Moore. It is a fat kindergarten teacher. Who would have thought?

Sate Pestage crawls closer to you. “Nagina is a thorn in my side since many years. She cannot be controlled. She cannot be tamed. He is simply besotted by her.”

It should bother you, but strangely it does not. “Do not try to make her my problem!” you hiss.

“But she reveals secrets to all that are willing to listen to her,” he protests, his face a contorted grimace.

“Tell Colonel General Koslov about the leak!”

He stares at you as if he is dealing with a mad man. “Vladimir is afraid of her and her foster brothers.”

“Foster brothers?” you echo.

Infuriated, he puts his hands on his by far too feminine hips. “Dravits Draven, Berch Teller and Crix Madine, of course.”

Only Teller rings a bell. You make a mental note to check out the other two men just mentioned. “What about Colonel Yularen?”

“He won't bother about it either.”

Inside the privacy of your helmet, you roll your eyes. “Then ask Madam Director Isard for help.”

“Nobody would touch Nagina,” Sate Pestage growls. “Especially since she managed to get friendly with Prince Xizor and Krennic.”

“Krennic?” You lift an eyebrow.

“Well, that miracle architect and master schemer.” He is flustered. “Since years Krennic has been waiting for a chance to get to her. Now they are on Scarif together.”

Your master, usually wise and powerful, has gone to a backwater planet just to get his lover back from another man.

You laugh inside your head.

But to be honest, you lack the imagination why all those powerful men swarm around Mistress Samye like bees around a hive. It cannot be for her looks or her intelligence level. Perhaps she has other qualities in a different compartment.

What troubles you though is that she obviously knows the Sith graveyard word of Korriban. How deep is she privy to the secrets of the Sith?

You should pay her a visit of respect soon.


Sources: The song “Original Sin” by Count Krolock in the Musical “Dance of the Vampires”(2002)
Quotes from the movies “Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones” (2002) and “Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith” (2005)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars WikiJedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Interesting with Vader finding out all of this

 

earlybird-obi-wan, Sate Pestage is looking for an ally against Nagina. Of course he is spilling the beans. After Jedha he is desperate to get rid of her.

 

I love the "you" POV that you use for these & the glimpses of past and present for Nagina and her family. Love precocious Mara & prudently cautious Bail. Lor is a treat to read also.

 

Intriguing, Vader finding out all this information about how his master is a human being after all, even though he doesn't know all of it yet. And I like the increasing incredulity as apparently noone dares to take her on. Oh, that's an angle with the Disney Challenge you just posted, where Pestage is thinking Tarking might be an ally in this? ... Not good news. But I'm eagerly looking forward to read about it nevertheless!

 

I found a comment from Nehru_Amidala in the most unexpected place the "Fan Fiction and Writing Resource", a place that I advice both writers & readers to visit from time to time. Not only for reading the rules, which prevent you from running into trouble like I seem to do a lot of late. mavjade & Briannakin also put up reasonable other threads in there, that are worthwhile reading and/ or knowing about (such as the challenges).

Anyway, Nehru_Amidala wrote:
AzureAngel2 said: ↑

The 5th vignette is up!​

I read your vignettes and they are really good. I really like how you use quotes from real life and interweave them into the GFFA. Nagina is an interesting character, and I'm glad she was rescued. Adding in Crix Nadine as a foster brother was a nice touch, and I like how she has friends in high places. I also like how she is a teacher, as I also work for the public school sector. Can't wait for the next installment.

This proves that my husband DarthUncle is right. I do have readers who follow the things that I do. And sometimes, when they have time on their hand they comment on my work.

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: It is nice to see had you back and commenting everywhere. Not only in my threads! And I am still relieved that your disappearance from the boards had nothing to do with me or my writing. My husband still shakes his head that I really thought so for a very long time.

DarthUncle, I cannot repeat myself often enough: thanks for believing in me non-stop, being supportive like last night when I cried out my eyes in front of the computer because I had extreme trouble to post and pushing me forward like the policeman from the special unit does during the Self Defence Course all the time. At times I do not think that I deserve a husband like you.

I discussed Vader with Cem_Fel on the phone a lot recently and I hope that my version of him will be to her liking. If I ever write about Thrawn, I am sure that @MsLanna/ Etain will ignore him with a shrug for her version and that of Timothy Zahn himself are the only expectable ones.

Since I got the German audio play of the SW novel "The Dark Lord" I wanted to Sate to be the slimy spider, the true villain here. But along the way I found all the other people who might have "ein Hühnchen mit Nagina zu rupfen"/ "een rekening met Nagina te vereffen"/ "a score to settle with Nagina".

And since you showed me this *Spoiler*



I cannot forget about it. (But that also might be due to the hair crime in Kenneth Branagh´s face. Which causes me to shiver.)

If there is something bad happening, I certainly will not make it easy to show who it was and how.

But perhaps nothing will happen to her and it was a hoax to give her the chance to disappear from Orson Krennic´s attention and to live a happily life ever after with Lor San Tekka. Who knows? After all I have read some BATMAN comics in the 80ies that my older brother had lying around.

 

And here it is, my latest update, before we travel the long way to the local SW barbecue dinner meeting, DarthUncle and I.

I spent some time writing it last night. And my husband tried to spot all of my mistakes and the text weaknesses. Mind you, we are both not native speakers. But writing my fan fics in German and, even worse in Dutch, would grant me a much smaller audience.

I am a bit anxious posting this, because it contains another subjects that are very difficult to speak about. If you read this, you might have a clue what they are.




Title:“Girls just wanna have fun”, a Nagina vignette

Author: @AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor: DarthUncle

Time frame: The story takes place about 4 months after the start of the Clone Wars (22 BBY).

Planet of choice: Coruscant

Summary: In the middle of the night a member of the Separatist army, and therefore a war criminal in the eyes of the Republic, is ordered on an unusual mission. The person who sends her on that mission is not someone to be trifled with.

I had to escape, the city was sticky and cruel
Maybe I should have called you first
But I was dying to get to you

I was dreaming while I drove
The long straight road ahead
Uh-huh, yeah

Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide
This fever for you was just burning me up inside
I drove all night to get to you
Is that all right?
I drove all night, crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep to make love to you
Is that all right?
I drove all night

What in this world keeps us from falling apart?
No matter where I go
I hear the beating of our one heart
I think about you when the night is cold and dark
Uh-huh, yeah

No one can move me the way that you do
Nothing erases this feeling between me and you
I drove all night to get to you
Is that all right?

I drove all night, crept in your room
Woke you from your sleep to make love to you
Is that all right?
I drove all night

Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide
This fever for you was just burning me up inside

I drove all night to get to you
Is that all right?
I drove all night, crept in your room
Is that all right?
I drove all night


Leisure time between your war missions is a rare thing. As a commander in your Master's Separatist droid army you have to be accessible all around the clock. On occasion you also serve as an assassin in the employ of the Sith. But in the end you are still some kind of slave. An asset really, a tool.

A long time ago things were very different for you though. You were but a happy, little girl on Dathomir, loved and cared for. Only in your dreams you allow yourself to walk memory lane. Allow yourself to return to the Nightsister lair. To return to innocence.

Count Dooku is a harsh master. But even he serves somebody more vicious and much more powerful: Darth Sidious.

Puzzled, you stare at the hooded holo image of one of the greatest Sith sorcerers to have ever lived.

“I repeat,” the voice says, not even bothering to feign friendliness, “Bring along a pyjama, slippers, a tooth brush and no questions asked. Ever!”

Your lips pinch together in thought.

“Can you do it?” the mighty Sith lord probes, getting more and more impatient.

“Yes,” you answer solemnly.

The amounts of credits this job will bring you is more than generous. It is the ransom for a senator or a princess.

“I'll be in touch! Do not disappoint me!” Darth Sidious grunts and switches off the connection with no further word of good-bye.

Scratching your bold head somewhat clueless, you walk towards your 'wardrobe'. It is but an old, shabby looking utility closet, that used to belong to the former caretaker of this factory compound.

“Pyjamas,” you mumble.

You never had one of those, but one of your tank tops and a baggy trouser might do. At least those items are clean. Worn, of course, but you do not possess much clothing. Not that you have an actual private life going on. Dooku keeps you like a beast on his premises in between jobs.

You twist your hands in agitation.

Being his Sith apprentice is not like you imagined it to be. There is no respect, no fairness. You have to be on alert constantly.

With a sigh, you keep on rummaging through your stuff. You are sure that even a Jedi knight has more articles of clothing at his or her disposal.

Instead of slippers, because you lack those, too, you seize a pair of woollen socks. There is a tiny hole in one of them. If you are lucky, the lady whom you need to protect tonight will not notice.

You start to feel more and more like a street rat. Like one of those low lives you keep running into Coruscant's lowest levels.

Your greatest problem remains that you do not possess an actual tooth brush.

Gingerly, you put your hand in front of your mouth and blow into your palm. Once, twice and, to be definitely sure, a third time.

“Great!” you mutter to yourself. “I smell like a sarlacc pit.”

At least you have the explanation why Skywalker looked so disgusted during his last duel with you.

Lacking mouth rinse you choose to gurgle with some Corellian brandy, which you hide in a special place from Dooku's attention. Usually, you use it just for attending to flesh wounds.

To waste the precious drops of alcohol does not sit well with you, but it cannot be helped. You do not want your subject, whoever she is to Darth Sidious, to go unconscious when you address her.

You give yourself a last check in the broken mirror.

A myriad of Ventresses stares back at you.

The lines of some bogus song you recently heard on Radio Coruscant comes back into your mind.

“Where in the world,
Where in the world,
Where in the world did I get this hurt.
I don't mind.
Yeah I don't mind.”

Dooku's fingerprints are still visible around your throat. All the other wounds are perfectly hidden under your tight leather catsuit. There is no need to worry the subject too much. You do not need her pity.

Cursing the little Huttling who brought your injuries upon you, you stuff your belongings in a backpack.

You should never have accepted that mission. It seemed too easy. Too fool-proof.

For your failure, Dooku water-boarded you for hours, using bantha piss and a burlap bag. To get you back into consciousness he gave you electro shocks with an energy pike. When that was not enough, he wrapped a piece of soap into a towel and gave you a thorough beating.

“Damn you, Rotta Desilijic Tiure!”

You shake a fist against the mirror and leave your quarters.

The LiMerge building is a gloomy affair at night time. It possesses nothing of the beauty of the lair that you grew up in. When you close your eyes, you can almost see the azure light and the opaque pools of water.

It is strange that you have to think of Dathomir tonight. Perhaps the loneliness within this rotting industrial building gets to you after days of hiding and pain.

Kidnapping Jabba's baby son did not go as planned thanks to Skywalker and that skinny Togruta padawan of his.

With a roar you kick open the door of a run-down shack.

The speeder bike that you hide in here is an older model, but sturdy enough to bring you where you need to be.

The address that has been given to you is nearby. It is actually at CoCo town, which is part of the Works.

Of course you could have declined the mission, but it did not seem worth the trouble. To anger Darth Sidious is dangerous and tonight he was strangely emotional. As far as you know he is off-world with your master. Possibly on Serenno. You are pretty sure that he would have taken care of the lady in question otherwise.

A smile spreads over your face.

Perhaps the great Sith master is vulnerable after all.

Not much later you race the speeder through the night, wearing a dented helmet.

In front of the apartment block where your subject lives you pause the machine with your engines still running.

Why have you been sent to a middle class area? Is he hiding his mistress in plain sight? Or did she leave him and came to live here after?

Middle class people are pathetic. The majority of them tries to find goodness in such dark times still. They cling on to fragile hope and a moral compass that is outdated. Only the strong will survive the Clone Wars and its aftermath.

When a shoe comes down on your engine bonnet, accompanied by some rude curses in Rodian, you turn the engine off.

You wish you would know more about the mission and the actual person that you need to guard tonight.

In dismay you take off your helmet and pull a hood over your exposed head immediately.

After the disaster on Tatooine you need to run a low profile for a while. You cannot have informants make known were you are. Neither the Jedi order nor to the notorious under-world boss Jabba should come to know where you are at present.

Instead of taking the direct route – the entrance door with the intercom – you start climbing the façade. You cannot help your instincts as an assassin. It is only three floors anyway.

When you reach your destination, a pale face startles you.

Before you know what happens, a window is opened, you are yanked inside and the barrel of a rifle is directed at you.

“Ban gon wan she co, cah. Noah, noah, Nagina!” Aurra Sing, the most notorious female bounty hunter on the market, snarls without taking her eyes of you. There will be no bargain. No, no, Nagina!

“Chess ko, Nashtah! Coo wolpa tooney rana.” A chubby human in her late thirties steps in the line of fire, showing a grace that astonishes you. Careful, Nashtah! This one's very well connected.

The AS rifle 2000s will blow your head off no doubt. But you keep calm in the face of danger.

You could kill both women without even blinking, but you are too curious to make their acquaintance. Too see what they are capable of.

“When somebody shows up at my window in the middle of the night, I fire straight away,” the female bounty hunter complains in plain basic. “No silly questions asked.”

“Perhaps Mistress Ventress would like a Wookie Cookie,” the plump human wonders and beams at you, as if you were the guest of honour during a party. But underneath her bright smile you detect a pain too great to describe with mere words.

You frown.

“Those cookies are mine and mine alone,” states Aurra Sing and looks mighty pissed off.

“Nashtah, please!” The subject, obviously called Nagina, wraps her arms around the other woman. “Perhaps he sent her.”

You remain on the floor, staring up.

“We don't know that for certain,” says the pale alien in her orange jump suit. “She could also be here to assassinate you.”

Instead of committing a double murder, that would please you immensely, you offer, “I was sent to this address with my pyjamas, my slippers and a tooth brush. My client told me it's an emergency case.”

That makes the chubby human clap her hands together and you must confess that you find her enthusiasm strangely contagious. “See, he worries about me. Since he is with Dooku at present, she would be the only logical choice. To send Grievous would have been too awkward.”

The rifle sinks.

“Awkward? His troops killed your husband last week,” Aurra Sing thunders.

An enormous wail fills the apartment and the human sinks down on the floor. Her tears fall like rain.

“Nagina!” Aurra Sing, her features completely derailed, throws the rifle away. “I am so stupid. Please forgive me!”

You keep watching the women, one holding the other as gently as a friend would. No, you correct yourself, as a sister would.

It brings you back to a place were you should not be right now. To a place where women had treated each other like sisters and men had been of no great significance. Where one could go to bed without fear and terror in the heart.

Aurra Sing rocks Nagina back and forth like a distressed child. “You know what, pumpkin?” she purrs. “Let us pray that beautiful moon prayer of your Naboo goddess together.”

A moon goddess.

Once the Nightsisters worshipped one, too. The dark mother of the crossroads. The one who stood in front of the cauldron and made Magick possible.

You scan the apartment and find a little altar on a side board.

Your subject belongs to the secret sisterhood of the moon. It can be found throughout the galaxy, not only among human women.

Aurra Sing goes on talking. “You know that prayer you spoke, right before you wanted to blow a hole into your skull.”

A muscle twitches in your jaw.

You were sent here tonight to prevent a suicide from taking place.

Suddenly, you begin to understand the weird aura readings of Darth Sidious earlier on. His genuine worry had shone through his darkness.

“H...h..e… he… is… is gone!” sniffs the human.

“Of course your Barin is gone.”

Now you know that this is not only about the mighty Sith. There is more at play here.

“Nobody can stay alive, when a bomb with a blasting power of...”

The howling of the chubby woman increases again.

“Idiot,” you hiss.

The bounty hunter looks up, her gaze like deadly darts.

“You know nothing, Aurra Sing! Don't mention the Dead!” you speak on and while you do you notice the golden ring of the crying human. She wears it on the ring-finger of her left hand. “Never ever!”

Before the pale alien can bite back anything, you kneel down right next to the two women.

“Welcome back, She-Moon!
We’re glad to see you again.
Another cycle has passed
Another month gone bye
And our lives have moved forward.
Today is a new day…”

The crying stops immediately and a pair of big human eyes, their actual colour hard to define, glance at you.

“Was that the wrong prayer?” you ask and a part of you is suddenly anxious.

A shy smile appears on the face of the woman called Nagina. “That was beautiful, but not the one I had in mind.”

Following an instinct, you reach out with your right hand and she takes it, her grip uncertain, but full of love.

“Then teach me your way, sister,” you speak, meaning every word of your request, oddly.

Her smile widens.

“Gracious Goddess of the Moon
Mistress of magic and rebirth
Lady of the harvest
And Mother of the earth
I invite you to join me in this, my rite.
I bid You, Hail and...!”

You do not wait for the word 'welcome' to come forth from Nagina's lips. The Force enables you to take out Aurra in an instance.

Gurgling and thrashing, your subject dangles in the air.

You are proud that she fights back. There is still enough will left in her to fight for her life. That is good news.

“Shooting yourself in the head, you coward?” you yell at her. “I did not come all the way to find your corpse. Or have you crying all the time. My client said something of a pyjama party. Let's do that!”

Her gaze becomes glassy.

You soften your grip on her windpipe.

“Think very hard now, Nagina!” Your voice is above a whisper, but that does not make it any less intense. “I can finish you off now or you can be the wonderful hostess that I believe you to be. What is your choice?”

You stare her down, until you see her mouthing the word 'hostess'.

“Excellent choice!” you praise her and let go of her.

While she sinks down on the floor, yapping like a little pittin, you get up and have a further look through the room.

Unerringly, you pick up the holoframe that shows a bearded man in his late forties.

“Your husband was Corellian, right?” you demand to know.

Still bereft of speech she nods.

“If he died due to an explosion he had a beautiful death,” you suggest. “He became star dust in an instant. That is the dream of every Corellian out there. To reunite with space.”

She looks hurt, but you need to move on.

“But the death you had in mind for yourself is plain stupid.”

Guilt spreads over her features.

“I do not understand what your connection to my client is, but I know him to be a powerful man. Someone who has no time for bantha poodoo. Tonight he explained to me how urgently I was needed here. He even asked me to bring along a tooth brush.”

To see Nagina this broken tugs a bit at your heart.

“I do not have the luxury of a tooth brush. Nor do I have any slippers or a decent pyjama.” You jut your jaw. “But I will tie you and this wermo woman up, guarding the two of you the entire night if I must.”

A big moan comes forth from Aurra Sing, who slowly regains her consciousness again.

“I am even prepared to wait until my client returns to Coruscant. Just to make sure he gets you alive. If he wants to kill you, fine. But you will not die on my watch. Is that understood?”

She nods.

“Good. Now tell me where the cooling pads are in this apartment, because I do not trust you anywhere near the kitchen right now.”

You think of sharp knives and other items a desperate person would use: wine bottles or a skewer.

By holding on to the living-room table, Nagina draws herself up. “I am sorry that I am such trouble to you, Mistress Ventress.”

You grant her a lopsided smile. “I would rather say that you mean a lot of unnecessary trouble to yourself. My client must have foreseen that.”

“Sidious is my uncle,” she offers somewhat shyly, a cute blush on her face making her seem twenty years younger.

“I do not want to know the specifics,” you state. “The less I know about my client the better.”

Yet a part of you is aware that you already gained more insight into his life than you should have. Sooner or later there will be a payback, but not the one you had imagined before, surely.

Aurra Sing sits up groggily. “If you have given that ugly moon face all my cookies in the meantime, I'll finish you off myself!” she curses.

“Of course not,” stutters Nagina. “Here, let me help you!”

While your subject helps the bounty hunter up on the red leather sofa, more memories from your childhood bubble up.

You walk towards Aurra Sing and hand her all the weapons that you have on you. “I want you to hide them somewhere safe until my shift ends here.”

Nagina blushes again, scarlet red this time. Somehow she is as colourful as a rainbow gem. You start to like that. She is a bit exhausting, but true fun at the same time.

The pale alien grasps your weaponry. “Why would you, of all people, trust someone like me?”

“Trust is the most essential ingredients within the Sisterhood I was once born into,” you offer for consideration “and we need it here if we are to live through the night.”

“Sisters?” snarls Aurra Sing. “We ain't no sisters, moon face!”

“Why not?” interrupts Nagina, a new clarity inside her. “All three of us know how it feels to end up at the wrong end of a whip, right?”

Her words are like a fist straight into your guts.

“We are all orphans and came too close to the dark side of the Force.”

You hope she stops speaking or you'll make her yourself.

“What about me renting a holovid movie for the rest of the night? You could make popcorn, Aurra, and Mistress Ventress could go to the late-night kiosk and get us a huge bucket full of ice cream.”

You and the bounty hunter exchange a glare.

“Please?” asks Nagina and looks so hopeful that it touches a spot deep inside your soul you almost had forgotten about.

Aurra Sing slumps her thin shoulders. “No Vegan Toffee Ice Cream, please.”

“No salted pop corn, if you please,” you add quickly. “And no silly love story.”

The pale alien smiles at you tentatively. “Now we are talking.”

“Caramel and cookie dough flavour?” Nagina asks.

You nod and so does Aurra Sing.

When you choose a holovid much later on, it is a martial arts movie.

Your hostess falls asleep half-way through it, her mouth smeared with ice cream.

“Is she always this way?” you whisper.

Aurra Sing considers before answering. “Yes.”

“How long do you know each other.”

“Since a Boonta Eve Classic more than ten years ago. Must be eleven.”

“She is into pod racing?” You raise a brow.

“Sidious is and she simply loves quality time with him.” Aurra Sing twitches her nose. “Well, that is not the whole picture. Anakin Skywalker used to be a big idol of hers.”

“Skywalker,” you hiss.

“Yeah, beats me, too. But that is Nagina for you. She favours the underdogs.”

You bite your underlip, before you dare to ask, “Was she ever enslaved?”

Aurra Sing crooks her head, her pony tail swinging along. “I would say that growing up with a Sith lord is hard.”

You look straight into the face of the softly snoring human. “But he cares,” you argue.

“Not enough, nor in a healthy way, if you ask me.” A hard shadow falls on the pale face. “He should be here tonight, but the war is more important than she is. There will always be things more important than her. His disinterest is not the scary thing though. When he has too much time on hand then his attention is almost crushing her to death.”

“The Sith, huh?” your snort. “Always living in extremes, like boarder-liners.”

Aurra Sing winks at you, but then she asks, “Why are you so keen on becoming one of them if you do not share their values? Why not stay a dark Force user and take all the liberties you can? Living after a codex never bodes well.”

You need to ask. “Are the rumours true that you were once a Jedi, too? A padawan?”

She answers you with a counter-question, “You are from Dathomir, right? Why don't you go back and let Dooku try to win his battles without you?”

The silence is only interrupted by Nagina's snoring.

“More ice cream?” you say after a while.

“Yes, please!”

After you swallowed a spoon full of sweet sin, you have another look at Nagina. “You think she is stable now?”

“That might take a while.” The bounty hunter starts stroking the face of the sleeper. “Mourning usually does. But for now she is fine. In the end she was just lonely and he was not here to stop her considering something very stupid.”

“What will happen if she ever gives in to her darkness?” you muse.

“You mean her depressions or the dark side?”

“Her death wish,” you answer uneasily.

Something glitters in Aurra Sing's eyes and it is not tears. “Then this galaxy as we know it might stop to exist. Sidious cares too much for his niece and might as well blow us all up.”

“I will make sure to check out on Nagina regularly!” you promise yourself.

“You better keep a low profile in that case. She has a breathtaking network. Some of her foster siblings are agents of Republic Intelligence. Then she has friends and acquaintances in unusual places. Oh and her godfather is Sate Pestage himself, an absolute wakamancha.”

You are sure you opened up all gates to welcome death tonight, but in the end you are glad you came here. To be with Nagina is by far more interesting than the LiMerge building at night.


Sources:
Some of the lyrics of the song “Break it up” by Scooter (1996)
The complete Wermos Guide in Huttese, a SW language website
The section “How to speak Huttese” from My Stars Collection Weebly com, a SW website
The Cyndi Lauper re-make (1992) of the Roy Orbison song “I drove all night”
Two wiccan prayers to the moon (goddess)
Bow to a certain HBO fantasy series named “Game of Thrones” and a character named John Snow
The wonderful SW novel “Dark disciple” about Ventress & Vos, written by Christie Golden (2015)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Excellent and realistic post dealing with a very sensitive topic and definitely believable that Nagina would struggle with such feelings. Good to see her first encounter with Asajj here.

 

Took the words right out of my mouth WarmNyota_SweetAyesha - and also, wow AzureAngel2, you also made it appropriately funny, both in the way good friends can deal with such things, and in situatial humour and awareness.

 

Nice story with Ventress. She also had some good in her

 

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Phew, thanks for saying that. I was very, very anxious about this update! Your kind feedback helps to ease my distress about it.

DarthUncle: Thanks for reminding me to finally post my answers in all of my threads! I had so many other things on my mind the past weeks that I almost forgot.

It also feels good that you state that there is still humour in my posts.

earlybird-obi-wan: That she has, indeed. Reading the novel about her and Vos also helped here.

 

Before DarthUncle drags me to the sauna ladies an update of this neglected thread. The following people might like it:

Kahara, Darth_Furio, WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, earlybird-obi-wan, DARTH_MU, Chyntuck and DarthMarly.

If my update list is not correct, please tell me via PM.

I am back at work next week.



Title:“Shape of you”, a Nagina vignette

Author: @AzureAngel2

Co-Author and editor: DarthUncle

Time frame: The story takes place about 22 BBY.

Planet of choice: Coruscant

Summary: A warlord of means tries to bring bad news to his commander-in-chief personally. He is bold enough to overstep the boundaries of privacy. His dare makes him face a person he would never have expected at his master's side. Nor in his master's bed either.

I'm gonna wake up, yes and no
I'm gonna kiss some part of
I'm gonna keep this secret
I'm gonna close my body now

I guess, die another day
I guess, die another day
I guess, die another day
I guess, die another day

I guess I'll die another day
(Another day)
I guess I'll die another day
(Another day)
I guess I'll die another day
(Another day)
I guess I'll die another day

Sigmund Freud
Analyse this
Analyse this
Analyse this

I'm gonna break the cycle
I'm gonna shake up the system
I'm gonna destroy my ego
I'm gonna close my body now

Uh, uh

I think I'll find another way
There's so much more to know
I guess I'll die another day
It's not my time to go

For every sin, I'll have to pay
I've come to work, I've come to play
I think I'll find another way
It's not my time to go

I'm gonna avoid the cliche
I'm gonna suspend my senses
I'm gonna delay my pleasure
I'm gonna close my body now

I guess, die another day
I guess I'll die another day
I guess, die another day
I guess I'll die another day

I think I'll find another way
There's so much more to know
I guess I'll die another day
It's not my time to go

Uh, uh

[Laugh]

I guess, die another day
I guess I'll die another day
I guess, die another day
I guess I'll die another day

Another day [x6]


There are many types of pain. The path that you have stepped on about ten years ago – the way of a Sith apprentice – taught you a myriad of them. Distortions, burns, cuts, major bruises, traumatic dislocations, pulled muscles, bone fractures, internal bleeding. But right now only your pride is hurt.

You never would have thought that a book would bring you down. Especially not a volume on Sith history. When you stumbled over it a page about the seduction of Exar Kun opened up.

The illustration of Freedon Nadd seems to shoot a mocking look at you, his lips curling.

You fight the instinct to kick the book through your master's luxurious bedroom. Jocasta Nu, decades ago your secret lover, would be very shocked that you even consider a deed like this. In the back of your mind you can hear her say in her usually arrogant tone, “Contemporary documents like this need to be handled with great care. They possess an inestimable value for future generations of Jedi.”

You run a hand through your white hair.

The Jedi are not your concern any more. Prior to the Battle of Naboo you left the order and with it the foul politics of the Republic.

Stiffly, you get up again and gather the rest of your remaining dignity around you like a cloak.

At eighty you are not exactly a young man any more. There are times when you feel age gnarling on your bones like a pack of hungry rancors. Darth Sidious, the Sith persona of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, is twenty years your junior. He possesses the litheness of a Tooken.

The unknown woman still gazes at you with the curiosity of a child. Your estimated guess is that she is in her late thirties. She could be anybody. Palpatine's aid, his mistress or even a bastard daughter he tries to hide from the galaxy. You need to find out her true identity.

“Good evening!” you boom, trying to make your operatic bass voice light and gentle.

She does not answer you, just puts her lecture 'Secrets from the Dark Side'away.

A black-and-red pyramid is enthroned on the night stand next to her, producing a familiar crimson glow.

“This can't be!” you get out.

The sight of the Sith holocron makes your blood race through your body. Especially when you realize that the artefact is somewhat broken. A drawer, big enough to hide a book, juts out of its midst. Right now it is empty.

You narrow your eyes.

The occupant of your master's bed is definitely not a Sith. If she is Force-sensitive in any possible way, then her powers are too weak to detect.

You continue scanning her and unblinkingly she gazes back. She hides her discomfort and fear well, you grant her that.

Not even by refined Coruscanti standards she would be considered as large. Normally you like your women skinny just asVicomtesse Elodore of Valahari. Yet there is an undeniable sweetness about your subject of scrutiny. She is like a fresh apple that you could see yourself to devour bit by bit.

Her face is oval, oblong and square. It faintly reminds you of a diamond. The brunette hair is done with two braids running across her head, and the remainder is put into a simple pony tail. Judged by the hair style, you start to wonder if she originates from Alderaan or perhaps from Palpatine's small pastoralhome world.

“My name is Count Dooku of Serenno,” you introduce yourself with a polite bow, your brown coat circumfluent around you.

She does not answer, just keeps starring at you with her eyes wide open in wonderment. It is hard for you to define their true colour. There is brown and green with dots of blue. The iris itself has a ring of dark grey around it.


“I did not know that the Supreme Chancellor would entertain company tonight.”

Your words seem an invitation for her to get up. “And I am very certain that he was not expecting you at this hour and certainly not in this room,” she answers with unexpected poignancy.

Now that she is standing right in front of you, her arms crossed in defence, you take time to let the entire picture sink in.

The woman is about thirty centimetre smaller in height, but weights definitely more than ninety kilogram. The knee length night gown reveals that she must have at least cup seize 40 C. Before you can linger on the promising outlines of her breasts, you notice that the facsimile of Anakin Skywalker is starring back at you.

“Oh, I am a big fan of his since he won the Boonta Eve on Tatooine ten years ago,” she beams and points at her chest. “Sheev and I were there on this very proud day.”

It is not the statement itself that irritates you. She dares to call the master by his true name. Suddenly, you worry how intimate they are with one another. And what she knows about the Clone Wars and the upcoming reign of the Sith.

“How peculiar!” you bite out. “And he really allows you wear a nightgown like this?”

Your bitter tone of voice makes her change her poise. She squares her shoulders like some ringer. It looks ridiculous and cute at the same time. “Sheev actually favours a lot of things.” She takes a deep breath. “Dejarik, popcorn, classical Mon Calamari ballet performances, dirty jizz gigs, execution commandos, sun sets, holo prank calls, order, cheeseburger…”

You hope the list is not endless. If your master ever finds out that you know so much about him, your life will be forfeit.

“… the slow seduction of others and absolute power.” She takes a deep breath. “What he certainly does not like are strangers in his bedroom.”

“I am no stranger,” you point out, somewhat miffed.

She raises a brow. “You claim to be no stranger to his bedroom? Excuse me for saying so, milord, but I don't think that you are his type.”

“I am his confident.”

She breaches out in giggles. “You know how wrong that sounds, right?”

You take a step closer to her. There are many things you would like to do with this impertinent mouth right now. “We still have not established who you might be.”

Before you can reach out for her skin a piercing voice says, “Mine. This woman here is mine.”

You are known to be fearless, but the words of Palpatine makes your hair stand on end. Between awe and shock, you let go of her.

The reaction of the woman could not have been any more different from yours. She falls on her knees, upright. Dropping her butt towards her heels she stretches the rest of her body down and forward. Her arms come to rest next to her body, the palms turned upwards.

This is not how a devoted servant greets her master. She is simply doing Vinyasa, the Yoga pose of 'The Child'. You learned it as a youngling in the Jedi temple.

“Veré, my pet!” praises Palpatine without even casting one look at you. “You have been a good girl as far as I can see. And you managed to stay alive in my absence.”

“I read how Exar Kun surrendered to darkness,” comes the demure answer.

Palpatine saunters closer with the liveliness of a much younger man. Instead of a Sith robe he wears the leather outfit of a speed race biker. He carries a helmet with a dark visor under his right arm. “Tell me, which darkness it was that occurred to Exar!” he purrs. “And please look at me when you speak!”

She unfolds herself again, her thighs perpendicular to the floor still. She touches her inner knees together. Sliding her feet apart, slightly wider than her hips, with the tops of the feet flat on the floor. You can see how she angles her big toes slightly in toward each other. The top of each foot is evenly pressed on the floor.

Now she sits in Virasana, the so-called 'Hero’s Pose'. At least she looks devoted. You would beat the hell of of Asajj Ventress if she ever would dare to kneel so comfortable in front of you. Submissiveness has to hurt and this Veré has not a single submissive bone in her body. Her smile is too smug, her gaze to cheerful.

“Well?” asks Palpatine with almost fatherly patience. “I am still waiting from an answer from my most attentive student.”

Your gut churns.

You are his student. His only student.

“The darkness of his own soul made him fall deeper into the embrace of the dark side of the Force itself.”

He hunkers down in front of her, placing his helmet on the floor. “Last night I gave you a lecture, did I not?”

She nods, suddenly pale. “Yes, you did.”

“In regard of my special instruction, what must you do to better yourself in future?”

There is something soft and tender about Palpatine. Something, you have never witnessed before.

You shudder.

“Be brave!” comes the woman's whispered answer. “I must be brave!”

“And why is that?” His eyes are bright blue in the twilight of the bedroom.

“Because life is not fair and neither is a Sith who wants to teach you something. He will go a great length to scare the poodoo...”

“Veré!” he warns.

“A great length to get the message through,” she corrects herself, wrinkling her nose.

He places a hand in her neck and draws her head closer to place a kiss on her brow. “Don't you forget it!”

Tears stream down her cheeks. “Nothing's forgotten… nothing's ever forgotten,” she sniffs.

“Keep that in mind, Veré!” In cold furry the Supreme Chancellor gets up. “And now out with you!”

The wench does not move.

“Dooku, leave!”

This order takes you aback. “Me?”

An invisible fist takes the air out of you with just one hit straight into your solar plexus. You stumble and fall over the volume of Sith history once more.

“Never enter my bedroom again, imbecile! Nor dare to frighten my poor pet here!”

You stare up into your master's face. “But…!”

“Silence!” he roars. “If I want to hear news from the front lines, then I ask for them personally. Never dare to assume any case of urgency again. All is according to plan. Accept one thing.”

“Master?” you ask.

“Her husband got killed before the Battle of Christophsis was set in motion. Shooting down a Republican troop transporter is one thing, but I do not remember to have given the allowance to fire at passenger ships travelling on the major Corellian Run hyperlane.”

You cannot tear your gaze away from the yellow fire that burns in his eyes.

“The planet of Rodia was not the target nor was the space around it,” he thunders on. “So I keep wondering, what the freck were you doing there?”

He never cursed like this before, nor has he lost is composure like that. The death of his rival seems to be devastating to him. It should be a cause for joy.

“The gunner needed target practice,” you offer as careful as you can.

The smell of ionization fills the air as electrical charges flicker from finger to finger.

“But you don't need target practice, Sheev!” the woman says with urgency in her voice.

Unnoticed by the two of you, she has gotten to her feet again. Now she stands behind Palpatine and places her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

His hands drop down, bereft of all life. “You do not seek revenge? But this would be the perfect moment. He is defenceless. You could have my lightsaber.”

Very slowly, but determined she shakes her head. “I am not a Sith lord, Sheev,” she says. “Besides, killing the count will not bring Barin back. He is dead.”

Your brain tries to analyse the situation, but it fails you.

What is going on here?

Palpatine closes his eyes, his fingers cramped. “Tell me what you want and I will give it to you without hesitation! Even Dooku's head on a plate.”

You cannot believe what you hear.

“Let the count die another day and certainly not on my behalf!” she states, her words somewhat muffled.

“You could ask for much more!” he suggests and swirls around to hold her in his arms. “Your own beach on Corellia. The entire Lake Country even. More of that ridiculous Skywalker merchandise to fill an entire museum.”

She laughs, loud and clear. “Just to be here with you is enough for the moment.”

“You will stay on?”

“As long as you need me to.” She salutes like a brave little soldier. “For now I am fully yours to command.”

“Let me get my attorney! I need your statement in written form. For emergency cases.”

“My word should be enough for you,” she teases and ticks his nose in a playful way.

He juts his chin. “Sith lords do have trust issues.”

The two remain like a freeze image, looking at one another.

Time goes by painfully slow and you start to get a cramp in your right leg.

“You may go now, Darth Tyranus.” Not only does she know your secret Sith title. She looks at you with unbelievable sadness in her eyes. “I take it from here!”

“Milady, I...”

Palpatine growls like a rancor that just woke up in a destructive mood, but she lifts a hand. “You are forgiven, not forgotten,” she says. “Please leave!”

Without seeking eye contact with you Darth Sidious says, “Now sits the wind fair,...”

She leans fully into his embrace.“But when the blast of war blows in our ears,..”

Sighing,Palpatine leans his chin on her head. “It was the nightingale, and not the lark, that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.”

Your limbs are as heavy as those of a battle droid, but you manage to get away from them.

Who is that woman?

Certainly not Sly Moore, who is whispered to be the dark queen by his side.

Perhaps, she is the wife of one of his Separatist troop commanders? But no, he has blamed you for allowing the attack on a civilian vessel.

If you find out who that husband of hers was, you might get a clue on her identity.

“Don't!” suggests a figure from the shadows.

“Pestage,” you greet the man who steps in front of you.

“The master is smitten by my godchild since I can remember.” The haggard Naboo man rolls his eyes. “Unless somebody is brave enough to take the blame on her death, we will never be free of her.”

“Is that so?” you wonder.

“Don't you find her verbally incontinent and her silliness hard to bare?” he snorts.

“This is why you did not stop me to enter the bedroom?” you point out. “Why the guards did not intervene? You had hoped that something evil would happen to her.”

Sate Pestage laughs hollowly. “A hope that never dies since she took her first breath thirty-eight years ago.”

“And people call me a monster!”

Shaking your head, you walk away from that disgusting man.

You will never forget how this Veré knelt abeyante in front of Palpatine, only trust and love radiating from her. She seems to know everything about him, but still stays by his side. You might never find a partner like this. If you manage to overthrow your master than she could be yours. And you would like to teach her a thing or two about obedience.


Sources:
The song “Die another day” from Madonna (2002)
A quote famous quote from the BBC series “Robin of Sherwood” (1984 - 1986)
A quote from the Shakespearian play “Henry V” (Act I, Scene 2)
A quote from the Shakespearian play “Henry V” (Act III, Scene 1)
A quote from the Shakespearian play “Romeo and Juliet” (Act III, Scene 5)
The world “abeyante” comes from the fantasy series “Kushiel's Legacy” by Jacqueline Carey (2001 - 2011)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia