Actions

Work Header

Crown Jewels

Chapter Text

What a charming little gem of a female he thinks as the molten chocolate slips between his lips.

 

As Spock watches her dance he concludes she is by far the highlight of his evening. Surak knows he doesn’t want to be here attending his brother as he fritters away their father’s coin on all the pleasures and vices Terra has to offer the Crown Prince of Vulcan.

 

Most affairs are more tedious than this, filled with nasal breathing, overstuffed human nobles but the entertainment his brother has hired along with the goblet filled with drinking chocolate make it more bearable.

 

Spock sits watching a little dancer in the middle of her group of hostess sisters, lithely bending and pointing her legs in a style of ballet.

 

Spock swallows the thick liquid in his mouth as she spins and bows on the tip of her toes with her rear high in the air. Nimble he thinks, drawing down another sip. He stares at the human, tracing her steps as she floats across the floor but it’s his inability to look away from her that intrigues him.

 

Placing his goblet on the low lying table before him he examines the resistance. He wants her but not in a typical fashion of spending himself inside her or rummaging through her mind until he finds his pleasure. With this dark, slip of a woman he wants to gorge himself over every inch of her. What he feels is far from his typical ransacking practice. This human he covets.

 

Curious , Spock muses while ignoring the pointed looks of the barmaids refilling his glass. They poke their chests towards Spock and make a fuss of preening in front of him. It is irritating as well as distracting. He shoos them away with a glare and reclaims his drink, still studying his current obsession.

 

He can’t recall ever feeling this particular jealous hunger for anyone let alone a human. Not once has Spock felt this moved to take a female as he does now with her but the more his eyes follow her gliding across the floor the more his mind makes plans to have her all to himself for the rest of the evening. Possibly longer.

 

“ Do I bore you brother or has someone else caught your interest?” his brother’s voice breaks in over the music.

 

Spock looks over at Sybok with a very Vulcan smile of his eyes and gives the slightest shrug of his shoulders. It’s more that Spock finally taken notice of his words. His brother has been chatting with him and the surrounding maids the entire time but verbal jab finally pokes Spock into attention. “ One would hardly ever call you a bore, sakai . You are the jubilance of every gathering, whether a wedding or a wake.”

 

The grand prince hums with laughter at his backhanded compliment. “ Your sharp tongue never fails you, Spock. So if I am so very entertaining then a some, little minx has stolen your eye. A young, lithe dancer, I presume?” he teases nodding towards the floor.

 

“ The comely, copper colored maid, center stage.” Spock admits, bringing the rim of his goblet away from his lips.

 

Sybok glances from under the crush of poorly covered hostesses to find the dancer in question. The woman continue to paw and lean against his semi prone form as he lifts a brow at the sight of Spock’s choice. “ Ah, yes. She is quite fetching, isn’t she?”

 

One of the hostesses beside Sybok audibly pouts with a frown. Sybok hums in amusement at her and tucks a finger beneath her chin. “ Darling my appraisal of another female does nothing to devalue your own. Such a tender nymph would hardly survive my attentions let alone enjoy them. You however…” he croons as he frees his lok from his trowsers with his other hand.

 

Spock watches as horrified foreboding flashes across the human female’s face. A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as his own lok stirs from her fear. There’s a fair measure of pleasure he feels in it. Good for her to know now what she’s getting into for the next several nights if she doesn’t bore his brother Spocks thinks as his brother takes the maid’s hand and uses it to stroke himself stiff in front of everyone present.

 

Sybok has his...proclivities but Spock’s not one to judge, he has quite a few of his own.

 

Sybok removes his grip from the hostess and signals her to begin feeding him figs. She does so with the grace and do diligence of any of the females here, neatly cutting the lewdly shaped fruit before depositing the pieces into his brother’s gaping mouth. Sybok chases her fingers during the task making her giggle in relief.

 

It bores Spock. He rather enjoyed her being frightened earlier but Sybok loves all human expressions both joyous and grieved.

 

Sybok finally catches her finger and thumb between his teeth and sucks the juice from her pale fingers. The silver blonde human has no idea the honor and obscenity he performs on her, as she gasps with a thrilled coo. Spock huffs through his nose and takes another sip of his drink.

 

Sybok’s hostess meets Spock’s eye and smiles at him delicately. She is beautiful in Terran and Vulcan standards alike though she is even fairer than himself. Pale, blonde hair with even whiter skin and eyes so blue they seem gray. Her body is long and shapely and her hips have a pleasant curve to him. However comely, she is not the dark dancer of his affection. His brother’s companion is needy and her eyes seeks out the approval of every person around her. Now her watery gaze looks to gain his.

 

Spock gives her a peek of what lurks behind his facade and the silvery blonde hurriedly looks away. She loses her smile and refocuses wholeheartedly on his brother. She may be a bore of a whore to him but she’s smart enough to realize what Spock is and that she should not breed his interest.

 

Spock believe the little dancer to be quite intelligent but she has made him quite interested. Pity she should suffer for it. In her ignorance of him watching her so raptly, she continues to move with such allure that Spock can’t help but imagine their time alone.

 

And when the opportunity arises that he can feast between her legs and make her scream as if he’s eating her alive, plunge his fingers into her mouth as she’s forced to felicitate them and feel his perverse pleasure of it buzz across her tongue, Spock will be sure to take his time, break her slowly and mold her to his whims.

 

Spock closes his eyes for a moment as he reviews his last thoughts. Ah yes there it is break her slowly. That’s what it is, what draws him to her as both a male and a Vulcan. Watching her dance, the discipline and the self control she displays as she pirouettes and leaps into second position shows Spock what piqued his interesting.

 

It’s not her beauty alone that calls him, though he has no qualms placing her as the most aesthetically pleasing human he has ever come across. She is slender but curvaceous with skin he finds both radiant and luminescent. Her hair, the tone of her frame, he could go on at length about her beauty but her spirit that outshine her external aesthetics.

 

It comes out as she bends and twists, taunting and teasing him, mocking his Vulcan superiority with a grace that shouts that she is wild, unbroken and no less than he. For the last 23 minutes he’s watched her prance around like she’s the only royalty to be had in the room. Vulcan might rule the galaxy and Terra and even her body but it does not rule her and it’s that defiance that makes Spock want the little human.

 

There aren’t that many wild things left. Creatures whose spirits cannot be tamed had been met with his father’s unrepented wrath. There are those who hide like their lesser cousins the Romulans but even their opposition Spock finds stale, the most determined among them long dead. But this human, this female parades her undomesticated nature before them under the guise of her art.

 

Spock smiles softly into his cup as he eyes her face hungrily. His evening was not a complete waste after all. Tonight he’ll be in for a real and very rare treat. He may not break the human but he will make her want him. It was all a matter of how.

 

Sybok is peeling away the sheer tulle top of his companion and slipping her breasts free and continues their earlier conversation. “ Would you care for some private entertainment this evening brother? That human certainly has your attention.”

 

“ She is fascinating.” he comments quietly, watching her movements change with the music. So very lithe. That will indeed be of use as she serves him. How far back can she bend her legs?

 

Sybok teases at his hostess’s nipple and gazes up at her face. “ Christine dear, what’s that darling’s name and speciality?”

 

Christine breath hitches in her mouth as she answers him. She is too eager to please him, Spock thinks idly. She’ll be gone from his brother’s presence by morning.

 

“ That one’s name is Nyota. She is not yet a full hostess, she’s still under our madam’s training. She has the quite the voice though and a pair of legs on her as well.” she quips, trying to allude to her host sister’s proficiency in dance. Spock agrees about the legs though not in that regard. He muses over the thought of hearing her voice. How would sound being pleasured by his mouth? Would it be different than when she came on his lok? No better way than to see for himself…

 

Sybok’s eyes rove over Spock’s choice and furrows his brows. “ You mean that one is still unknown?”

 

Spock’s ears twitch at the prospective of her being a virgin and tries to soothe his excitement by emptying his glass. Though cool in temperature the cocoa burns down his throat and settles into his chest with a warm buzz.

 

Christine titters into her hand and Spock is unsure if it’s from his brother’s question or his hands at her breasts. “ No, no. One of the human royals took that honor. She was paid handsomely for it so I suppose she’s fair at it. I’ve heard that they wish her attendance again.”

 

“ They? She knew more than one?” Spock inquires.

 

Sybok fastens his lips around her teat and she stops speaking immediately with a surprised squeal. Spock sighs and signals for a refill. That others may have picked over her like a buffet upsets him greatly. He does not want to dwell on it so it drinks to distract himself.

 

The same hostess that has been trying fretfully to win his attention returns to fill his goblet being so bold as to speak to him. “ How you found anything else you want , Sire?”

 

He glowers at her over the rim of his glass and licks the chocolate liquor from his lips. “ Get out of my sight.”

 

She pales and scurries away much to Spock’s amusement and he goes back to watching Nyota.

 

Sybok release Christine from his mouth and pulls her over his lap with a cluck of his tongue. “ Dear baby brother that was uncalled for. You frightened the poor girl.”

 

“ Good.” he said flatly, rolling the liquid around in his cup with the motion of his wrist.

 

“ She only wanted to please you.” Sybok rebutted, running a hand up his companion’s leg, his fingers dragging and catching her skirt up along her waist. The blonde looks around nervously and Spock finally finds himself with suitable entertainment that isn’t his dancer.

 

Spock watches as she tries to gently suggest leaving for more a private more setting. She holds Sybok’s hands in her own and winks at him. How very foolish.

 

The crown prince smiles and strikes out a hand to take a hold of her face. Her pale gray eyes grow wide and glassy as he maneuvers her over his lok.

 

His brother’s cock is nothing to be trifled with much like his own, human women were so small and fragile compared to their females. But that’s one of the reasons they were ever so enticing.

 

“ I’ll tell you what baby brother. I’ll pay your freight for a night with the star.”

 

“ You never have to pay, brother.” Spock teases.

 

“ Exactly.” Sybok smirks, bringing the hostess down on his shaft with a shriek from her lips. Spock feels himself harden at the wet sound and sight of it. “ And neither will you Spock. Do have fun.”

 

“ I intend to.” Spock says coyly as he sips and watches the screaming hostess take all of his brother in. Sybok groans with a chuckle and eyes her mirthfully. “ Oh darling, don’t act like I’m your first Vulcan. Moan for me, enjoy it.”

 

The hostess at his brother’s side kicks her feet along the floor to push back away from him in terror.  Sybok’s hand locks around her ankle and pulls her bodily over with fiendish grin. “ Ms. Rand, where are you off to? You. Are. Next…”

----------

 

She’s just rounding the corner of the stage when he catches her arm and pulls her back against him. Nyota starts to jerk away, curses him for his rough handling when she sees who he is. Or rather what he is.

 

He’s not a some common drunk looking to have a personal inspection of her charms but one of the members of the Vulcan royal family. The prince!

 

It flusters her and she immediately looks abashed.“ Your Royal Highness!”


She tries to fall to her knees to respect his station but his grip remains firm on her arm. Her skin is soft, albeit cool and thin with the salty scent that humans forever exude. Spock can overlook the latter two for the former. In fact tonight he feels himself drawn to her alien biology. An urge to lick her wrist to taste the saline drops of sweat for himself steals over him but he dares not show his nature just yet. That he wants Nyota to discover for herself. He settles for keeping a hold on her bicep instead and finds the possessive grip of her arm to be agreeable enough.

 

His eyes smile at her and he inclines his head. “ Please, there is no need for all of that, we will have plenty of time for you to grace me later.” On said knees…

 

She blushes prettily under the heat of his gaze and he wonders idly if she heard his thoughts. It would not matter either way though it would spoil the surprise.

 

Nyota straightens herself as much as she’s able with her arm still bound and takes on the graceful conduct of a Terran hostess. “ How can this one be of service, your highness.”

 

“ Come to my chambers and dance for me.” he implores her, caressing of his thumb against her bicep. His voice comes out deeper than he intends it and his eyes do not wavering in their inspection of her person but Spock is pleased by the effects they gain from the dancer.

 

She nods almost bashfully and he can tell his request and the manner in which he delivers it has flattered her. He can not help it, she excites him and he cannot wait to get her alone. The mere thought of it makes him dizzy and breathless.

 

“ Yes, your highness. Very good, your highness. Allow me to inform my madam that-”

 

“- you will leave with me now.” He orders firmly.

 

She seems at a lost now for what to do, wanting to not provoke the ire of either the prince or her mistress. He can feel her want to rest, to clean herself and sleep after a long, tiring night of performances but she obeys him as one does in the presence of a person of power.

 

“ I would be honored, your highness.”

 

“ As you should be.” he replies with the barest hint of a smile. “ At least you will be.” he threads his fingers through her hair and watches as she fights not to tremble. Be still and be quiet while you can, Nyota he muses, you’ll be shaking and screaming soon...enough...

----------

 

Nyota can feel his eyes on her as the walk through the hallway. The intensity of his attention arouses and scares her.

 

As she performed this evening Nyota didn’t think his gaze was anymore special than the next person’s but apparently something about her has caught his eye. When he grabbed her she almost reeled back to punch him in the face but then she had caught the hint of his ears from the corner of her eye. And felt his telepathy tingling underneath her skin.

 

Prince Spock’s regard of her was that of curiosity, amusement and lust. The last had unnerved her until she recognized her body was equally inclined at the sight of him. While not the crown grand prince or even fully Vulcan but Spock is by far the most handsome one in both categories. And it was safe to say that since she had been in his company he was the most charming as well.

 

He walks slowly behind her as she guides him to his suite here at the summer garden palace, his steps so quiet she can barely hear them over the thudding of her heart. His shadow looms over her and molds to that of her own with every lantern they pass.

 

She talks to fill the silence but he only replies with one word answers that leave her little to go on. He is not annoyed by the disjointed conversation they have but it’s clear that he is not here for that. Nyota concludes from his thoughtful gaze he is much more interested in observing her.

 

Every now and then she feels his fingers glancing down her back or across her neck and she has to steel herself not to shiver. The rest of her body has no such control or loyalty as her nipples tighten against the cups of her corset and her traitorous pussy wets her underwear until she can feel the hot moisture of it on her stockings.

 

They pass Vulcans in a similar situations as himself, all with human companions for the evening that they eagerly seek to sequester in their quarters. When they notice the prince with her as his escort they warmly greet him and congratulate him on his choice specimen. A few are even bold enough to offer having the humans mate for entertainment or express interest in sampling all the humans altogether in some debauched orgy.

 

Nyota stiffens at the proposals but each one ends the same with the prince drawing closer with a hand resting firmly on the back of her neck. “ Thank you but I do not share.”

 

Each time he states the sentiment Nyota feels his possessiveness wash over her thick, cloying fog from the tips of his fingers. It makes her want to roll against him and other things she dare not say aloud of because each time she even thinks them the sensation grows stronger until she wants to beg him for something, anything, to relieve the aching, hungry hollowness inside her. But how does one really ask a prince for anything?

 

Lord Kirk listened as much as he had to but he is human. This male before her, the handsome, pale example of masculinity who watches her from beneath the fan of his lashes is Vulcan and she is at a loss for how to approach him.

 

Her host mother has trained her in many things but not many in the heart. As they walk down the hallway and she feels his fingers glance down her spine, her stomach flips and knots and her head feels dizzy from her light, panting breathing. Unlike any before him, Spock makes her heart flutter and her tongue feel numb with novacaine.

 

When he leads her into his room it only grows worse. He speaks to her now with interest, running his fingers down her arms, commenting in that deep, moody voice of his that makes her feel giddy and wanton. She feels dear to him from all his attention, like she’s the belle of a secret, impromptu ball. Yes, for four blissful hours Nyota is all he can see and Spock is enchanted by the view.

 

Later he retrieves his lyre and asks if he could grace her with a small recital. Did he even have to ask?! “ Of course, your royal highness. Yes please.”

 

He scoffs at her formality as he delicately turns the tuning keys along the neck of his instrument. “ Please, Sire or Spock will do just as well. I don’t care which imploy but no more talk of me as your highness. It is you I will to serve tonight, not myself.”

 

She blushes and plays with the beading along her corset. “ Sire, you flatter me.”

 

“ Not nearly enough, you are still calling me sire.” he teases, warming up along the strings. One of his hands leaves his lyre and slowly draws a finger down across her cheek, sighing as he feels her pretty, little feelings. “ You are most comely when you blush. The red glow makes you look vibrant.”

 

“ Spock…” she utters in shock. She’s never witnessed a Vulcan so emotional before. His wistful expression is the human equivalent of shouting from the rooftops. He inhales sharply at the sound of his name and betrays himself with a small upward tilt of his lips.

 

“ Ah, there I am on your lips. That becomes us both.” he hums, strumming against the lyre. “ I like both actually, my name and my station on your tongue.”

 

She is at a lost of what to say. Spock watches her as he plays through the intro of a Vulcan rondo. A shadow passes over his faces and she feels faint at the sight his miniscule smile. “ You are wonderfully beautiful, Nyota.”

 

Nyota feels her stomach flip and the He is so terrifyingly beautiful. “ Spock…”

 

----------

 

“ On your knees.”

 

She quickly bows onto the floor, her rear seated onto her heels and her toes tucked under her feet.

 

Nyota returns from relieving herself to find a new Spock before her. Gone was the easy going fellow who makes her heart flutter and makes her think of excuses to stay longer in his presence and in his place is a royal Vulcan who makes her heart tremble.

 

He is like his brother now, the one that frightens all the humans both known and virgin. Nyota wonders in horror if Spock is just as cruel. There has been talk that the half Vulcan is worse, that he likes to twist pain and pleasure together that they become one in the same to the maid being bedded. She threw caution of that tale to the wind after their first hour together. What a fool she was but how and who was she to say no?

 

There was also a rumor that the grand Prince would share paramours with him from an unnatural affection between the two of them. Once they were done, the hostesses were mere shells of themselves.

 

Christine had warned her about their psychopathy, told her that's what drove Kerry mad. The poor twit had serviced them both and became completely and utterly demented as a result. They had not been gentle with her body and even less so with her mind. Nyota fears the same treatment.

 

Nyota licks her lips nervously and raises her voice with a low gaze to the rug. “ I am no longer a virgin, sire.”

 

He turns towards her in a Vulcan hint of annoyance with a light scoff and a frown. “ Do you think me ignorant of this?”

 

“ No, sire, I am only telling you now as is my duty with any guest that shows such...an interest in me.”

 

He glares at her as he considers her words and takes a hold of her head by the back of her skull with Nyota squealing in surprise. Nimbly he turns her head to reveal her temples and digs the fingers of his other hand into her face.

 

Nyota whimpers at the hot press of his hand and the frigid tendrils of his mind as it lances through her seeking her motives. He was uncertain of the reasons behind her statement but sees now it was as she said. Though what is this ?

 

“ I frighten you?”

 

She looks away until he roughly tilts her head back to look up him. “ No need to be coy with me. We both know what you are.”

 

Nyota flushes angrily at his insinuation, her eyes now glinting hard in the light but makes no move to rebuke him. Instead she quickly licks the corner of her lips and meets his eye. “ You are Vulcan royalty. I am worried about the consequences of displeasing you.”

 

He blinks at her as if the answer is obvious. “ Then don’t displease me.”

 

Spock tilts his head as thinks more on it, petting her as he would a treasured pet. “ Beside I believe you will come to enjoy your time this evening as much as I intend to. Do you want to please me?”

 

“ I don’t know, sire…” she whispered, straining slightly against his hold.

 

Spock feels a vague truth to it though she is taking surreptitious glances at his crotch before meeting his eyes again. Curious, little human wasn’t she?

 

“ Let us have a drink then. Perhaps some wine would help you with your decision.”

 

Nyota nods as best she can in his hands and the prince releases her and heads towards the table with his ridiculous robe whipping behind him.

 

As Spock pulls two flutes from the golden tray on the tabletop he allows himself a chance to calm himself.

 

The feel of her mind beneath his fingers was so titillating he had salivated just from his light handling. He does not know if he can deny himself for much longer, despite wanting to see her perform the dance of fronds and feathers. He’s much more inclined to see how she masters the dance of chains and whips while dancing upon his lok.

 

As he hands her the champagne filled glass he eyes her body hungrily, hoping that she would be amenable to taking all of him everywhere because he plans to do no less. He extends the glass with an enigmatic smile on his lips. Soon.

 

Nyota accepts the glass none the wiser to his deviant planning, nervously sipping at the drink as if it would harm her. He sighed irritably and tilts it up against her lips. “ I told you to drink. Drink.”

 

Her eyes snap open in surprise along with her mouth as she tries to take in all the sparkling wine but she chokes halfway through and gags on the bubbling fizz. It slides out between her lips and down her chin before dripping onto her scant clothing.

 

She coughs until there are tears in her eyes but he forces the rest of the contents down her throat. He brushes his fingers against her skin and is delighted to find her lightheaded from the him, the alcohol and coughing spell. She’ll fight more like this he knows and he wants that from her tonight. It hurts him to wait.

 

Spock huffed as if annoyed, thumbing the wet bustline of her corset. “ Not all that graceful and practiced as I would have thought you would be with wine. You have stained your clothing. Remove it.”

 

She looks at him abashed, as if she has never been asked to do such a thing. Her response riles him, that she would hesitant and think of protesting. It thrills him as well because she has already begun to fight. “ I said take off your clothing, human.”

 

“ Sire, for the dance you requested...I require my clothes…” she states earnestly. A modest whore. How quaint.

 

The look in her eyes is fierce even if her face lies to him with its mild expression.

 

He glares at her and she staggers backwards until he catches her by the waist and spins her around back against his chest. The soft femme struggles against the arm barring her waist with a squeal and has no idea how the noise goes straight to his loins.

 

She can dance for him later, he has to have her now. Spock pushes a hand through her fragrant hair and groans when he hears her whimper at his pull. Under his palm he can feel that conflicting mess of fear and timid arousal coursing through her. He bends his mouth to her ear and brings his hands to the seam of her ballet corset. Her heart is fluttering in her chest, even for a human as he pushes himself against her. “ Do you feel that, little one?”

 

Nyota hiccups at the air and he can feel her shock at his lok pressing along her ass and back. She is unnerved, the size of what she feels is obscene and unnatural. Her brain screams at her that it will not fit anywhere within her. He hums to himself knowing that he will try. She resumes squirming against his hold until he shakes her to stop.“ Must I repeat myself all night?! Do you feel it!?”

 

“ Yes, yes, I feel it, sire.” she rushes to reply. He feels her hesitate for a moment before she speaks softly but boldly towards the ground. “ Sire, I would dance for you now.”

 

“ Later.” he says inspecting her attire. All easily replaced but he can see that the gems sewn in along the bones of the seams are done by hand. She should have taken it off sooner.

 

With a quick jerk of his arms he rent the corest nearly in half, humming as he sees her newly freed breasts bouncing into view. She shrieks at the motion and screams once more as he reaches down and rips the seam for the crotch of her stockings. “ What I want to do you does not require clothing.”

 

She writhing now in earnest, though when Spock runs his fingers along her underwear he finds the material irresistibly damp.

 

“ Sire, please! I...I’ve never…”

 

Spock catches her jaw and mashes his mouth against hers in an artless kiss. She moans into it clawing at his forearm as his other hand busies itself with pushing her soft cotton of her panties down along the fold were her rear meets her thighs. He bites her lip and chuckles within himself at the sharp stinging of her nails into his skin.

 

Nyota was so enticing and yet she did not know. How much she made him want her, that he was the one suffering...so to speak.

 

“ You have been teasing me all evening. Flitting around on those long legs, presenting your rear, extending your neck...did you not see this coming? You are so very beautiful that I do not know how you could think I would be able to resist you.”

 

She sighs looking almost contrite, her lips red and puffy from his attentions and Spock feels his lok jerk within the confines of his slacks. “ You will please me tonight. And if you do it well I will keep you…”

 

Nyota looks visibly frightened then. The thought of his aggressive adoration being fed to her daily appears like a laborious and taxing prospect but he can feel her interest in it as well. She would be a jewel in his eye, one of many coveted treasures but special because he wanted her . Would she be pleasing to him? Would she win the favor of a prince of Vulcan. He answers her musing aloud before he claims her lips again. “ You very well may.”

 

Freeing himself from his pants he pushed his rapidly hardening length between her legs and the fabric of her underwear, groaning as he feels her body betray her, growing wetter in preparation for his cock.

 

He starts to move his hips, sliding it along her soft, slick folds, watching her as she whimpers into his mouth and her nipples start to tighten before his eyes.

 

Spock breaks the kiss and grabs her face again, pitching it down as she can see the fat head of his cock stretch out her panties before retreating to bump against her entrance. She moans at the sight, wiggling against him as he pauses near her center. He prods against it, testing her receptiveness and feels her reflexively clench against him. How delicious.

 

“ How did your first take you, little one? Standing as we are now? Up against a wall? Down along the floor?” he rasps. He is suddenly curious, wants to know even though it incites his jealousy to have not had her first be known by his hand. He wants her to remember every detail, every stroke and thrust, to ruin her for any other. By the time he’s done she’ll only think of him if another were to take her. Not that he plans on giving her up anytime soon. She’s a fascinating little tart. He licks her neck as he waits for her reply.

 

She pants and turns away from his mouth trembling in fear of his teeth. He’s half tempted to bite her just for her flinching. Spock opens his mouth wider and runs his teeth over her windpipe. As she swallows he feels her skin give under his canines and let her blood. He kisses it away with a hum when she finally starts to answer.

 

“ Lord Kirk took me on the bed, sire. He wanted evidence of my virginty on the sheets. A token…” she murmured. She looks rueful as if she’s reliving the scene. His fingers twitch at the prospect of being there with her as the Lordling tucks himself inside and makes Nyota curl in on herself.

 

Spock stops nibbling at her neck and looks at her curiously. “ A human? Your first was a human?”

 

“ Yes, Sire.”

 

“ You have not been handled by a Vulcan?”

 

“ No, sire, never.” she bites her lip. That was her never she was babbling about but Spock hadn’t waited for her to squeal out the rest. A hot wave of uncertainty followed by that same heated inquisitiveness washes over him from his hands. She wants him, despite her fear, despite her ire at his rough fondling and debasement. She wants to know what it would be like.

 

Spock tries to tamp down his excitement as he moves his hands down to her waist. He would be a first of sorts, her first Vulcan. Her only Vulcan.

 

He pulls her up to sit on along the tip of his lok as his hand goes back to mussing and combing his fingers through her hair. Her breath comes out with little plaintive huffs as he sinks in a bit, stretching her with a stinging bite at his girth.

 

Nyota cries out, clawing at his arms as the rest of her body goes rigid. “ Ah! It hurts, sire! Please!”

 

He groans against her neck with a small, deviant chuckle as he savors the moment. “ It does, doesn’t it…?” By Surak, she’s tight.

 

He knots his fingers in her hair as he nips at her ear and uses his other hand to force her down his shaft. Nyota’s back arches off of his chest with a silent scream as his cock burrows its way inside her like a white hot, bar of iron, scalding and searing along her walls. She sobs and jerks away, her body shaking as it’s coerced to accommodate him but Spock remains unrelenting in his quest.

 

Spock swallows at the air, breathless and awed by how exquisite she feels. Then there’s those lovely, trilling wails she’s making as her body steadily engulfs him. He curses with a gasp unable to reign himself in as he retreats and reverses course, impaling her fully on his length. What once was silent scream becomes deafening keen as shakes against him. “ Spock!”

 

His fingers dig into her scalp and skim the thoughts flitting through her. What he finds does not disappoint him.

 

Her body rages against his length. He’s big, too big, feeling like its buried all the way to her navel. His alien grift and length drives her wild with its fevered touch but it feel so good, so full, so filling, so fucking good. He bends his head and kisses next to her mouth.

 

“ Mmm, that’s right. What else Nyota? What else do you feel, my dancer?” he groans against her cheek. He shifts his hand and digs deeper into her mind, fleshing out what she hopes to keep hidden. She shakes her head in protest but she is helpless to stop his mental pillaging.

 

It only takes a moment to find it, other thoughts cast above it as if she were trying to sweep it under a rug. Her pleasure.

 

It’s small but brilliant as she takes him in. There’s shame at her revelry that she should enjoy taking on a royal Vulcan male in such a capacity but it oddly thrills her. She basks in the way he can’t control himself, that he keeps his hands gentile and mannered while he wants to feed her every inch of his massive cock and that she wants him buried inside her to the hilt. What does that make her then? What is she to be so hungry for his cock and so eager to come apart as he feeds it to her over and over and over again. What does it make her when she so excited to feel him come?

 

Breathing hoarsely against her ear, Spock’s hand leave her hair and clamps against her hip. “ It makes you mine .”

 

She hiccups and tremors as her feet dangle inches from the floor and arches her back in anticipation. Her mind is so reticent while her body is so earnest that Spock nearly loses himself right then.

 

Dragging his teeth along her neck he hums drunkenly against her skin. “ Tonight you will learn how to please me. You will learn how to be fucked by me. If you are good, I will give you a necklace at the end, one from the royal coffers themselves.” he teases pushing her down until his balls brush against the lips of her sex.

 

----------

 

She’s on top of him, listing above the Prince, impaled on his cock as he bounces her in his lap. Nyota’s not sure how her mouth is working, doesn’t care how unbecoming her face looks as she screws it up with a whine. Her arms jerk away from him but his hands are fastened onto hers, pulling her down onto his shaft, feeding from her angst and the pain of his scalding lok stretching her beyond pleasure.

 

He holds her hands now because she fought him. Scratching his beautiful pale face and biting his hand as he sought to plunder her mind once more.

 

It had been too arousing for him he said to have her so resistant. She would have thought it was a lie meant to scare or flatter her if he hadn’t come the instant her teeth broke through his skin. It had surprised them both with its suddenness and strength. Spock had hissed her name like a curse and she cried out as his bliss swept through her like a raging squall. She had seized his lok so tightly within her that he nearly passed out.

 

Spock had been too dazed to be embarrassed about how he left her quim hot and aching though Nyota senses the growing unease that he feels at the effects her presence has upon him.

 

He can hardly contain himself when he’s inside her mind or cunt. To be in both he is nearly powerless to his lust and baser needs. The prince worries that it is not Nyota that is prisoner but he himself to her unending charms. She has jinxed him somehow with a human magic, dispelling the hex somewhere between her forlorn sighs and gasping cries.

 

Or maybe he thinks it was when she first came. She fought the building pressure as much as she attacked him. With no as a mantra to her lips, Nyota kept the reaction at bay but Spock hungered after it. He moved them to the wall and ground himself up inside her with his fingers seeking out the little bud that would trigger her release.

 

She cursed the prince then, her manners long forgotten as he fucked her the way she told him to do to himself. Alien filth, Vulcan slime, Unfeeling pervert, why did you have to be nice you monster, not even your mother could love you. On and on she went but she was dismayed by how he wallowed in the slander like a pig in mud. Even more disconcerting was his stuttering groans as she tried to physically harm him.

 

How or why would he feel elation at such cruelty? Did it truly inspire his ecstasy or was Spock so numb to the world that he only felt alive when he felt pain? How wretched is this Vulcan she thought. Wretched and undeniably skilled in the manner of bedding.

 

Maybe it was his telepathy, the eerie power that Vulcans had housed within them but she felt so wanton that Nyota almost hated herself more than she did him. Each stroke and every kiss only tortured her with a euphoria that she dare not believe to be natural. Spock should not be this delicious to her.

 

He was despicable, foul and demented. But how he moved his body was even worse. He made her want it...

 

Nyota had been close coming again but her will to resist his brutish attentions kept her at bay. Spock could rut against her all he wanted but he couldn’t break her.

 

At the thought Spock had gasped with pleasure. “ Dissident human…my feral, little lover...I want to repay you for the lovely mark on my hand. Do not shy away, sweetling...I want to feel you come on my lok...” he crooned into her ear. His fingers find her peak of her sex and she shattered.

 

Nyota shook so violent Spock had to hold her to himself to steady her. “ Fuck!” she sobs into the air, cursing as well as praising him.

 

The purity of her emotions in the moment had given Spock pause as he felt his boorish length trapped within her. He nuzzled his face into her hair and bound her tightly in the cage of his arms. She shivers at the touch of his two fingers tracing down the front of her belly and his scratchy tongue washing against the shell of her ear.  

 

His hot breath smells of chocolate and champagne as he grunts in denial of his own release.  “ Oh...my sweet, little princess...what a delight you are.” he said humming against her neck as she came down from the heights he forced upon her. “ I can tell once I finish this bout I must have you again…”. And have her again he did.

 

----------------

 

They fucked thrice more before Spock decided to have her settle on top on their fourth coupling. Of course she protested but it was more of a mewling whimper. Now she merely treads the sensual tide he subjects her to, to keep her head from completely swimming in it. She despises him and wants to treat him in the same manner.

 

Nyota is like no other that he has bedded and as a Vulcan prince, Spock has had his fair share. He cups her face as she shivers and goes tipsy from the torrential rush of emotion. She is ashame to couple with such a monster, even moreso because the two of them together is the best sex she has ever had.

 

Nyota has never climaxed like this before. From the electric touch of a Vulcan’s fingers on her sex but she finds it just fulfilling as coming for a toy. As the pulsing waves of bliss wanned within, her body squirmed earnestly for another. For better or worse Spock was amenable to oblige the desire. “ Greedy, little human. I’ll give you another, just have patience.”

 

She looks down at his face and it makes her clench around him. He is flush and enraptured. In her suffering and mournful expression Nyota feels Spock’s thoughts of her. The sight of his dancer is breathtaking. So beautiful, so alive when he fucks her. His voice fills her head as her voice fills his ears, drowning her mind with thoughts even more scandalous and frightening than his actions.

 

His delight infects her as he muses over her voice. It is quite melodic the prince surmises as she made to ride him, so docent in its tone . Will she still sound so sweet when he takes her on her hands and knees?

 

His fingers knit tighter with hers and she cries as his unbridled pleasure assaults her nerves. She could smell herself through his nose and how peculiar it is to to him. The touch of her body is incredibly soft to his fingers and her delicate biology thrills him to no end. It's the tight, mind numbing hold of her human sheath around him that makes him lose himself.

 

If he touches her just so he knows that she will flutter around him and threaten his very logic. He has never known a human to have a pussy as sweet as her voice and alluring as her mind. Spock bucks harder against her hips and snarls triumphantly as she quails at his aggressiveness.

 

/ Every way/ Spock croons at her inside her mind / I will take your cunt in every way I know and then ways I’ve only just imagined this evening./

 

Her head falls back with a bawling moan and her hair cascades around her like an huge, black mane of curls. She feels a million miles from her body, observing his dominance from a distance but he notices and draws her back in.

 

Gripping her hands tightly, he stares her in the eye and juts his hips higher, harder, deeper until she feels the tightness in her clit start to falter. She’s going to come but she doesn’t want to. Not again, not on his cock, not on him. He’s already taken so many of them out of her, made her shiver helplessly around him that she cannot bare the thought of another climax around his abhorrent lok.

 

No, No! Please! Please …!” she pleads to him in the tongue of his people. “ Please, my lord. Please Spock…!

 

His lids flutter close as he hears her voice and she can feel how the emotion in her words brings him higher. He knows what she means in her pleading, what Nyota is asking him but he twists her statement to suit his needs. The strength and clarity of her expressions feed him, hardens him, breaks him down until he’s crying out too.

 

Nyo-ta !” he snarls, pinching the small, dark pearl of her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Energy surges through her, seizing her limbs and holds her.

 

She arches violently and croaks. At one time far away Nyota is sucked even further inside herself, twisting, folding, deconstructing from the pleasure he pulses through her. Hers and his, human and Vulcan, the torrent of it drives her mad. She can’t do anything but be present in the moment. Her lips refuse to move, her voice is stolen and her breath is arrested. She is dying but she’s never felt so alive.

 

Spock watches from inside and without, in awe of what he’s created like an artist testing the limit of his mastery. So moved he feels as if he loves her and in a Vulcan way he does. She has given him everything, performed every demand, seen to every need and she is absolutely extraordinary. He comes in a gush, filling her completely until the volume and the force of it streams out of her like a perverse fount.

 

The pearly ropes continues to sputter out, coating her thighs and his abdomen as they struggle to recover. When she regains control of her body she gasps and chokes at the air. Her throat and lungs burn from being constricted so tightly and rage with the will to live. She wobbles and falls to the side but his arms are around her in an instant.

 

Nyota takes the hold as a comfort and rests along his torso as he brings her to his chest. It’s rumbling again but not from growling. Spock is immensely pleased.

 

She so tired, so spent that when she feels him harden once more and roll her over to her back she cries in earnest. In sharp juxtaposition to her sobbing, the prince is crushing her softly to him. He thinks she’s wonderful, singular and stunning and he can not help but indulge himself by murmuring illogical, sweet nothings in her ear.

 

Desert rose, Bright young star, my only grace he calls her as he glides back and forth between the sticky mess of her legs. He kisses her all along her face and neck, croons that she is the sweetest, most wonderful fuck he’s ever had and she shivers with a plaintive moan. In the touch of his lips she feels it in his mind, the truth that he had spoken. He's making love to her the best he can but he's never felt the emotion before, not like this. It had always been a love of things, of power and that of himself but he finds her absolutely precious.

 

“ Starling, my fair little human, how can this one please you? With my fingers? With my lok? Or perhaps you want my mouth? I want your release more than my own.” He whispers in her ear. He moves her into his arms, smothering her face in kisses while licking away her tears.

 

This gentle kindness feels even more unbearable to her than the rough, manhandling he gave her earlier as she struggles to breath within his embrace. Spock is holding her too tightly and his body is so hot he feels fervid.  “ Nyota, I can not get enough of you. Logic help me, you are so terribly radiant.”

 

The sudden intimacy seems just as alien as the prince inside her, how did it come to be? Maybe he had become delirious from the wine and the sex? How could someone so high and logical ( relatively speaking) become smitten with a human hostess?

 

“ I am smitten…” he says into the curls of her hair. “ I am stricken with you...you human witch.”

 

“ I’m no witch, you bastard.” she huffs pushing against his shoulders. “ You can’t love anything, you can’t-”

 

He captures her mouth and from the press of his lips Nyota feels his misery. Spock thought she’d be like any other, just a bit more tantalizing as she screamed underneath him but touching her affected the prince in a way that frightens him.

 

He doesn’t understand the need he feels to please her, the urge to make her happy. That she’s not equally compromised enrages him but he dare not lift a hand against her. So he makes her come instead, again and again and when that became unsatisfying he attempts to woo her to himself.

 

That Spock has never sincerely tried to do with anyone until now does not move her like he thought it would so now he lies sullenly in a bed of his own making. How was it that the mighty Vulcan became ensnared by the weaker human? Why did he want crave the attention of her affection instead of the fear that made him feel so powerful? He sought to break her but broke himself when he encountered...he is uncertain of what or which it is. Is it an emotion or is it her? Are they one in the same or was one inspired by the other?

 

Whatever the cause he is sick with her. This is no madness like pon farr. He nearly crippled T’Pring during his time and there is a clarity of thought here that he did not have then. So if it is not his time or an obsession as he originally thought than what can it be other than engulfment? A unrequited sort of Vulcan love? He crushes her to him and groans against her shoulder. “ Nyota, what have you done? You foul, beautiful bitch. You have ruined me.”

 

The following feeble whine after his declaration has Nyota feeling a perverse glee of her own.

You’ve ruined me too she thinks as her body moves of its own accord in sync with his. Their bodies make love as their minds war within the confines of their flesh, barbing each other however they can.

 

Even as her mind gloated at his captivated moaning of her name Nyota worried that he had infected her with that dissociative madness that he feed through the pain of others. Try as they might in the midst of their coercive coupling neither one could break free of the emotions that bind them. Spock rises above her, cupping Nyota’s face between his splayed fingers and babbles saccharine filth in Vulcan to her.

 

Nyota closes her fingers and tries to ignore him but he’s between her legs, filling her mind with his dreadful thoughts, her nose with his woody scent and her mouth with the taste of his sweet mouth. She groaned at against his tongue as he continues to hold her face and glide soft and sweetly between her legs.

 

When his release comes upon him Nyota opens her eyes to see Spock’s bright with unshed tears. He growls at her and hides his sharp, angular face in her hair with the tip of his ear brushing against her cheek.

 

She is still half garbed in her ballet costume like a candy eaten from a haphazardly opened wrapper. Her thighs and stomach are sticky with the rapidly cooling spunk he has left behind. She feels it matting in hair trailing down along his abdomen when he shifts against her.

 

Nyota pants quietly beneath him, staring up at the ceiling as his climax and emotions roll through her, barely conscious to the world.

 

She has never known exhaustion like this. Her skin feels overly sensitive while her muscles hang limp and loose like string. Her pussy aches now from being overly full and the hot liquid soothes as much as it burns her core. She’s a complete and utter mess but Spock feels the same. His arms grow tight again and Nyota feels his confusion worrying where he touches her.  


What have you done ?” he whispers in his hissy native tongue. “ What have you done to make me care about you…

Chapter Text

Spock takes another heavy draw on his glass of spiced wine and sulks back against the chaise lounge. An inaudible growl from deep within his chest ripples the liquid as he takes another sip. He glances over at the neglected plates of food littering the table and still feels no more inspired to sup than he has for the past three days.

 

Why did he allow Nyota to leave? Maybe for the entertainment of watching her walk after hours of having him between her legs but that was short lived. Now the hostess in training was gone halfway across Terra performing ballet with her host sisters, leaving Spock alone with emotions he did not understand.

 

It had been 4 days, 6 hours and 48 minutes since Spock has last marked her with his seed and he was desperate to spill inside her once more. Would if he could but Nyota was gone and the Vulcan prince wouldn’t be seen chasing after a female, even if that female was worthy of the hunt.

 

Not only would it be a sign of his current weakness but a danger to them both. He had no doubt that the Terrans here would see his favor of the little copper dancer and use his affection for her against him.

 

He very much liked Terra. It would be a shame to be put the land to fire, if its people were to harm her…

 

Spock takes another sip of his wine and whispers a curse, calling the enchantress out of her name. She is a wicked cunt though he pouts, to have left him so sick and brooding in her absence.

 

In addition to his sloven behavior, the half human prince has neglected to shave let alone bathe and the thought of food turns his stomach. He stays confined to his chambers unless summoned by his family but in his morose tenor they come to him only to leave shortly thereafter. He has been in a foul mood ever since he learned she departed and can’t shake off his dour state of mind.

 

The Emperor cannot tolerant his petulance while his mother pities him the way only a human in the captivity of a Vulcan male can.

 

Sybok has tried to assuage him with engaging duties, sweet words and women but Spock remains on a frightful temper. No one else dares to come to his chambers now when he’s inside, fearing for their safety after he made cruel use of half of the maids that looked after their wings of the palace.

 

But the truth of it is half hidden. Forewarned of his umbrage and all too familiar with his state of mind otherwise, the maids had rushed to tidy the chambers before he took notice. Even under the influence of wine however, Spock’s sense were still Vulcan and he long heard their harried movements and slunk over towards them in the shadows. He hung in the darkened corners, watching them scurry about like frightened mice.

 

Too dedicated to finishing their errands, the cleaners ignore the hairs rising up along the back of their necks along with the eerie quiet prey hears before the predators moves to strike. Seemingly out of nowhere his hand circles around their neck before the other moves to take their minds.

 

As soon as he storms through their heads, Spock finds himself repulsed. They aren’t anything like the one he wants . Casting them to the floor, the prince roars at them to leave his sight. They dash away teary eyed with jarring memories of the event from the crudeness of his meld.

 

Hours after their eyes still burn and their quims are slippery with a need they don’t understand or remember ever feeling but it’s not their memories of Spock’s savagery they’re recalling...

 

Spock finishes his glass and studies it for a moment before pitching it roughly against the wall. It shatters with a bell like chiming as the small shards shimmer down towards the floor but it’s destruction does nothing to soothe him.

 

He fears that it will only be her presence back beside him that will gain him his contentment. Spock had been too busy stealing himself inside her to notice that she had made off with his peace. If he knew that tupping her that night would lead to his present predicament he might have thought twice but never would he have denied himself the pleasure that was Nyota Uhura.

 

Spock exhales through his nose as he feels his anger returning to a fever pitch. Since their night together, his valet has whispered that Nyota was promoted to a full hostess. Already her booking list was filled to the brim with clientele and offers. The scant thought of it irks him to no end.

 

He knows every one of those males that requested her presence wants to know what intrigued a Vulcan prince, one who has more than his fair share of women, to keep her to himself for a whole night and morning.

 

There are humans who seek the empty their savings for only an hour in her company but it is the Vulcans that compose over half of the list that bothers him to near violence.

 

For the most part, Nyota’s services call for singing, dancing and witty conversation but if her madam were to gain a large enough purse, her host mother would have Nyota parting her legs for any number of Vulcan males and human men.

 

The wooden arm of his lounge groans under the strain of his hand upon it as his anger grows. No way will I allow anyone else the pleasure of having her sweet cunt around their cocks he hisses within his mind.

 

It is his privilege alone to do so. He would make sure of it, by any means necessary.

 

A knock stirs him out of his dark musing and Spock looks up to see his sour looking valet, made even more foul by his mood standing at the door.

 

“ Speak.” Spock snarls at him.

 

“ Sire, you wished to be informed when the hostess Uhura returned from her travels.”

 

Spock stands and he can feel his lips fighting to break into a grin. “ Have her sent to the palace posthaste.”

 

“ Very well, Sire. Should I give a time for her transport to return to her madam?”

 

Spock does allow a smirk then as he picks up the bottle of wine and brings it to his lips. He pauses long enough to speak with that unnerving hint of a smile as he stares at the help. “ She will never go back if I have my way. Retrieve her, Fa’al. She is going to die when she sees me.”

 

The Valet’s brow bobs in surprise and horror at the statement, unsure if the prince is trying to have a go at the Terran concept of humor or if he speaks truth as all Vulcans do. He looks as if he means to gather enough audacity and courage to question the royal but  Spock is already busy preparing himself for a spell of recreation before she arrives. He almost vibrates with excitement.

 

He can hardly wait.

 

-----------

 

Nyota looks between her two guard escort walking her towards the doors she knows to hold her fiendish bastard of a Vulcan prince.

 

She nibbles her bottom lip in irritation that he would summon her the moment they made landfall. She hadn’t even washed the sleep from her eyes before his butler and valet hauled her away from her sisters.

 

Her host mother was far from eager to part with her, given the list of clients Nyota had waiting to be graced by her. She was the only female to entertain the Vulcan prince Spock for as long as she had. Given his discerning tastes, the resulting gossip had her placed high up on the galactic social pedestal.

 

She was already known for her natural aligital whether mental or physical but everyone was abuzz with guesses as to what exactly she had done to enthrall the prince into sending the large chest of precious gems after her. Though it been more than enough to have paid for her schooling, training and boarding thrice over, her madam’s grip only tightened around her.

 

It went without saying that she quickly became the most requested hostess in Terra and male and female alike were falling over themselves to scramble for a spot on Nyota’s booking list. Patron proposals, scholarships to dance academies and internships at other school centers flooding in as well but her madam kindly but firmly refused each one.

 

Nyota does not show the bitterness she harbors at each dismissal but the pain of the missed opportunities is clear in the way she stares out the window as they traveled along on tour. To her host mother, she’s nothing more than a beautiful, dancing tart for the populace to consume. If the mistress had her way Nyota is sure she’ll never be free of all of this .

 

Her sisters hadn’t the heart to be truly jealous of her. They saw the state Spock returned her in, her torn clothes and stockings. Her eyes were red and glassy like marbles  as she hobbled back towards the bathroom with thick, white fluid tinged with red running down her legs. They were all silent until the door slid close behind her before breaking out into loud, raspy whispers.

 

Sure, Rand and Chapel had been put through the paces with that lunatic Sybok but what had that creature of a brother done to Uhura that they couldn’t see? When she opened the door again they had the good grace to act as if they hadn’t been gossiping about her a mile a minute. She limped over to the nearest couch and lost consciousness as soon as she hit the padding.

 

She hadn’t slept more than four hours before her host mother gathered them all up for their annual performances across Terra. Nyota cursed Surak that it had to be today of all days as she forced her body and mind to comply. The rest on the shuttle was short lived as well as they dropped off in Europe for their northern hemisphere appearances.

 

A different city but the same dance as she moved herself by rout to chase away the memories of her torrid night with the prince. She had never gotten to dance for him in private but he did make her move to the beat of something else.

 

She had taken a hypo and a stiff shot of brandy before every performance on tour but there was little time for her to regain her strength and recover. Her period coming at the tail end of the trip further hampered matters but it was her mind however that troubles her.

 

Nyota craves him like a moth desires the flame though it knows it burns. His passion infected her like nothing she’s ever known. Having him inside her was like a snuff of orion spice cut with sugar. The whole encounter felt surreal in how masterfully he played body. There was no way not to come, not to cry out his name as he held her in his arms and molded her to his whims.

 

Try as she might she can not shake the bastard prince from her thoughts. The way he held her, ground himself inside her, kissed her as she came and made her feel as if she lov-

 

“ Right this way.”

 

Nyota swallows as she glances over to the surly valet as he opens the doors to the chambers she remembers walking into less than a week ago. They seems larger now in the light of day but the brightness of her surroundings continues to reinforce the hypnagogic tension she feels racing inside her.

 

She ignores the brutes on either side of her and walks in with an air of serenity she does not feel. Nyota good at faking things though.

 

Her host mother has taught her a great many skills, laughing sincerely in the face of terrible jokes, casting a blind eye to the horrors of their Vulcan overlords, feigning interest over dry conversation of astrophysics and summoning up energy she knows herself not to have to sing and dance until the sun summons her home.

 

She’s an excellent fraud but the prince saw right through her charms. In fact, that evening Spock tore them all away and laid bare what they knew to be the truth of themselves. As crude and barbarous as their time had been, it was also the most real thing Nyota had ever experienced.

 

Neither of them had put up any fronts about who they were, judged the oddity of their wants, needs or fears. How strangely sad that the one person to know her deepest desires was the one person Nyota felt would be the end of her.

 

“ Spock?” No answer. She glances around but sees no movement.

 

Spock’s not immediately visibly in the foyer so she moves further in and passes into the atrium of his wing. Pale yellow light funnels in from the ceiling onto the pool below, making a hypnotic display of white wavy squares along the bottom. Nyota looks around the humid room and still does not find him. Apprehension fills her as she thinks about the room that lies just to her left which should contain his bed.

 

She cannot bring herself to open the massive carved doors so she instead goes to her right which from the floral smell contain his private gardens.

 

A thankful sigh leaves her lips as she spies the Prince basking in the sun in the rock garden. His eyes flicker open at her approach and he gives her a small, cryptic smirk. “ Nyota.”

 

“ Your royal highness.” she says with a curtsey, fanning the pale bell of her gown out at her sides.

 

She looks up to see him frowning and rising to his feet. “ You are to address me as sire or Spock.”

 

“ My apologies, sire.” she replies with a bow of her head.

 

Spock lifts a dark brow in her direction as he moves to retrieve a towel from a nearby table. His robe is open and the pants he wears are either drenched in sweat or water, she can’t decipher which. Nyota tears her eyes away from his form in time to see that he caught her staring.

 

“ Are you quite serious about calling me sire, Nyota? As if I haven’t been inside you?”

 

“ Sire! Please!” she whispers harshly looking around to see if anyone has overheard them. This only seems to further irritate him as he continues on after drinking down half a glass of water. “ Worried that someone will overhear that your cunt milked a royal cock or are you just ashamed that you liked doing so…?”

 

“ Spock! You fuc-”

 

All too quickly he has her in his arms and pulls her up along his waist. Nyota makes a startles gasp as his mouth goes to her neck and his hands go pawing at her behind. He nips at her jaw and whispers huskily into her ear. “ That is far superior, you calling me by my name.”

 

She scoffs with a roll of her eyes but the way his tongue is tracing the space behind her ear makes her eyes soon roll backwards with a flutter. Pressing her along the hard plane of his bare torso, Spock hums lazily as he continues on in hush tones. “ We are lovers. It would only benefit us to refer to each other so intimately.”

 

“ We are hardly lovers, Prince Spock.” she snaps at him breathlessly trying to free herself from his arms. Already she feels damp but not merely from wetness of his clothing. His lips brush along her neck and she wants to curl herself around him and devour his mouth like before but he’s the last son of a bitch who deserves a kiss.

 

A sharp pull at her hair has Nyota’s eyes coming to rest on his scowling face. “ That is very harsh language to use towards the queen mother, my human. Be careful that no one of importance can hear you.” he warns her darkly.

 

“ It’s a turn of phrase.” she hisses as a non-apology. “ I’m sure that she can’t help you being such a horrid monster.”

 

He hums mirthfully and kisses her soundly on the lips. “ You believe me to be a monster? To you, Nyota, I have only shown my best. Though if you are curious to see my worst, that can certainly be arranged this afternoon...”

 

Nyota recoils in his arms with an expression of disbelief. If this is his best, heaven help those that saw his worse.

 

“ It never does aid them, Nyota, your figmitived Terran heaven. Nor will it help you here.” he answers her thoughts with another kiss. Instinctively she squirmed against him as he plays her lips like now should be able to.

 

Damp as his clothes are the heat that he emits feels magnified, almost sweltering against her. He shifts her higher in his arms, makes her feel dizzy with a feeling she’s uncomfortable with identifying.

 

With one hand cupping her the swell of her rear Spock takes the other to caress her face as he pushes her up along the hard line of his erection. “ I missed you, Nyota. Did you miss me?”

 

Nyota turns her face away from his lips as she feels her cheeks burn. She debates answering him, knowing he’ll see the truth of her feelings even if her words make a strong lie on her behalf.

 

Spock grunts in humor at her defiant behavior and tilts his head to try and catch her gaze. “ Silence, then? Too ashamed of the truth?”

 

The hand at her face catches her chin and he kisses her again, more deeply this time. She opens her mouth and engages his tongue in a feat of strength that she steadily loses. Spock cups her face and tilts his head to fuck her mouth more soundly. She very well can’t call it kissing anymore with how his tongue is thrusting and curling inside of her.

 

The dampness she fussed over earlier only worsens as the press of his lips makes her lose what’s left of her dignity. She moans needily into his mouth, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke as Spock’s hips roll between her legs.

 

That rich, addictive longing she felt before wells up between them. Her eyes flutter open to find him staring back at her like some wounded animal.

 

He missed her. Not just corporally but emotionally as well. With the hand at her face, the prince pushes his possessive yearning towards her like some paltry gift. At her inspection, Spock’s smoldering caress becomes more tender and the way he holds her now brings water to her eyes.

 

It’s a first for either to feel this ardant about anyone other than themselves and underneath the filth and the lies the world and his madness would have them put on, are the first hints of genuine affection.

 

Spock, as a royal, is surrounded by yes men and human lap dogs. As much autonomy as one would think he’d have he was bound by the expectations of his father’s court and service to the people of Vulcan. Nyota, on the other hand, is employed by nobles as no more than a plaything and source of entertainment.

 

But somehow, some way, the toxicity of their cultures have cleared the veil between them to make room for something neither one expected.

 

Nyota will never forgive him, all the pain and embarrassment he put her through but for this moment Nyota allows herself to think on their time before his debasement of them both. The time where he followed her like a consort, spoke of books and philosophy, star gazed from the queen mother’s rose gardens and played his lute for her.

 

If only she could have kept the sweetness of that late evening without knowing the bitter truth of his perverse nature later that night she thinks tearfully as he breaks their kiss to nuzzle her face with a Vulcan endearment. “ I cherish thee, little human.” he sighs with his face contorted with a pained into the barest hints of sadness.

 

She feels own face mirror his and before she can reply he kisses her once more with that strange rumble from his chest reverberating into her mouth. He’s purring? She observes in awe as he pulls back from her lips with a loud smack. “ What is your regard of this one?”

 

Nyota glances down between them as she’s once again reduced to silence.

 

If she were honest, there was a hopeful part of her that Spock had hurt that yearned for him to be good and kind. That being said, there was a larger, instinctual part that loathe the very ground that he stepped on. God she did not want him .

 

“ But you do want me.” he murmurs against her lips, sensing her mind. Nyota shivers as his warm breath tickles at the moisture lining her lips. Staring back at her in wide eyed admiration, Spock punctuated his thoughts.“ I understand your disdain however.”

 

He moves to kiss her again when she turns her mouth away with a huff. “ Don’t put on like you know me.”

 

Spock draws his mouth up in a small semblance of a frown that she would turn away from him. What was the point of her doing so now after all the kissing they had done earlier.

 

“ I hurt you, I know that.” he says calmly, bumping his face along hers. She pouts again when she spies the contrite look he has housed in his gaze. “ It is only a logical biological response to fear and be repulsed by me. I...I am sorry that I…”

 

He swallows the rest of his words and looks just as flustered by his statement as she does. He exhales crossly before sniffing at the air. He gives her an accusatory look before posing the question that’s written on his face. “ I smell blood. You...you are bleeding?”

 

Nyota blushes self consciously and tries to scramble down out of his arms but only manages to have him pull her closer. The heat of him is stifling. “ Yes, it’s my menses...my apologies.”

 

He gives her an odd look as if something just occurred to him, lighting his face with a grand revelation that worries her. In a frightening way he almost looks delighted by the news. “ No apologies are necessary. I find the timing to be quite fortuitous for us. Tell me, are you fond of your attire?” he asks plucking at the hem of her collar.

 

“ My gown? Why? You feeling destructive again?!” she glowers, clutching her fingers into the neckline of the bodice. The remnants of her golden pearl leotard were still being repaired by the tailors, one swear and stitch at a time.

 

“ Not particularly but it would be ruined for what I have planned...” he replies with simple Vulcan honesty. He rubs his nose alongside hers and she can smell the sugary scent of spiced wine on his breath. It explains some of the sweetness she tastes along his tongue but doesn’t tell her why the rest of his mouth tastes so good.

 

“ I could have you fitted with something else. Perhaps a fine Vulcan robe? I would hate to sully this garment if it is dear to you, especially after I was so zealous with your costume before.” he says against her cheek. She scoffed and moved against his face to catch his eye. “ You did not seem so apologetic the morning of.”

 

Thumbing along where one of her nipples lie hidden beneath her dress Spock tilts his head and gives her the smallest hint of a smile. “ I have just devised an exciting way to free you from your madam. I think that even you will find enjoyment.”

 

Nyota shifts uneasily in his arms as his hips become more aggressive in rolling against her pelvis. If he keeps it up there’ll be blood on both of them.

 

“ Sire, do you mean to...?”

 

She can’t believe she’s even trying to ask but she can’t find any other reason for him to be so concerned about her clothing or his interest in her menstruation. The thought of it makes her squirm in disgust. Why would he even want to? What pleasure is there in taking her the way she is now?

 

“ Why will you not call me my name, Nyota?”

 

Nyota pulls back her head to stare at him. The grief stricken tone of voice does not match the blank expression of his pale face but she can feel it in his touch.

 

Spock wants her to himself, wants Nyota to want him as madly as he does her but she holds her starkly away from him. He aches in his side at her every rebuff as he tries hard to bridge the gap separating them. The one that he created.

 

“ Something...indefinable has past between us. Do you not feel the same pull? Though you hate me, you cannot deny this inexpressible feeling we share.” he pleads, holding her face to look at her. Nyota stares stubbornly at the line of her cleavage, trying hard to ignore the heat he inspires. He will have none of it.

 

His lips part with a sigh and at her temple she can feel the immense weight of his pining pulling down at her sanity. He makes a whiny huff and that strange, second eyelid slowly folds over his eye before snapping back to the corner which it came from. She blinks up at his handsome face once again struck she’s not dealing with a human man but an alien male bent on having her as his own.

 

“ Do you not know it burdens me too? Keeps you on my mind, keeps me stiff and aching, makes me want to give you a world or three if my father would allow such gifts.”

 

Nyota bites her lip and swallows her retorts when Spock goes on like man possessed. “ You don’t have to like the fact anymore than you have to like me but is it not easier to give in and enjoy what there is to be had? I certainly gain no pleasure from ignoring the truth, no matter how gruesome it is on its face. To be drawn to a female such as yourself can only be expected. It is normal.”

 

“ Spock.” she starts with a sigh. “ Whatever you would call this, it’s not normal. I think-”

 

A low rumble thrums through his chest and he presses her towards him with a hand to her back. “ Say it again.”

 

“ What? Say what?” she asks searching his face. In the background she hears voices coming from the adjoining gardens. Vulcans she surmises from their flat tones and low treble.

 

“ Say my name again.” he groans, thumbing along her spine.

 

“ Spock?”

 

Spock closes his eyes and savors the sound like one would in the taste of something splendid. When the prince opens them again his lids remain low and hooded, darkening his already black eyes with a look that makes her stomach knot knowingly.

 

“ You want to be free of your madam? You want to be my female? My consort? My queen?” he rasps. Nyota balks back with a blush as he crowds her space in anticipation. She can feel it beating at her like the waves of heat issuing from his mouth.

 

“ It is not for me to want anything.” she answers indirectly. It’s one thing to have happen to you and a whole other experience to welcome them as your fate. If she were to ever be free what could so do and where would she go?

 

Being Spock’s female did not have the most pleasant ring to it based on her time spent with him. Yes, he was unduly handsome and made her ache with a need that he was more than able to satisfy but he was also very unhinged to be quite frank.

 

“ Knowing you has only made my disposition worse, Nyota.” he agrees to her assessment. His hand goes to her wrist, thumbing along the thin skin there, staring down at it with an unfocused gaze. “ But I would be mad for the sake of you, attend and protect you gladly if you would only have me. Do you not want to be free of this life? The endless parties and leery company? You could still have them if you wished but their obligation would never touch you. You could organize a week long fete and I would not be piqued in the least if you decided to not grace your guests on any of the days.”

 

Nyota laughs with a shake of her head before she can stop herself and she feels his resolve towards her harden as his caress moves to her forearm. “ Be mine, Nyota and I will free you.”

 

She closes her eyes and sighs. “ You already have a bondmate Spock. My host mother isn’t letting me go anytime soon either. Not after you paid a king’s ransom for our evening.” she scolds him.

 

The voices she heard earlier are coming closer now but they are not any she recognizes. A teetering laugh rings out above the quiet din like a bell. Nyota tilts her head in the direction of the noise and listens intently. Was that a human voice? Host sister Rand maybe?

 

Spock draws her attention back to him by holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “ You have little faith in me, hostess. Do you think I am without a plan? That I am a novice at such power plays?”

 

“ Spock I…”

 

“ Trust that I will free you and it will be done.” he presses on. “ I know you want power over your person. I saw it the evening you danced before me. I felt it that night when I took you into my arms and onto my lok. You wanted your freedom as much as you wanted me, you just didn’t think either were possible so you denied yourself. Say that you are mine and I shall grant you both.”

 

“ One can never been free. You can’t even free yourself of the court! My emotions and dreams have nothing to do with this.” she spits out in rising anguish.

 

He gave a slight shake of his head and leans close to her face once more. “ They have everything to do with everything, Nyota.” he drawls. “ I was brutish towards you because I did not know what kind of woman I had sunken my cock into. You are singular, vibrant and you are the most exquisite sight among man and Vulcan alike.”

 

“ Lies.” she flushes hotly but Spock denies her accusation by painfully tightening his grip.

 

“ You know it to be true. You can feel it for yourself with just a touch. To me there is no other but you, and as much as I wish that you were just some other talented human whore,...you are much more than that.”

 

“ Oh so I’m a defiant, talented whore then?” she says trying to steer him away from the feelings he wishes to convey. It’s unnerving seeing a Vulcan be so emotional verbal when their faces show nothing of what lies underneath.

 

Spock sighs in frustration and lowers her down to the ground. Nyota moves to draw some space between them but his hands stay tightly latched around her narrow waist. Funny how such a small gesture can make her feel so delicate and cherished.

 

He lowers his face and nuzzles his nose against her small, round ear. “ You are real, Nyota. The only real person I have met and it becomes you.” he whispers. “ The fraudulent nature of your profession cheapens who I know you to be. I would not have you put on this mask again. Did it not feel glorious to be completely unhampered as I had my way with you? You hated me and I allowed you to show me all the ways. I savor your scratches, your slaps and your bites...you remembered what happened when you bit me little one? How I spilled inside you…”

 

Nyota swallows loudly as the memory presents itself in her mind in all too real recollection of feelings and sensations. It was as if he was snug inside her once more filling her quim with his heat and seed. “ I remember.” she whispers shyly. He seems pleased by this and he brings his hands to her face.

 

“ I will free you.” he says cupping her face with that odd tingling sensation in her head. “ All you have to do is trust me…”

 

He leans closer and brings his lips to her ear, thumbing away the hair that blocks it before he whispers through his teeth. “ ...and don’t hold back your screams.”

 

--------

 

His farce is one of the worse imaginable but maybe that’s why it feel wickedly good to play out.

 

His face is immobile while his body and voice speak volumes about his sudden, visceral displeasure.

 

“ Was is it that Lordling prince Kirk that stole you away from me? What does he have that I do not possess in abundance?” he growls, placing her small hand along the large bulge of his cock. She flinches away with a squeak but he hold her palm there as he rolls lewdly against it. “ Answer me! It was more than enough for you before.”

 

When she struggles to find her voice his lips draw into a thin, grim line and he casts his eyes away from her. “ Is it another? Is that why you’re so displeased with me? Why you flinch when I come near you? Well!?”

 

She shook her head playing her part of failed courtesan for the others eavesdropping in the gardens on the other side of the hedge. She sweetens her voice and lays her free hand upon his bare chest. “ Spock, it’s not that at all! Wait, what are you doing...No!!”

 

He seizes her by the neck of her gown and with both hands the alien prince rents the bodice down the middle with an angry grunt. The modest swell of her breasts bounce free before him, her nipples tightening in the cool breeze of the courtyard.

 

“ You harlot thief!” he spits at her. “ You’ve made light of my affection and repay me? With pretty words to steer me clear of you!”

 

Scrambling to cover her chest, Nyota shakes her head and continues to quietly treat with him. “ Spock, listen-”

 

“ You dare to address one of the royal family with such familiarity?! Insolent human, if you wish to be familiar you need ask your highness…” he sneers, stroking himself through his damp breeches.

 

He watches her cross her arms over her breasts and look up at him in fear and disgust. “ Royal? You’re nothing more than a coward!”

 

“ Nyota…” he warns her narrowing his eyes but as she agreed she continues to egg him on. “ You’re a weak thing, some creature that’s neither Vulcan or human! You don’t even have any common decency! That’s why no one loves you! ”

 

Spock’s nose flares at her words. “ You will pay dearly for your words human…”

 

His grip on her arm as he drags her away then is similar to the one he applies later on her thighs as he works himself between her legs and snarls above her but that was yet to come.

 

Spock took no time in closing doors behind him, storming through the garden like he was beyond livid. He wants them to hear, to have their imaginations run wild so that they do half the work for the pair.

 

Even now he can hear a timid human voice quailing among the Vulcans busy murmuring amongst themselves back at the garden. Just as he wanted. He rather did enjoy making a scene.

 

As Spock made his way towards his bedroom, shouting a tirade of logical reasons why he should not even bother to trouble himself with her, Nyota felt his glee bubbling up her arm.

 

He flung open the heavy oak bedroom doors, sending them crashing against the rock walls into a resounding boom that echoed throughout the halls.

 

“ Let me go, Sire!” she shouts in earnest, tugging away like an animal on its way to the butcher.

 

“ Why do you still not call me by my name!? Must you be so truculent?” he growls between his teeth. “ Do you not know how to address me, wench?”

She starts to answer when he slips a hand between her arm and her breasts and fondles the mounds with a hedonistic smirk. Nyota gasps at his duplicity and brought her hand down hand across his face. He turns with the force of it and holds it still as he licks at his newly bleeding lip.

 

“ Tell me, is it Sire, Spock or your Highness I should refer to you by?!” she scolds. Her hands stings from the impact of his hard face but she ignores it to continue their farce. “ Or is bastard prince the only name you are known by?”

 

His face contorts into a wicked facade, sneering at her with barely suppressed amusement. He grabs her arms and holds them away from her and grinds himself lewdly against her. He licks at her face and hums as she trills in disgust.

 

“ Hmm, you refuse to call me by my name, then? Did I hurt your human emotions, little harlot? Or just your brain with having to use it to think?”

 

“ You are even more of an asshole than you were when I last saw you, you spoiled brat!” she yells twisting in his grip.

 

All too quickly her world spun as he lifts her up and fling her clear across the room, onto the bed. She lands with a bounce and crashes into the pillows before coming to a stop. Nyota hurries to regain her feet on the firm mattress but Spock was on her in an instant, pulling her back towards him by her ankle as he tore at the knot holding up his pants. “ Come here, little tart.”

 

She planted the heel of her foot into his shoulder and swatted at his hands and he hurriedly gathered up her shirt and tore it open. “Your spoiled brat wants his treat and he wants it now .”

 

She shrieks as the fabric falls back in tatters, much to his delight. By way of encouraging her screaming, he takes a quick bite to her calf. She shouts and yanked against the manacle like hold he had on her legs to try and free herself.

 

“ What’s the matter, bastard? Can’t lift your prick unless you rough a girl up? Intractable noble…!” Nyota growls at him as she twists away from his body along the thick duvet.

 

Spock rolls his lips over his tongue as she loses all her pretty trappings and taunts him. In the touch of his hand, Nyota feels the pleased little shiver that washes over him as she curses him and struggles on the bed. He finds her more enticing than when they last met. Something about how things were transpiring, the fact that she agreed to be his on the condition he agreed to be hers makes him dizzy.

 

He is hungry for her.

 

Spock jerks her legs apart and rips the utilitarian underwear from around her waist, throwing it along with the pad attached to the bottom of it over his shoulder. He stares down at the bare mound below him, ripe and wet like peach split along its seam but instead of its typical, clear dew, it trickles red. “ How curious…” he murmurs tilting his head back and forth as he takes her quim in. “ I wonder how it feels now?”

 

He pulls her closer, moving his hips to jut the head of his lok up against the tender lips of her entrance when she further arouses him with a frightened little mewl.

 

Spock closes his eyes with a moan before casting down his gaze with a look of indifference. He starts to speak to her quietly but by the end of it he is shouting so loudly it echoes off the walls.

 

“ I love you. I love you more than anyone and what do I get for it?! YOU being turned into a whore for all the world to touch! For FOUR days you left me unable to eat, sleep or relieve my cock and today you will reap the consequences…”

 

Without pause he flips her onto her belly and pulls her back towards his cock by the flare of her hips. One hands leaves her waist to flip up the ragged edges of what’s left of her skirt over her rear. She feels her pussy clench at the cool air of the room and gush blood onto the sheets.

 

Nyota shuts her eyes tightly and hiccups at the air as she tries to hide herself away from him. She doesn’t know whether she’s more embarrassed by her period or their behavior. How was this going to free her?

 

“ Heartless human…you left me sick.” he snarls over her. Unbridled excitement stings at her skin as he runs his palms over her rear. “ I would die from it, from you if you had not returned!”

 

“ No! It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault!” she cries loudly, trying fruitlessly to escape his grip when his free hand lands a stinging slap to one of the fat cheeks of her backside. She yelps in protest and kicks aimlessly behind her but the Vulcan brute is too close behind her.

 

He restrains her legs and spreads her wider. “ I care nothing of whose fault it is! You’re mine!”

 

“ Let me go!” she cries.

 

He dips lower and she feels his breath tickling at her back. “ I can’t.”

 

He pushes forward and fills her completely in one smooth stroke. “ I won’t …”

 

Nyota’s breath hitches in her throat and she cries out into the quiet air of the room. He throws his head back with an exultant groan and smooths one underneath the back of her dress.

 

“ Yes…” he hisses feeling her cunt tighten around him as he rolls his hips against her rump. “ Yesss…”

 

Nyota’s eyes roll back and flutter wildly in her head. Oh god, he felt so...so good . Whether the sensation is his or her owns, she hardly cares. The size of him is still bites and worries at her belly but the slick blood that’s currently there had him gliding in with little trouble at all. His hand slinks back down to her hip, holding her firmly in place as he pulls out and glides back in with a firm pump of his pelvis. Nyota sobs and claws at the sheets as his lok drives itself steadily deeper, wringing her poor body free of blood and comprehension. “ Oh god...Spock.” she sniffs against the sheets. “ Oh Spock, please.”

 

“ Beg me for nothing! I will give you what you need, have no doubt of that!” he growls huskily above her. “ A good, sound bloodletting.”

 

A red stain gradually grows beneath her, as he works her over. The sounds that fill the room are even more horrid than that of their first encounter. The wet smack of skin against skin is punctuated by her needy whimpers and his heavy, stilted panting. Nyota huffs pitifully into the duvet, trying to stifle out the noise and feeling but it’s all consuming. Though his hand is nowhere near her face, she can feel Spock there in her head, crowing gleefully inside her as he fucks hers senselessly.

 

“ You will bleed for me, just as I starved for you.” he rasps above her. He grips her tighter and she feels his madness rolling over her. It wasn’t like what human would call hunger but he craves her with an ache, that he readily tries to fill.

 

Menses or not he needs her, and he’ll take however he can. That the sanguine fluid buffers the rough edge of his strokes pleases them both but for Nyota this only goes so far. He is still rutting her like some wild animal, taking her in the fashion that all hostesses say to be most client’s favorite.

 

Spock shifts his weight and drives himself into her faster with a pleased groan. Nyota joins him as the new position affords her clit a wealth of stimulation. Every time he pummels his lok forward, the heavy pendulum of his sack slams against the sensitive nub. Between that and the delirious touch of his psionic touch, Nyota fears she will break sooner than later. The pressure of it already feels as if it’s far too much to weather, as tiny sparks of pleasure spike through her.

 

“ Spock, Spock...I can’t…” she utters in an animated chorus of high pitched whimpers.

 

“ I missed you. I missed you so badly I thought of nothing of you, of doing this…” he gasps into the air as if she hasn’t spoken. His hand goes to her hair and tangles itself into the strands while the other caresses her thigh. She licks her lips and raises her hips to meet his strokes while he looms above her with a fierce scowl at her. “ But your madam would try and keep you from me. I will not stand for it.”

 

He smoothes his thrusts and glides her back by her hip, taking her slow and shallow. Nyota makes an exasperated wail of frustration as he teases them both with his lok moving the tight ring of her entrance.

 

“ Why?! Why won’t you just stop torturing me and just get it over with?” she mewls into the air.

 

Spock withdraws entirely and she shrieks into the air. No! He can’t just rip her clothes and berate her in front of everyone in the garden and then fuck her during her menses only to leave her dazed and bloody with nothing to show for it. “ At least give me release!”

 

Spock blinks above, tilting his head as if he’s considering her words. “ Beg me.”

 

“ Beg, you ? You alien dog I’d rather die!”

 

The fingers wedged in her hair tighten and he growls above. “ So be it.”

 

When he bites her neck and enters her once more, Nyota’s exquisite scream is the most sound he’s ever heard.

 

------------

 

Spock looks up slowly from where he’s reclining to find the stunned faces of his butler and staff standing horrified at the scene before them. He feels himself cheer as his plan continues to fall into play. He gazes back down to the PADD he’s reading and ignores them as if nothing of import has happened.

 

“ Good, you’re here. Please retrieve me another pitcher of wine and perhaps a few slices of k’vaas.”

 

“ Sire, the hostess…” his butler swallows thickly, most likely the bile rising in his throat. Most did not the stomach for such vile views like Spock did but then again Spock was not like most Vulcans or humans. “ What about her.” he asks in disinterest.

 

“ Does she...require medical attention?” he asks in almost a hopeful tone. Ah, yes, just the question he can answer to his liking.

 

Spock glances over to where Nyota’s sleeping, blood covered form lies haphazardly in his bed and clicks his tongue for affect. “ No. No need for all that. What I require is a bath. Seems I got carried away and made a mess of myself.”

 

A maid falters backwards as he rises up from the lounge at the foot of the bed, his hands, mouth and lap stained red from his coupling with Nyota. He must look like some monster born out of nightmares for her. All the better to weave his fabrication with.

 

As he saunters towards the bathroom, Spock thinks on his good luck in that Vulcan females do not menstruate. Vulcans in general were largely ignorant of human’s alien biology as it was seen as a trifling matter to trouble one’s self with. He had his suspicions that the madams of the host houses only send out their ladies if their are clear of the ‘condition’ which also led to none of the Vulcans present suspecting her true state.

 

Spock only know because of his mother and maybe a choice few others that tended to her rooms and bedding. But even if they knew, he had made sure to send Nyota into such a deep sleep with that ghastly, superficial wound on her neck, that the illusion of death would appear all too real.

 

The prince is sure they are busy pondering over the cause of his supposed crime of passion as they tidy up his room. All the maids give surreptitious glances in her direction while the valet and butler try and fail to avert their eyes.

 

Spock for his part acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary, stepping into the hot water of the bath with a sigh and sinks down towards the bottom. Whatever tension was left over from her absence fades as Spock happily reviews his plan.

 

He’ll have her all to himself now, covet her away to Vulcan with him and make his show of using his telepathy to ‘revive’ her and with giving Nyota new life along with the rumors surrounding him.

 

Sybok will be curious of his sudden, new power and if pressed, Spock thinks he will tell him. He loves his brother and knows that his secret will be safe with him, for they are closer than most.

 

As Spock knew her to be, Nyota was smart enough to realize that her madam would not part with her after their raucous night sequestered in his chambers. Beyond that, there were his enemies in the court who would love to slay a lover of a prince to see him wallow away in his grief instead of attending to his duties. Now, however, how could they kill someone the bastard Prince could bring back from the dead?

 

When the gossip mill gets ahold that he murdered his lover in a fit of passion and rage only to revive her later, they will wonder what terror Spock would visit upon them if they were to cross him. It was exactly the power he craved and the protection Nyota needed. Being the toted favorite of a Vulcan Prince had its perks but to be the paramour of a Mind lord had even more.

 

His father has quite a few tricks that had those in the court even fearful to gaze upon him. His brother was in possession of a strong telepathy of suggestion, along with a few others that he inherited from his mother.

 

Spock was still coming into his own but he was no less powerful than his in most psionic respects. With fear and doubt surrounding the nature of his powers he could relax a bit more knowing his Nyota would be safer than she would be otherwise.

 

Spock casts his focus down to the pinkish water lapping around his torso and quirks his lips up at his rippling reflection. He couldn’t wait to bathe his beloved. It was a pity about her gown though.

 

----------

 

Her dreams are strange and vague. Voices come to her going in and out as she sleeps. They sound disturbed as if frightened, whispering harsh or speaking in rushed clips of Vulcan.

 

I thought he favored her...She was so very beautiful, a pity that such things attract males like him...I heard her madam allowed another to kiss her on the cheek, surely that is what provoked him…

so much blood, by surak she is still bleeding there, what a monster...I once believed Sybok to be the mad prince but our lord has outdone him twice fold...did you hear, he slept with her body last night and wept over it, actually cried...did he have to bite her so savagely…I heard them yelling and screaming from down the hall, I dare not go in until he commanded us to, it was the worse thing I’ve ever seen…

I heard that he suffered from engulfment on their first night together and that she fell into a human version of it, that illogical mess was the cause of this atrocity…so much blood...Spock will not let us perform any rites over or for her though he wears clothes of mourning himself, why not just return her body to the earth...he plans to take her body with him to Vulcan, what madness, where will it end...there are rumors that he has lain with the body, do you think there is some truth to it...so much blood...

 

On and on they went never ceasing in their talking even as she feels her heavy limbs moved this way and that and enveloped in something quite soft and airy. There are times where there is only one voice she hears, but it’s almost like it’s in her head. She tries to move towards it but it tires her to reach for it.

 

The voice is familiar and she wonders why it gives her pause to hear it as she feels her body being carried and coddled. Try as she might, Nyota cannot open her eyes to see its owner and feels her mind no closer to stirring. She has never slept so deeply before and yet been so conscious of her surroundings. The coolness of the air changes to that of something heavier and hotter and the light of the sun while brief is overbearing.

 

Silence is rare but for a small moment it traps her inside of her body after a large mass of murmurs slips past her ears. The voice that comforts her is silent but she can...feel that its owner is near and somewhat grieved. It’s odd because that same assured feeling of it’s sadness tells her that he is excited if not joyful.

 

The air stirs around her as she is once again moved by many sets of hands. Perfume fills her nose and the soft cloth around her before is replaced by something rich and silky. The deep voice she knows returns afterwards, running its hands and its mouth over anything not covered by cloth. Nyota wants to touch him back, return the affection but is forced to settle for luxuriating in the sensations.

 

Later when the voice’s body rests alongside her, Nyota tries once again to move but again her body does not heed her call. It doesn’t bother too terribly and see wonders why before she drifts off again in that sleepy lull that being beside the voice inspires in here.

 

When she becomes aware again she is lying down on something hard and cool like rock but she doesn’t understand why or how. A voice she doesn’t recognize chants above her and the smoky smell of incense fills her nose.

 

Other voices surround her, repeating the words of the solemn canter near her, occasionally disturbing the air above her as she imagines them waving their hands above her face. After a long while the voice she knows speaks and gently caresses her face with a crestfallen sigh. From his fingers, Nyota feels him tugging at her and then a rapid yank as she’s pulled free of her sleep.

 

Nyota bolts upright with a croaking gasp, clawing at her throat and shivering against the rock slab she’s on. The voices around her take form as her eyes adjust to being open, all of them tall and richly dressed.

 

“ She’s...she’s alive?!” a human exclaims, in amazement, shocking Nyota at her words. Alive? Of course she’s alive...was she not before?

 

“ Brother, what have you done?” another voice intones, from a Vulcan on her right. His voice however flat seems filled with the same wonder that fills the human lady who had just spoken before.

 

Nyota blinks rapidly and groans as her muscles cry out in protest at their sudden use. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since she’s last moved but it feels like ages as she fight to use her limbs. She regrets touching her neck the moment her fingers come into contact. The flesh there feels new and raw and brings tears to her eyes as she accidently scratched at it. “ Ah!”

 

Nyota works to move her legs, trying to leave the rock and flee the crowd surrounding her but they fail her and she begins to fall towards the ground. Strong arms gather her up before she’s halfway down and she is turned upright to see Spock’s beautiful handsome face. His eyes are search her face as he brushes away the long waves of hair that fell in front of it. She hiccups at the air while her heart hammers in her chest and roars in her ears. She is so disoriented that at first she thinks it’s all a dream.

 

Spock soon verifies her reality with a heart wrenching emotion of longing as he palms her face and brings her closer. His lips finds hers and he kisses her hungrily on the mouth, much to the protest of the onlookers surrounding them. Vulcans and that one human woman. She is dressed so nicely, much finer than she’s ever seen a human dressed and the Vulcan that stands beside her wears so many gems and metal that its a wonder that he can stand.

 

Spock amusement tickles her nose as he pulls away to regard her face once more. “ Nothing will keep you away from me now, Nyota. Not even death.”

 

Chapter Text

Spock reclines on the palatial bed watching his Nyota nesting in the pillows fast asleep. Combing his fingers as best he can through the tangled mess of her hair, he blinks with a languid contentment. What a pretty, little dear, his lovely, little female is. He could touch her all day like this he knows assuredly.

 

When his fingers graze her face, Nyota hums with a sigh. Shifting with a loud, snuffling grunt into the sheets, she turns and unwittingly exposes the lean line of her figure to his eyes. The contentment he feels grows into something more heated as he takes in the marks at her shoulder and bruising at her hips.

 

She should sleep more he thinks, as his cock hardens at the soft sound of her breathing. This past week has found Spock inside Nyota more than out but he can hardly keep himself away from her. Each morning is the same, he rises early and goes about his duties, working tirelessly so he can free as much of the day for her as she adjusts to life on Vulcan.

 

She slumbers deeply, with no knowledge as to his actions and whereabouts until he greets her with an ardent romp within their bed. Nyota does not like to be roused in such a fashion but he makes sure she enjoys herself by the end of it.

 

Nyota’s sleepy murmurs draw his attention back to her parted seam of her lips as she slowly crawls out of her deep dozing. Below his fingers he can feel her mind rearranging itself from its hibernation and taking in what sensory input could be had as her body grows more alert. It’s fascinating to witness the human mind emerge from one state to the next. Spock had little warning to know that her mind would be so addictive, a veritable spread of new ideas and sensations that he never thought to dwell on when it came to his own humanity.

 

As much as his little alien lover was comparable to his biology and intelligence, Nyota’s nature and inclinations were breathtaking to witness first hand. The taste of kvass on her tongue, heavy heat of his homeworld baring down her frame, the plush cushion of his lips to her center and his lok thereafter, cascade through him in a wonderful kaleidoscope with every meld he enforces.

 

Everything from the way she fastidiously calculated her sums to the dreamlike specter of her fickle human memory had Spock contrary with how to he wanted to enjoy his own personal hostess.

 

Should he first relish her mind as she reads Vulcan’s history and watch as the scenes unfold from the extraordinary production of her imagination? Who wouldn’t want to see the mind lords of old battle to the death in the name of their city state or religious logician, with wearing armor now displayed within the palace halls and astride war Sehlats, with their gold capped saber teeth glinting from their gaping maws? It was a especially enjoyable to receive Nyota’s strategic opinion over battle tactics or amusing when she thought of some military genius as stupid or more mental out of it than he was brilliant.

 

With all that though, wouldn’t he rather force himself upon her when Nyota least expects it? Gather her rebellious spirit by way of his telepathy as he plunders her over the back of the chaise with his hand over her mouth and the other toying with tight knot of her bottom? Oh, and when he spanks her fat backside while still within her, how sweetly she milks at him, how melodic her cries are!

But then again, he rather likes reading Nyota poetry in the gardens, where he can feel her emotions ebb and flow with the current of the prose. At those times the connection between them thrums with a near audible buzz within his head and he knows she is surprisingly contented with him.

 

Tucked away under the violet curtain of the K’ai trees’ stringy spray of branches, they lose their stations and become King and Queen of the secrets. Neither has to speak them aloud, his fingers at her temple slip the little treasures between them along with their promises to one another to keep them.

 

Like how Spock had once eaten meat on a dare from his brother and grown violently ill for days after and how Nyota had been sneaking lessons at the Imperial university on Terra when she was suppose to be using the time to study dance and music. The temptation to sit in on language seminars and any other number of classes had been too much for her to pass up and even harder to stop.

 

They would go on like that for hours, losing time and their inhibitions, a couple of times doing what Nyota termed as ‘making love’ but typically ending their sessions with him splayed across her lap like some giant terran housecat and her gently exploring his face as he half dozed, half meditated in her presence. She was so lovely to be around, Spock could hardly reason why he hadn’t been more discontented in his life before he obtained her. Her charm and grace had been enhanced by years of meticulous grooming but her character and human ka’tra enraptured him.

 

He liked this, actually being loved and wanted, looked forward to as it were but how then could he compare the sweetness of that to the tart tanginess of fucking her until his Nyota was a sobbing, stuttering, sticky mess of emotion?

 

Hmph , Spock grunt mentally as he glanced at the healing scar at her neck, he hated making such decisions. Kaiidth, he couldn’t have it both ways. Human’s memories while like watercolor, still held true to the picture even if the details were muddled. He could not treat her so callously and expect her to genuinely meet each, unprovoked harshness with a kindness of her own.

 

Nor would he want her to. Just as he said before, Nyota Uhura was straightforward and singular and between them and only them, were they allowed to be themselves. To her, Spock attached all the trappings of a Vulcan princess, hand and chamber maids, tutors and scholars, her own room and gardens, denying her nothing if she even so glanced at something in interest. Of course, in turn Nyota denies him nothing either, allowing the prince full reign of who she is as he wrings the both of them dry and spent any evening he saw fit.

 

He would say it was almost better when she protested, hotly slapped him on the face or ran away from his hungry, cagey hands and screamed as he impaled her with his lok but now having had the sweetness of Nyota coming to rest inside his arms at her our volition, he is curiously crossed by which he rather prefers.

 

How he carried on with himself before her Spock does not dwell on but with her now, the prince wishes to lavish her at every movement. Human’s blood is quickened, so he dare not waste what time the do have to chance, as doing so would be illogical and simply not something he cares to do. He wants her so he takes her.

 

She is nearly conscious when Spock finally crawls over her back, yanking down the sheets and sniffing at her hair. He tilts her hips up just enough that he can stuff his lok into her center. Nyota makes a sleepy noise at his first touch at her hip but cries out with a wailing gasp as he pushes forward and growls in her ear at her tightness.

 

“ Mmm.” he hums delighted to find that she was already wet. “ Good morning, my heart, my soul.”

 

She’d always question why he didn’t say the traditional half and he’d reply as always that he had neither so she was the whole for both of them.

 

Clawing at the sheets, Nyota turns her head to face him the best she can while pinned beneath his hips and torso. She curses with a shout as he juts himself further in. “ Fucking Twat!”

 

“ That is my current activity. A very astute observation, Nyota.” he teases, nuzzling at her ear.

 

She moans as he withdraws and drops her head back heavily onto the pillow. Once she relaxes a bit more, he pushes forward, savoring the growing ease in which he glide between her legs. By the third stroke, Nyota’s center wetly accepts to the hilt, sending a tingle up her spine and back down into her toes. Nyota’s lips murmur his name with a pained expression but what she feels couldn’t be further from her body language. Spock knows for certain because he feels it too, how ridiculously hot he feels as she swallows the length of him whole. He would never get tired of any of this. Of any of her. His human is so stunning it nearly devastates him to contemplate it. Kissing at her ear, he moans “ You bewitching little tart. You make me smolder.”

 

After the next thrust, Nyota is sighing in defeat and awe, as the heat of his skin coupled with that of Vulcan breaks her out into a sweat. “ Spock...why must you always wake me like this.”

 

He shifts the hand at her hip and cups her mound as he shifts inside her. “ I have a gift for you and I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

 

She whimpers and exhales heavily with her face jammed against the sheets. “ Heaven forbid I keep a royal waiting. Oh! Oww!”

 

Spock hums into the bite he made, mirthful to a fault as Nyota sucks at the air with a hiss. “ Spock, please!”

 

He removes his teeth with a lick to her skin and rolls his hips in a way he knows she loves but refuses to admit. “ Always nagging at me. Are you my mistress or are you my wife?”

 

She huffs at him with a sneer as he pushes her rump up higher and her legs further apart. “ I dunno, if I were your wife would you torture me like you do?”

 

Spock pouts above her with a puzzled expression, stopping his hips and wedging his lok between her. “ Torture? I bring you gifts? I lay down and meld with only you? I wake you each morning with a sign of my affection towards you, how is this unwarranted or unwanted?”

 

“ You…!” she growls, reaching behind her to rake her nails down his arms. “ The only good sleep I ever had around you is when you ‘killed’ me.”

 

He inhales sharply and seizes her by the waist, jutting her plush rear against the flat, beveled plane of his pelvis. “ Don’t tempt me to finish inside you unless you want me to remain there.” he hisses hotly against her neck.

 

At the thought of his knotting, Nyota becomes docile. His hands tell a different story than her body language, her temper still simmered beneath the surface at being awoken. Her lust also flares at the remembered pleasure of having him stuck fast inside her while he mouthed and kissed at her face.

 

He chuckles in spite of his practice not to and feels her quake under his weight at the noise. He resumes his stroking while nuzzling the circular curve of her ear. “ You want that, my little water sprite?...as much as it makes you feel out of control to have me trapped inside you after filling you up, you desire it now, yes?”

 

She moans pitifully in the sheets as Spock draws his hand down her sides and drowns her in his lust. He licks her neck and mouths hungrily at her nape as he slowly churns himself deep inside her. Hands back now at her hips, he growls with a groan as the fickle start of her pleasure grows and waxes against his skin.

 

With every thrust, every tender caress and love bite, it buzzes against him like a vibration. Surak, if she only knew how maddening she felt wrapped so tightly about him, how it agonizingly heart wrenching it felt to have that tingling lust saturate through the silken skin of his lok.

 

Oh and for her, for his precious little, lust devil, Nyota of Terra, who knows nothing of the rarity of her beauty and the splendor of her mind, she too suffers under that mind melting titillation. He feels it as he fills her, stretching, demanding every inch of space she can give him, she too feels her senses losing focus. She also feels like she’s burning alive but left unscathed. Together they make fire.

 

The thought of burning has her clutching at the sheets and huffing loudly into the gold and maroon pillows with a tearful facade. “ Oh...oh god, help me.” she sniffs. “ It’s not natural, not at all how you make me feel…”

 

He doesn’t wish to make her cry, he knows she does not enjoy doing so, but he loves to make her feel good, plague her with that maniacal high that she inspires in him. If it causes her to cry from the thrill of it then he shan't trouble himself from stopping. Besides she’s angelic when she’s mournful like this.

 

“ It is a natural thing, for you to want me. Only natural for us to have this. Do you not want this Nyota? Do you not want me…?”

 

His words hang heavy in the air as Spock continues his languid pace within her, contented just to be with her but eager to hear her speak the truth of how she feels. He can feel the stirrings of it, that Nyota feels more than resentment, lust and kinship now. / Say it, beautiful one, say how you feel towards this one...speak it! Claim me back! Sanoi, Nyota? /

 

She tosses her head away from his face, hiding her own in the crook of her arm. Hmph defiant, little cunt, always besting him. As soon as he grew tender with his human, she snatched away the one thing that he truly wanted while his guard was down.

 

/ No, tenderness from you today it seems, you cruel strumpet./

 

Nyota shudders with a angry groan as he withdraws from her, leaving both of them dissatisfied. “ Spock? Wait. What are you doing?”

 

Spock ignores her question and slinks over to the side of the bed with his lok stiff against his belly and opens the top drawer to the gold laced marble nightstand. Reaching inside he retrieves a small silk bag he placed there earlier and brings it over to her to where she’s still laying beautifully rumpled.

 

Nyota watches him between the breaks of her curls, looking over the bag in quiet interest. Spock pulls at her arm until he frees it from her side and gently rests the ruby sachet in her hand. “ Open it.”

 

She bites at her lip and watches him, a nervous habit of hers that he knows comes from her insecurity in his unpredictable behavior. It is for this reason that Spock procured the gift to give Nyota in the first place. Once she see what awaits her inside, Nyota will be certain of his affinity towards her or at least that is what he hypothesized. He watches her move use her hands to feel what might lay inside and feels his lips twitch upwards in a small smile.

 

“ Open it.” he prods again.

 

Sitting up a bit, Nyota tugs lightly at the bag’s ruffled opening and peers inside. He watches as her face morphs from mistrust to confusion and down into awe. “ Spock? What…?”

 

Nyota eagerly tips the bag and plops her prize onto her palm with a sound of approval. She runs her fingers over it and flicks her eyes over the smooth polish surface of the turquoise colored gemstone. “ It’s gorgeous…”

 

He saddles closer and draws her to him with an arm around her waist. “ It is yours. My tutors have told me of your progress in your studies. Most impressive, they said.”

 

She huffs out a half-hearted laugh and rests against his shoulder. The small, intimate gesture pleases him immeasurably. “ Yeah, they probably followed up that statement with ‘ for a human ’.”

 

Spock hums with his own version of amusement and teases a finger at her chin. “ They wouldn’t dare say such things to me.” he drawls. “ they know how I came to be and wouldn’t dare insult the queen mother, the prince she bore or his consort. They must speak truth but with slander they know to hold their tongue less I cut it.”

 

Nyota swallows loudly at his words and turns the gem around in light within the perch of her fingers. The opal fractures and ruby rosettes dotting the blue orb flash blindingly in the light of the room like the multi facets of a diamond. Even as surrounded by opulence as he is, Spock must confess that it is an especially choice mineral deposit.

 

“ So this is a gift for doing well in my studies then?” she says still questioning the presence of the jewel.

 

Spock’s hand travels about her body, head tilting as he contemplates her words and igniting the nerves with the fire he feels as he takes the sight of her in. She ruefully leans into his touch and smiles when he sends her a particularly gleeful spark from his hand. He is unable to help himself, pelting her with his emotions as he does, he’s so giddy with the prospect of giving a gift.

 

The young prince has never given one in truth, moved only by obligation and duty but for her, Spock wished to give her everything. This morning he would start with the jewel and work his way up to the alpha quadrant, if she so desires.

 

“ It is something that I have sought to give you for a time now. A gift to let you know how gratified I am in having you here with me.”

 

“ As if I had a choice.” she snorts derisively, closing her fingers over the stone. Spock tilts his head to catch sight of her face being obscured by her hair but Nyota’s expression remains hidden. Her emotions, however, were plain to see as she propped herself up against his chest.

 

Spock knitted his fingers around her chin and tilts her face to towards his. “ Despite my brutish ways Nyota, you always have a choice. If you truly wished it I would end myself for you. You would not be free of everything that would seek to have you but you would be free of me.”

 

Nyota swallows and glances back down at the gem. “ You shouldn’t jest so morbidly, Spock.”

 

“ Vulcans do not lie.” he says quietly, drawing her attention again from the feeling that passes between them. He tells her something, a confession that neither one is expecting to hear or know to be real but in his conviction, Nyota can feel that as much as he has power over her, she has quietly gained just as much over him.

 

It was frightening for Spock but stimulating nonetheless. If ever he should meet his end at the hands of another, to have Nyota, his little savage savant render him lifeless gives him a surprising measure of peace.

 

“ What’s this stone? I’ve never seen it before.” she asks, ignoring his macabre musing she senses through his torso.

 

“ Vokaya. It is only found on Vulcan and is exceedingly rare. This stone is one of three at this size, the other two sit on my father’s crown.”

 

Her mouth opens wide in surprise as her eyes glance between him and the precious stone between her hands. “ Holy shit.”

 

As much as he wanted to correct or tease Nyota about her language, Spock presses on with his explanation. “ I went to the royal vault and selected it myself but I was at a loss of how it should be rendered.”

 

“ Earrings, which I know you to favor?” he says thoughtfully, stroking her ear, down towards her shoulder..

 

“ Or a necklace which would draw attention to your lovely marking…” he croons on, lightly touching her scar. “ but I thought of something practical hence your orb.”

 

His fingers stop right at the light tickling fuzz of her quim, and project his excitement. Nyota furrows her eyes at him and she palms the gem in her hand. “ Practical how? A PADD weight? A door stopper? How would that be practical and how exactly can I wear this?”

 

“ How indeed.” he says pushing her down back onto the mattress with a smirk flashing across his face. “ Please, allow me.”

 

He crawls on top of her with a toothy kiss at her lips and pulls one of the many plush pillows underneath her back.

 

“ Spock, what are you doing?” she gasps as he breaks away and shifts lower.

 

“About to adorn you.” He sets his mouth to taste every bit of hers before lathing the mounds at her chest. Nyota whimpers and holds his face as he begins to suckle at her with her hips rolling of their own volition against him. “ Oh...oh yes…”

 

/ You like that my Nyota? You enjoy my mouth on you? I assure you it is only the beginning.. ./ he promises in her mind.

 

She is so pleasantly sensitive here, that Spock counts her nipples as half of her undoing as Nyota’s gathering arousal slicks wetly against his abdomen. “ Spock please…”

 

He moves on from her chest after a few raspy licks and pulls her hand with the stone to his lips. Locking their eyes, Spock plucks the orb into his mouth where it clinks with a porcelain-chime against his teeth. Nyota sits up angrily and shoves him roughly across the shoulder. “ What in seven hells Spock! You just gave that to me and you ate it!?”

 

He rushes her back down onto the bed with a hearty push of his own and took her wrists into his hand. Grabbing the pouch the jewel was presented in, Spock uses his teeth to loosen the rope from velvet and he uses the soft binding to secure her hands to the bed. Nyota jerks beneath him nervously, uncertain of where this is headed along with the fate of her safety. “ Spock? Spock! What is this? NO!”

 

Spock blinks at her slowly with his lids hung low and pets her stomach with a feel of reassurance. Their hands away from their faces and his focus wavering as the scent of her addles him, Spock opts for emotion over speaking through the tiny bond between them. He had yet to do more with it but then again he hadn’t truly set about trying to make one in the first place. It wasn’t there and then, in the midst of his first helping of her it was there, just as small and brilliant as she is.

 

Spock lays still until Nyota relaxes and even then doesn’t proceed until he feels her trust once more. He reclines out onto his belly and moves the long length of her legs over either of his shoulders with his face edging closer to the wet curls of her sex. Comprehension dawns on her of what he is about to do and she feels her lust bloom once more out of the husk of her earlier fear. Oh yes, little lover, you’ve found this one out. Open for me...

 

“ You are lovely.” he says quietly, leaning his head against her thigh. Her response is immediate embarrassment but he rebukes it by saying it again. “ Nyota, you are lovely .”

 

She’s quite lovely he thinks again, spreading her before his eyes, inspecting each glistening fold for where he would like to first taste her. Her hips wiggle on the pillow eagerly, earning her a chuckle and a pop on the bottom from Spock as he shifts her over and pulls her closer.

 

The first lick, sends his inner eyelids sliding over his eyes with a flutter. Delicious. Decadent. Addictive, he thinks running his tongue over his lips. The earthy flavor bursts across his tongue and teases his nose to come closer. Her center needn’t ask Spock twice.

 

Nyota quails and bucks against the restraints, as he delicately teases her. His lips and tongue take turns meeting each slick petal until she straining to jam her quim against his mouth. “ Please, please make me come! Please…!”

 

By now his jaw is damp and his nose is equally coated but as much as he would love to have her come now, he remembers the orb warming on his tongue.

Carefully, Spock grips her thighs and spreads them wider and gives the lips of her nether a debauched kiss, sinking his tongue into her channel, flicking and twisting the green flesh into her until she begs for mercy.

 

“ Fuck! Please! Have mercy!” she begs, wrenching against the rope. “ Spock! God dam….Oh!”

 

In a full throated growl, Spock gives it to her, along with her gift, pushing the hot, precious stone inside her quim’s mouth until its muscles clench around it hungrily. “ Oh...fuck!” she cries, yanking against the bindings at the new invasion. She flexes around the egg shaped orb involuntarily, moving it up and against that soft little patch within her that makes her tremble when Spock is in her. “ Oh God! Oh! It feels so good I’m going to die!”

 

“ I should hope not.” Spock replies, now that his mouth is free. “ Delay that for at least 39 more seconds?”

 

“ 39?” she whines curiously.

 

“ I want to feel you come around it.”

 

He fastens his mouth back around her, putting that melodic voice of her back to work. Nuzzling her clit and holding her captive with one arm around her leg, Spock slips his tongue inside her once more, this time to flick his tongue against the gem. She gushes wetly but still has a bit more reserve that he can tap into before bring her over the brink. His free hand rubs softly at the tight entrance of her rear and presses forward with her moisture to guide him in.

 

Nyota’s back rears full off the bed, arching stiffly and making noises Spock only now discovers a human can create. She’s babbling a mix of words he can hardly decipher but her emotions give meaning to them all. She’s completely taken with everything he gives her and he, whatever Spock is, is going to make her shatter into a million pieces and that this moment she wants this climax and him so very badly.

 

/ Yes, my human, come on my tongue and around my finger...come for me, beautiful one./ he thinks purring into her folds and pumping at her rear.

 

/ You heathen! Look what you make me do, what you've turned me into.../ her mind screams at him as she works and fails to compose herself.

 

He can barely contain himself either, bucking his straining erection against the mattress as he leaks profusely across the sheets at her sobbing pleas from inside and out. He eases another finger into the tight little knot, followed by one more and when he curls them against the spongy wall separating her channel and her anus. Rubbing gingerly at where he can feel the orb filling her, he wiggles against it until Nyota clamps down around him like a vice.

 

Nyota’s mouth opens, her eyes shut and her body shivers as if she’s been doused in ice water. “ Oh Spock!” her voice keens out in an ear splitting wail. Her breath and muscles spasm in chorus as her orgasm claims her and reverberates out and into Spock’s anxious mental touch. It crashes over him in shape of tidal wave, swift and absolute, clawing him down into the depths where his lover is drowning beneath it.

 

He gasps with a hiss and comes violently against the sheets, trapping the wet expression of his ecstasy between his belly and the bedding in a rapidly growing, sticky puddle. Two minutes and 28 seconds pass where neither one can do nothing but whimper in extensional bliss while the climax between them rebounds and grows and whips the sensations against them. “Ny…”

 

Order within his mind is temporarily disrupted and in that blank spaces between Spock is nothing but the feeling between them. “ Nyota. K’diwa.” he blubbers, like a child. “ By Surak, you’ve broken me.”

 

Sybok touches his mind with startled concern and wonder and he realizes only too late that his shield must have been temporarily disturbed during their climax. He roughly shoves him away and leaves him alone with Nyota. It was not for his brother to have anything pertaining Nyota. She was his and his only and he would not share her, even like this.

 

He gulps at the air and struggles to regain control of himself but her body is still singing that siren’s song between her legs and bars him to the bed with a trembling quaking. He feels his early statement come back to haunt him, as he rests his head in between her leg and pelvis.

 

As much as it frightens him, he loves how much Nyota makes him lose himself, how she makes him lose control and think of nothing but her. Having feelings towards another has been novel but...it was more than he could have imagined for himself, having never felt empathy at all. She makes him...weak...but it is a wound that he readily picks back open.

 

Only after 23 minutes of being paralyzed against her cunt can Spock move himself again. Her center’s dew has dried across his face in a thin gauzy mask that now flakes in the disturbance of him shifting his jaw to yawn. His torso is still sticky and wet as he arches his back and runs his hand through his hair, gumming up the trail of hair stretching down his stomach towards his still swollen knot but he ignores it as his lok lays heavily across his thigh, now finally sated. To touch it now would only stir it stiff once more and as he originally thought, he means for Nyota to rest.

 

He glances over to Nyota’s still form and has a small smile form across his lips at her face. He leans over, releases her hands from the ropes and massages the skin and veins there with the occasional kiss.

 

Nyota’s mind feels distant and adrift, aware of nothing, in a dark, deep softness of her head. She is asleep...or unconscious...same difference he supposes as he brushes her hair with a finger. Her pelvis and the pillow beneath it are a sodden mess and he won’t leave her to rest in such a state if he can help it. It more than a wet towel could be called to do so he makes a decision to do something out of the ordinary.  

 

For the first time in his memory, Spock draws a bath himself. This too he finds novel as the feeling emotion to his wants and needs while he searches the cabinets for oils and soaps to wash her in. He settles on a wash that smells the most complimentary to her alien, saline scent and walks back to the bedroom to gather her up. Nyota fits neatly against his chest, mumbling softly as he adjusts her, to have her settle more soundly in his arms.

 

The first step in the bath is chilly but he bares the discomfort as a hot bath for him would surely mean boiling her alive. She wakes briefly at the feel of the water lapping against her skin but goes back to dozing once he settles them only the bench lining the tub interior. Spock stares down at her face and tries to quantify the who she is to him as he begins to wash her.

 

T’Pring had never inspired such reactions from his person and she was, for all intents and purposes, the female that was closest to him. He thinks it’s because she was so very Vulcan. Her looks, her wit, her charm and grace were all very closely regulated and intentional, leaving nothing to chance. It made her quite boring to converse with and even more dull to tup.

 

But then again all humans before Nyota ( and his brilliant mother aside) had all seemed quite dim witted and nonsensical. Acting on whims, making the same mistakes over and over, how had humans ever survived so long without the Vulcans to guide them? Their philosophers from world round were logical, even admirably so but the population at large baffled Spock into irritation. Nothing annoyed him like beings that should have known better but had a predilection for imbecilic behavior. Then again, Spock’s father had told him much the same about his own disposition, not that he cared. He always had his reasons for doing things but rarely the desire to give an explanation.

 

But now he wishes to delineate why he was smitten with the human cradled in his arms. She was special, singular. His…did he need more reasons?

 

As if sensing his regard, Spock glanced down to find her dark brown eyes observing him from the dark hood of her lashes.

 

“ Sorry to wake you.” he says ringing the rough sponge against her shoulders. “ I wished to clean you.”

 

“ It’s okay...thank you.”

 

Her mind is hazy much like it had been this morning before he woke her but there’s a sense of disorientation that has her still numb feeling. After a while of scrubbing her sides, Nyota questions him. “ What did you do to me.”

 

“ I believe you know the act quite well.”

 

She shakes her head and squirms a bit in his arms, disturbing the water. “ No, I mean to my head. I can feel you.”

 

“ Do you enjoy it?” he asks curiously rising the soap from her back.

 

“ I don’t dislike it.” she shrugs as he continues rubbing the sponge against her. “ I just feel...I don’t know,... surrounded.” she whispers.

 

She shivers against him with a flock of idea flying too quickly across her mind for him to read or see clearly. She is concerned but for reasons unknown. Spock blinks at her and pauses his washing, resting the sponge along her lower back. “ What is amiss?”

 

“ The jewel, is it still in me too?”  She is avoiding him, but he allows the distance. Her worry doesn’t seem much clearer to her than it did to him. Once she’s ready Spock has little doubt that she will pelt him with that wicked tongue of hers. He’s always up for a good tongue lashing from her. Anything from her. “ I don’t remember you taking it out…”

 

“ Of course, it is still in you, it is suppose to be. At least for a while. Many female bondmates wear these to strengthen their muscles and restore the moisture therein. I recognize I have...not always been my most gentle with you. This will help.”

 

She rolls her eyes at him and flicks at bit of the bath water in his face. “ What? You think getting pretty, little baubles are going to win me over to you then? That I’m some wealth-hungry wench that suffers your attentions in the hopes of gaining a fortune I can do nothing with?”

 

He resumes washing her mildly with a small tug playing at the corner of his lips. “ I think you are a pretty, little thing that hates to love and loves to hate the affections of a wealth-burdened wench that suffers from never getting enough of you.”

 

Nyota casts her eyes away with a tired huff but her timid glee and tired resignation give him a small measure of peace. “ Straddle my waist and I shall do your hair.”

 

“ Oh you can’t do that, you’ll end up tangling it.” she fusses but she’s already moving her back against his chest and leaning her head against his shoulder. “ Try not to mess it up too much. Heaven know how many times you’ve ever washed hair, including your own.” she teases, messing with a stray lock of hair that’s sticking out from his bang.

 

“ I shall be careful not to ‘mess it up too much’.” he promises and proceeds to dip her slowly towards the water. “ Just be obedient to me for once.”

 

It’s a messing affair, shampooing and conditioning her hair, but he delights in the simple pleasure of playing in her hair and being down towards her face for a lingering kiss. Nyota emits a happy trill of noises from her throat, completely lax against him with eyes sealed shut. “ This is nice…”

 

“ Hmm.” he agrees as he combs his fingers through. It was strangely therapeutic, petting her as he was.

 

Spock also finds massaging her scalp was a new treat of mental diversion. Thoughts, ideas and memories drizzle down into his mind like a burst of confetti, flickering vividly before dying out like a flame. He goes over the them slowly as he rinses her locks, mulling over her short list of happy recollections, like her first dance recital, having an inspiring conversation with a young man in Andorian and receiving her first perfect score on her finals from the classes she took in the academy.

 

The rest are comprised of the way he makes her feel when he’s nurturing and levelheaded, caressing her as he is now with his feelings washing over her. Others are from what his wealth and title afford her, which is time to be her own person. Private rooms, maids and gardens, an education in anything she wishes to know and a studio to dance to her heart’s desire.

 

He has yet to see her dance just for him he thinks ruefully but he’ll amend that soon enough. And hear her sing. There are times when he is attending to his brother or father and seeing to his duties and he hears her fill the halls with it. His happy little lark, his brother calls her but he can feel the seed of Sybok’s jealous.

 

Nyota has taken so much of his time and energy that he hardly goes to his brother for company as of late. Then there are those fleeting glimpses the crown Prince is able to glean when Spock’s control isn’t as it should be and his jealousy turns more licentious than envious. Envious that he didn’t secure Nyota for himself those many moons ago on Terra.

 

Sybok’s not the only one who has taken notice of her. Those curious as to his newfound mildness observe her during her coming and goings, some are even as bold as to dine with her when Spock can not attend her and each one departs looking forward to seeing the hostess once more.

 

As he roams the halls with his guards and staff in hand, he hears the court go on about her and himself as if his ears were as deaf as a human’s. In low but loud whispers he hears them:

 

Charming girl, so amenable to engage in conversation...to see her dance is to become enamored with Terra once more...only her cleverness outperforms the beauty of her face...Prince Spock is so very fortunate to have her as his pleasuremate...it is rumored that he may replace the T’Pring with the hostess, not an unwise decision in my logic…

 

…are they bonded now, she radiates as if they are one...how she was able to soothe the mad beast which was the bastard prince, I do not know but I do pity the human, however illogical that may be, that she must live with that monster...seeing her attend the prince in all their finery is a pleasant sight indeed, Terra has a bright future ahead of it now that the jewel of Nairobi haunts our halls...

 

...blessing of the T’Priah upon that dear human that she gives birth to an heir and temper the prince so much so that Sarek renames Spock as the crown prince of Vulcan...

 

As he performs a final rinse and pulls her from the stone tub to towel her dry, Spock thinks of their words and the woman before him.

 

What was it about her that enchanted his brother? What was it about this human that had every Vulcan graced with her presence hanging on every word she gave them? What was her allure? Who was Nyota Uhura and how had she bewitched three quarters of the court to love and adore her?

 

“ What are you thinking about?” she asks, glancing down at his face as he kneels before her with a towel around her waist. His eyes flicker up towards her face and move back down to navel. So very much my dear but nothing I will tell you yet he thinks, kissing at the stomach. “ Breakfast.”

 

It wasn’t exactly a lie but food and consuming it were far from his thoughts. She should know what is on his mind, it hasn’t changed since they’ve met.

 

--------

 

Their breakfast, which has never been in a set location, is mostly done in his wing of the palace. There Spock has set up rooms for her comfort as well, though he can tell the servants are reticent to attend her in such cool conditions. All the same they seem more inclined to attend him now.

 

They sit out in the shade of his courtyard, dining on fruit, rich porridges, breakfast rolls and pastries. Nyota thanks each server and eats her fill enthusiastically, occasionally slipping I-chaya a butter kup ( bread/bun) as if he can’t see her doing so. Even the craggy sehlet has taken to following her around and eagerly lies at her feet when she finds herself in Spock’s gardens.

 

As he chews thoughtfully over a cube of thuhk (cheese), Spock gives weight to another gift he had planned for her. His father had given his mother a rare silver coated sehlat as an anniversary gift of their bonding that was now prime for whelping. I-chaya’s family line had been present to the royal family for centuries. Though not his first choice for studs, his father’s old pet along with his mother’s new one might produce a lovely kit for Nyota to raise and dote on.

 

His valet refreshes their water and tops off his flute when he turns his heads towards him.

 

“ My thanks, Thanar.” he utters while retrieving his glass. Though quiet before all that attend them fall silent in shock at his gratitude. He’s never once thanked them, it was their duty but they were good at it and attended to him faithfully for years.

 

Thanar shakes himself from where he has frozen in place and gives a deep bob of his head. “ My pleasure and my duty sire.” he replies mildly, though Spock notes the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. He has made him feel valued. Interesting.

 

Nyota’s presence has changed him in was none of them thought possible, himself counted among them. His wickedness is reduced to their bedroom and in his humble opinion, is conducted all in good fun. Debatched though he may be, since his return he has yet to severely abuse his power or exercise his madness upon his subjects and the help, as was his favorite pastime.

 

Now all things revolve around her, and Nyota is most pleased when he is pious and at peace. The first was rather simple as he always obeyed his father and honored his family as much as his ego would allow him. The latter had always alluded him, until he found himself on top of her and in her mind.

 

He didn’t know if she’s aware of their bond but its existence soothes him like nothing possessed by him before. His mind, once a deep, squalling sea of suppressed lunacy has been tempered into a rolling tide.

 

Whatever little contentment his dancer housed within herself has pierced the thick hide of his callousness and infected him with...empathy. Spock neither liked or found the new development unpleasant but those who worked and lived around him seemed almost relieved.

 

Rumors spread all around the kingdom that the bastard prince was indeed more powerful and more Vulcan than any of them had realized. His human, which he killed in a fit of passion, had been brought back to the realm of the living once again by the sheer will of his mind. It is said that she still bleeds from time to time as a result of her misfortune but is in fact, alive and well.

 

Spock knows there are those who watch him now, in addition to those who always had, to see if he had anymore latent powers to show but keeps to himself as he did before to leave him unsatisfied and curious.

 

“ Thanar.” Spock says from over the rim of his flute. All eyes land on him but he gives his attention to champagne he sips and Nyota who was in the midst of feeding I-chaya another roll. She returns her hand to her lap but the beast goes to nuzzling her arm for another treat, telling of her guilt. Serves her right. Maybe he would use I-chaya as a stud for her cub?

 

“ Yes, sire.” his valet says flatly, oblivious of Spock’s musing.

 

“ I shall address the first appointment of the day. Bring him in.”

 

“ Yes sire, very good. “ he says with a bow. The butler follows after the valet and brings us a somewhat stodgy looking male behind them. No matter his looks he is richly dressed and neatly put together. Nyota and I-chaya look him over curiously as he puts down his glass and dabs his mouth dry. “ Tailor Yonag, I presume.”

 

“ Yes, your highness.” he replies quickly with an ornate bow and needlessly flamboyant wave of his arm. Spock feels his irritation stir at the gesture. He did not take kindly to flippant kow-towing.

 

“ Yes. My butler tell me you have overseen the production of my paramour’s wardrobe.”

 

“ Yes, your highness and what an honor it is. Her measurements have been delightful as they have been inspiring for my designs of her attire. That one is truly a fascinating and beautiful alien.”

 

“ You would do well to keep your flattery to a minimum, especially when it comes to what is mine .” Spock warns as he searches his plate for what to dine on next. K’vass perhaps.

 

The tailor pales and bows profusely. “ Of course, your highness, I beg your pardon.”

 

“ As you should.” Spock crisply. “ It has come to my attention that my beloved’s clothing is shoddily stitched and sewn together. It tears easily, loses its beading at the slightest touch and is so poorly constructed that even commoners would notice the lack in workmanship. Would you care to enlighten me as to why this is?” he asks, slipping the k’vass between his lips.

 

The tailor has grown pleasantly quiet but of course it’s when Spock finally wants to speak. He mops his brow and gives another nervous bow. “ You see, sire…”

 

“ I have yet to see…” Spock huffs after swallowing his fruit. “ Do not tarry. Ex-plain.”

 

“ Well, your consorts clothing is often time found torn or in pieces so we thought to…”

 

“ We? Who is we?” Spock glares irritatedly. “ Should I have a broader audience than I called for?”

 

Yonag blinks at him in growing apprehension and amends his earlier statement. “ Excuse this one, I might have thought to rush production and perhaps lower its quality since the clothing is regularly subject to being...torn into pieces.”

 

Spock sighs through his noses as he stares down impassively at his plate. “ I see.”

 

And for a moment the tailor thought he would leave it at that. Everyone was always thinking and never knowing what the fuck they very well needed to he thought sourly, picking over the fruit.

 

Spock looked up from the plate and evinced nothing of his ire and went on into an allusion. “ The problem is, Yonag, that the clothes reflect poorly on her, which reflects poorly on me and thusly onto yourself. You say they can be torn so you do not do your finest work?”

 

Yonag nodded looking close to the state that humans called a fop sweat. “ Yes, your highness.”

 

“ So when your father bedded your mother and she knit you in her womb, did she then give you deformed arms…?” he asks rising from his seat. “...just on the statistical chance that you would come into the service of the royal family and make refuse attire and then have your arms torn off by the prince in his displeasure…? Because if they were going to get ripped from your torso, why put in all that wasted effort…?”

 

Spock is hissing out each word by the end in a husky whisper as he looms over the near trembling tailor with his dark eyes fixed upon him. “ Do not insult your mother’s hard labor and do not insult me with your trite labor when it comes to my Nyota’s clothing or anyone else’s for that matter. Treat them as you would your own body unless you do not mind the occasional rip or tear. Do you see, Yonag?”

 

“ Precisely so, your highness.” Yonag stammers out with an open expression of fear. True, even from Nyota he can feel her fright nipping at his spine. She has never seen him like this but then again just as he told her, to her Spock had always shown the fair human his best.

 

“ Begone and do your duty. I should hope to never see you again and you should wish the same, no matter how illogical wishing is.” Spock says dismissing him with a nod of his head and another sip of his glass as he reaches over and retires it from the table.

 

“ Thank you, your highness. A thousand thanks.” Yonag swallowed, bowing vigorously as he made his way towards the valet.

 

“ You are most welcome.” Spock hummed drily, over the rim of his glass.

 

When the tailor is out of sight, Nyota rears around and glares out him. “ Spock! You could have been nicer!”


Spock spares her a smile before clearing it from his lips. “ Oh but I was, darling. In the past, I would have just done what I threatened to do. Truly, you have made an honest male out of me.”

Chapter Text

Once more Nyota unfolds the soft, leathery paper in her hands and rereads the handsome script of her lover, spiraling up and down the missive in thin gold ink.

 

Meet me in the K’ai grove after your lessons. - Your prince

 

Nyota nibbles at her lip to suppress the smile that fights to break free but fails in the end to contain it. “ The scapegrace, making me go to him. He’ll probably spank me for keeping him wait for all of five sol minutes, the braggart.”

 

To anyone listening as she makes her way to his gardens, she sounds put off if not put upon but Nyota knows her heart and the desires therein.

 

She loves meeting her prince alone among the K’ai tree, it was one of the few places she feels somewhat at peace after being brought to Vulcan. Just the thought of getting out from underneath the giant domes of dark smoke quartz and various marbles has her nearly dancing through the court. Compared to the violet boughs of the sprawling arboretum, the castle felt like nothing more than an overgrown cave filled with gold, gems and tailless dragons, who were better known as Vulcans.

 

Nyota chuckles to herself at the analogy but quickly tucks it away to clear her face of her amusement. She has a facade to maintain, power to gain and to be seen giggling through the keep would do her no favors.

 

Bowing her head to those she passes, Nyota trains her thoughts onto the giant, purple willow trees that will soon shield them from the rest of the world. It’s only there she’s able to see the Spock who is gentle and sincere. It’s facet of himself that Spock had never once shared with anyone else, not his bondmate, not his mother, not even his brother, a Spock that’s only for her.

 

Only she has been able to tap it because she’s the only one that he thought to open up to. Being in her mind and seeing her for who and what she is, had the mad prince hoarding her like a dragon she thought of earlier, coveting her like its treasure. In his own demented way, Nyota recognized Spock was in love with her.

 

As romantic as the notion is, Nyota has her heart close and her eye wide open. She doesn’t sugarcoat the memories of Spock forcing her, of his alien heat and anatomy steadily overwhelming her until the excess of his seed runs down her legs and her body seizes uncontrollably for minutes on end.

 

It’s not that he is a poor lover, admittedly as her third, Spock is the best she’s ever had, but she did not relish being taken in hand. She was a natural dominant, both in life and the bedchamber but she learned very quickly that Vulcans were the same and Spock even more so.

 

She thinks if she were truly submissive he would have overlooked her at first but her defiant spirit and fierce candace had him questing after her like a hunter to a beast. Only now, with the frequency of tender moments between them, did either party pause to reflect on the diminishing antipathy and apathy Spock had towards others. True that for the most part he was still selfish with an arrogance that knew no bounds but there were small changes about him. When he thought to give her gifts or perform some grand sweeping gesture, fewer of them were done under the guise of what he thought she wants but out of a need to please her with things he knew of her. After every meld she would find herself riddled with jars of fine teas he had tasted on her tongue, PADDs loaded with her favorite authors’ bibliography and a string of professors held in the highest esteem throughout the galaxy.

 

His kindness wasn’t always shown that way however. Their odd, volatile intimacy was no peppered with strange moments of tenderness. The nights when Spock wanted to suckle himself to sleep with his lips fastened to her chest or the others when he would sleep with her as his blanket and stir her mind with a bizarre pang of longing and images that she dare not entertain becoming a reality for fear of losing her heart.

 

Her feelings aside, one thing was clear, no longer did the prince view her as a solely his favorite plaything but his woman and possibly his dearest friend. Whichever title she held with him, one thing was clear. Spock loved her.

 

Though it’s more of a hunch, Nyota thinks it to be true from the way Spock would discuss the lessons that she found interesting on the sweeping balcony of his wing or the times when he accompanied her to the library to see that she obtained every datachip she wanted to read. Each easy encounter has Nyota searching the bond between them as best she can to figure out just who he is now and what he thinks but she is only human and can mule through so much.

 

What she could see though had her softening towards the royal hellion. In the midst of his lust Spock fought himself for the sake and value of Nyota’s budding trust. He treasured their companionship and fostered the idea of having it grow but she could still see how the deviant salivated over every moment he got to exercise his mastery over her.

 

And just as she would search him, Spock skims through her mind, seeing how his teeth ring sharply through her skin but she craves his mark, how his lok burns any channel it invades but claims her in more delicious ways than one. He also witnesses the losing battle at the growing need to have him. All of him.

 

It shames her as much as it pleases her but she seeks to redeem her sinful attraction by having mastery over him.

 

He may be royal but to Nyota, he was still a male and she had spent the better part of her life learning to lead them without their knowledge. All she had to do was not have her nonsensical feeling get in the way but...as much as she was changing Spock, that noble jackass was changing her too.

 

And the gem that Spock gave her, the brilliant crown jewel that he nestled deep inside her, reminds Nyota all too frequently of how much he truly adores her. Their bondlink is hidden away in a similar fashion, with only the two of them know how exquisite and rare what they have truly is and for now, that’s enough for her.

 

To have more would provoke the covetousness of others and jealousy gives way to unpredictable and sometimes violent behavior. Why would she want the world to possibly steal away the best thing she ever happened upon, despite it’s horrid beginnings. She had a freedom of sorts now and with it came the hope that someday, somehow she would be truly free of it all. If she could just stay one move ahead of everyone. Spock thought he was but he was also too cocky for his own good and thought her fucked into near stupidity. But he would find out her cleverness soon enough.

 

And if she was strong enough she would keep from him the one thing that the spoiled Vulcan could not beg, steal, earn or buy. That real, palpable tenderness that he yearned for but had spoiled his chances of gaining when he first forced her onto the turgid length of his lok. She could feel how with every touch he craved that of Nyota, her heart, her trust and loyalty but how was she to reconcile the past with the present? How could she ever allow herself to ever completely love him?

 

Tucking the note back into the pocket inside her sleeve, Nyota makes her way deeper into Spock’s courtyard with the smell of plants both foreign and familiar filling her nose. Despite her refusal to fall in love with the gobby cow of a royal, Nyota still cared for him in a sickening sort of fashion.

 

We every step down the covered mable pathway she grows more giddy of what Spock and she might discuss this afternoon.

 

Maybe she would tell him that she knew the maids and cooks all lovingly nicknamed her young grandmother due to her comparable frailty. It was no surprise to her that they were amused by her strength, years of dance and conditioning had seen to that but having to boil down all her meals so her jaw to mash the hard, starchy Vulcan tubers and vegetables they regularly dined on had them all in fits of Vulcan laughter.

 

As much as they were frightened of her, having been dead once and brought to life by their terrifying prince, the waitstaff and maids doted on her as she took time in getting to know them and appreciating their work.

 

Hostess training had already seen her schooled in how to present herself attractively to Vulcan clientele, how to express herself not through her face but from her body language. With a bob of her head or dip of her chin, Nyota could have the most devoted logican losing his train of thought.

 

By the third day of her residence, the handmaids readily kept her company in her ventures through the palace of their on volition and when Spock was unable to attend her, her chambermaids taught her a number strategy games Nyota had only seen her clients play between themselves as she served drinks or danced.

 

Alien as they were, the lot of them were a lively crew, full of dry humor and fodder for information as to what the happenings were in the palace and alpha quadrant at large. By the end of her third week she felt fully acclimated to the court and by the fifth she was abreast of all the gossip of the court. How the grand duke Silek would often dress at a female in his chambers or how the emperor had a poor heart and would regularly bleed his sons to extend his life, were just a few interesting tidbits that she had learned during her stay.

 

She did, however, miss human company, not that they’re weren’t any here. Sybok regularly brought back his favorite humans from Terra and a few of them are charged with supplying the Terran palace with fresh Vulcan produce and goods. Nyota gets glimpses of them but it’s the queen mother that she sees the most often.

 

As much as she wishes to go to Queen Amanda for the simple solution of company, Nyota dismisses it as quickly as she thinks of it. In the hazy moments of coming back to herself after Spock awoke her from her sleeping death, Nyota remembers the way the Queen looked at her. Horror, confusion and fear were etched in the delicate features of her face. Even then Sarek’s human consort was beautifully composed in light of the circumstances.

 

Maybe she hated Nyota and saw her presence as something that made her son’s behavior worse? There was talk that the princess T’Pring had said that very thought more or less but Nyota wasn’t willing to confirm it. Along with the Queen, Nyota had gone out of her way to avoid Spock’s bondmate as well. Her potential wrath and loathing was not something she was hoping to add on to her list of hardships when it came to living her in the Emperor’s palace.

 

The sound of footsteps traveling along the colonnade parallel to her own draws her out of her thoughts and has her glancing over her right shoulder. What she sees has her blood running cold and her mouth dry as a bone.

 

There, not 15 feet from her was a procession of guards, wait staff and the tall, imposing figure of the Vulcan crown prince, Sybok.

 

Nyota trains her head forward and quickens her gait, enough to speed her along but not enough to make her look as if she were running away, which she very much was. She had never been in such a close proximity as the crown prince without Spock attending her. What was he doing in the garden? Didn’t he have an audience to supervise or a peasant to torture somewhere on his docket? Strange that in all her days here that he would be roaming the garden at the same time as her.

 

With each vine covered column she passes, Nyota sees less of his staff with him. First his maids drop back, followed by his valet, next his guards and then no one. Nyota glance over and around the garden under the giant fan shaped leaves of the vines and stares at the vacant promenade. She lost him.

 

Nyota balks her head in confusion and waits behind her column for the crown prince to pass but seconds turn into a near terran minute and he still has not reappeared.

 

“ How peculiar...where-!”

 

She gasps as she’d pulled bodily against the firm, berobed torso of someone standing up behind her. Strong arms go around her waist and downward bends a head towards her own. The smell of citrus, clean musk, dry wood and smoke assail her nose and the soft, oiled bristles of a beard fan across at her neck. “ Nyota Uhura…”

 

Nyota steels herself and clears her face as she listens to the body of the deep baritone voice behind her sniff at her hair and hum thoughtfully. She could feel, what she assumed to be a male, staring down at her, gauging her reaction but she doesn’t dare look up as his hands run up her torso and stop to perch on her shoulders. As light as his touch is, Nyota feels like he’s placed the weight of the world on her as her feet turn to lead and her legs grow heavy.

 

After a moment, he brings his lips to her ear and she swallows silently. “ You have stolen something from me, something quite dear. What should I, in turn, pilfer from you?”

 

His voice is rich and heady, pouring over her like sap as he slowly speaks to her. Not unlike the tree expellent, she finds it hard to free herself of it. The scent of him feels like it will cling to her for hours and his voice is already gluing itself within her mind.

 

Nyota blinks against the heat of his breath curling along the side of her face as he waits for her reply and straightens her back to draw her body off of his. “ I do not know what you speak of. I haven’t taken anything from you, your highness.”

 

He chuckles quietly and the sound of it chills and excites her body. Her mind, however, is increasingly bogged down with fright.

 

She knows what he did to Rand and Chapel, how they described his psionic abilities no differently than one would describe a vampire. As he took them over his lok, he ate at their minds, feasting at every thought, sensation and feeling they produced within their head.

 

Spock does something similar as he takes his fill but something about the haunted look on their faces makes Nyota feel that, Sybok’s melds are different.

 

Sybok drops his hands from her shoulders and paces around to face her, blocking out the sun as his large body stands before her. “ I would not call my brother just anything. Whether you realized it or not, you have filched him away from me.”

 

Nyota’s eyes blink rapidly as she peers up and takes him in for the first time. True she has seen him countless times now, roaming the halls and attending court but never this close.

 

Just like Spock, he is handsome to the point of surrealness, his ears elegantly pointed and his thick arched brows drawing her focus to his dark eyes and somewhat hawkish nose. His lips look a bit thinner than Spock’s but she cannot be sure, the neatly kept beard he dons obscuring some of his face.

 

As if sensing her appraisal, Sybok steps towards her with a mild look of amusement. “ Looking to abscond with another Vulcan, little star of Terra. I assure you I’m much harder to make off with but then again...Spock has always been so picky. If you made off with him then perhaps you could capture me?”

 

“ Someone that is kept cannot keep.” she replies simply, referring to Spock’s retention of her. “ I’m sure that as soon as your brother tires of me, I’ll be left to host once more.”

 

Sybok reaches out and examines the robe she wears over her dress, thumbing the stitching thoughtfully before catching her eyes once more. “ And what makes you so sure that he would ever tire of you?”

 

Nyota doesn’t have a ready reply for him but the crown prince doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too busy looming over her and trying to pick her mind verbally. Silence she knows can be just as telling as words.

 

“ Our father has a condition, a couple actually, that may have me overseeing the Empire sooner rather than later. I wouldn’t want my brother being charged by my father’s council to bring back what was once dead. Either result of his attempt could be, unfavorable for the rest of the family.”

 

The fingers Sybok has toying with her robe’s sigil stitching leaves the thread to pull gently at the intricate ropes of braids piled on top of her head. Nyota’s breath catches in her throat as he unravels one and then another,  until her hair hangs in a loose mass of waves down around her arms. He tilts his head, looking over his work and lets a small smile escape as his tossels her tresses playfully. It does not feel playful to her however as she holds herself steady and leaves her face blank of all the emotions she feels at his inspection. It all very much feels like a test that she can’t figure out the objective of.

 

Sybok steps back a bit and Nyota takes a deep breath in through her nose as the air seemingly returns to the space surrounding them. She can’t pin down how it is that he looks at her now. In his narrowed eyes is it heat that she sees or coldness? Is he kind in his lunacy or is he a different type of malevolence than Spock? Does he want to take her here in the garden against the pillar or end her with none to witness her demise?

 

He blinks at her knowingly as if he could read her thoughts without touching skin to skin, further irking her paranoia but goes on about the result of Spock’s possible actions.

 

“ If brother dearest were to bring my father back to life, who knows what kind of state that would leave us in as a rule. As I said earlier, Emperor Sarek has more than one malady plaguing his person and I would have already been named to rule in his place. There can only be one to rule the empire and I would hate to fall my father just after he was lain to rest.

 

Or if Spock were to fail in his ressurection of my father’s lifeless corpse, he could and most likely would be seen as a fraud, putting both but mostly you at risk for...unfortunate and unforeseen events?”

 

Nyota gives a jerky nod of her head acknowledging his statements but lends no comment to the matter. Sybok’s lips part with a quirk as he smiles down at her with a sigh. “ You are a lovely little thing but what is it about you that enchants my brother so?”

 

“ I do not know why he favors me.” she says truthfully. Spock doesn’t really know either but she knew he had his theories.

 

“ I can feel you two, you know.” Sybok quips, curling a lock of her hair around his finger. “ When you overwhelm him and he doesn’t think to shield himself from me or finds himself unable. I felt him take you that first night, how thick his pleasure was at having you milk his lok as you cried out his name. It came to me so clearly that I was barely able to leash my own cock. It was as indescribable as it was unsettling.”

 

“ Our apologies, your highness.” she says looking away with a furious blush. A flurry of thoughts wash over her at his statement. Anger is what mainly stains her cheeks, that he would be privy to his brother’s misappropriation of her quim and mind and that he found it just as arousing. There’s also the thought of having to apologize over something she did not invite in the first place, just because it inconvenienced him!

 

Sybok catches her chin and holds it fast as she jerks against his touch. Spock’s vague presence within her mind dims to nothing as Sybok’s mind pushes against hers. “ No need to apologize. None at all.”

 

The tall Vulcan pulls her over by the hip with his free hand and tilts her head up towards his own. Nyota fidgets as he brings his face closer with the heat of his skin starting to lick at her cheeks. “ Sire, I…”

 

“ You need to know, Ms. Uhura, that when I am given the crown that I plan on taking all of it.”

 

The thought of the crown jewel nestled in her channel comes to mind unbidden but before she can cast it out Sybok seizes it and searches her internally for it. / Ah yes, all of it.../

 

A sharp spark pulses through her and she collapses against him with a stuttering gasp. Using the crown jewel within her as an anchor, Sybok flashed the memories Spock carried over to him in a blinding flash. Her heart, her tongue and every other muscle within her seizes in a sensation that she’s only felt before in her quim. In span of second, Sybok drew her whole body into a climax. “ Oh! Fu..OH!”

 

The strength and speed of it left her limp in his hold and emitting a weak and pitiful cry, as she struggled to weather the blow. “ Why...”

 

He draws her up closer with a shush and sighs into her hair. “ I trust that we have an understanding now? How it would be in your best interest to consider my interests.”

 

Sybok lifts his brows in amusement at her defiant silence and props her slowly up against the leafy ivory column. “ You are quite feisty, aren’t you? No matter, just as long as you and my brother bend the knee.”

 

“ I am loyal to the crown.” she hissed hoarsely, trying to compose herself.

 

“ You are loyal to none but yourself, Nyota. My brother may be blind to it under the malady of his affection but I hold no such feeling for you. You do, however, respect the crown and for now, that is pleasant enough for me.”

 

Under the dim shade of the leaves, he moves his hand to caress her face and stares down at her stony expression. Out of a fear that he would have her come again by other means she remembers the note and begs Sybok’s pardon. “ My prince wants for me, sire. May I have my leave, your highness?”

 

Sybok removes his hand and narrows his eyes at her in a friendly contance that unnerves her. “ By all means, hostess, take your leave. Do not keep my dear Spock waiting.”

 

At the mention of Spock, Nyota feels him once more stirring in the back of her mind, curious as the nature of their brief but firm separation. He pulls at her and she feels her body lean over in the direction of his location. “ Thank you, sire.”

 

Nyota avoid everything about the crown prince, from his boring gaze to his body as she moves around him to go after Spock. She has taken ten steps when the crown prince calls after her once more. “ I am pleased you followed my summons. Spock did not write the note. You will however, find him in the K’ai tree grove if you wish to have him receive you.”

 

He turns his body towards her and tilts his chin towards his sternum. The ghostly feeling of his beard passes over her face and neck as he stares at her and hides away his hands within his sleeves. “ Do endeavour, Nyota, to remember that I am your prince.”

 

She doesn’t respond affirmatively or denies the claim but she thinks he half expects it from the way he smiles at her. “ I will see you at dinner, none too soon for your liking, I am sure. Wear your hair as I have it placed it. I prefer it down.”

 

Before she can lance him with a response, he turns his back and disappears behind the column and into the garden, not unlike a tiger melding within its forest.

 

She is unsure of what animal she is in this situation and it bothers her. Is she also a predator that has threatened the territory of the one at the top or is she once again prey in a strange new land?

 

---------

 

Nyota doesn’t speak to Spock about her encounter with his brother. She can’t account for Spock’s reaction or the outcome if the two were to fight. When he had been in her mind, his influence over her had been near absolute.

 

He hadn’t tried to make her come but when Sybok pulled her mind over his and exposed it once more to Spock’s initial carnal meeting of her body, nothing of her could not deny its power. Then there had been his mind’s core, steadily devouring the shattered thoughts that came pouring out of her as she tried to sort out the Vulcan emotion of lust within her.

 

Would that Vulcans were emotionless. How much she wished it but Nyota did not realize the depth of control either brother had over themselves. No matter their discipline their passion was thick within them. Perhaps years of interbreeding among the royal mindlords had caused such a condition. Spock’s emotional composition was different but each prince was the equivalent of a bottomless pit.

 

While Spock sought out physical sensations within the body, Sybok quested for the emotional. Perhaps it was his inexperience of feeling them or the way his humanity had fused with his Vulcan nature but Spock did not ‘feast’ at her mind as his brother did. When Sybok had splayed her mind before her, Nyota’s head felt strangely emptied, leaving her with nothing but the ability to breathe, blink and feel the bodily pleasure he had placed upon her.

 

Yes, he was a player in the court’s chessboard that she had not fully anticipated. She had been too lulled into a false sense of security from Spock’s efforts to obtain her, that she thought Sybok unwilling or disliking the prospect of toying with her. She would have to move herself carefully and that of her plan to gain her full autonomy. If her feral beast was not strong enough to end that of the other then she would lie in wait until Spock could best his brother.

 

When they met in the grove, Spock pulled her to his lap but did not pester her as he typically would. Perhaps her worry was more plain to the eye than she originally thought.

 

He smoothed her hair with his fingers, admiring the novelty of having it down and cradled her in the nook of his arm. “ Nyota, tell me of your studies today.”

 

She did as he bid her and the two of them ignored her restlessness as she recounted what she had learned that day. Towards the end, the fingers he had laced in her hair pulled gently at the strands to tilt her head back for a slow, lingering kiss. “ Nyota, you are troubled.”

 

“ I am, but I do not wish to speak of it.”

 

Both sets of his eyelids blind at her as Spock’s mind lightly combs over her along with his nose at her cheek. “ My brother has upset you. You worry that I cannot protect you.”

 

He tries to review her memories but the recollection of Sybok’s time with her is a haze of light and static to him. She however, shivers and bites fitfully at her lip as the past is perused once more. That psychopath would pay she thought bitterly, glancing away from Spock’s curious eyes.

 

“ Father has called us to sup with him this evening. It would perhaps, dispel your tension if you were to take a leisure bath. Milk, water, chocolate, wine, whatever my human would wish to bathe in she shall have it.” he says rubbing her chin. She chases away the feeling of Sybok’s beard tickling across her cheek and focuses on Spock’s lips when they came down around hers.

 

She doesn’t talk about Sybok to Spock, especially with the memory of him warping as it was, but the event has not gone unnoticed.

 

-----------

 

Nyota’s in her room, soaking in the tub when the hushed footsteps of a female’s feet come to her ears.

 

Her handmaids had been littering her bath water with Vulcan flowers and fruits for the past half hour and she had grown weary of watching them waste all that good food and flowers better left on the vine. The water has since taken on a milky blue color and laps around her breasts and shoulders as she reclines against the heated back of the marble tub. She piles up her hair as she plans to wear it up just to test the waters between Spock and Sybok but the thought of it troubles her. A mild headache has taken up residence within her skull at thinking over what to do with the princes. While her body has relaxed inside the hot comfort of the water, her mind is still filled with anxiety over whether the crown prince would take her just to spite Spock in neglecting him.

 

The same possessive nature that Spock harbors over her seemed to filter through in Sybok’s touch over his brother. She does not nor wants to question their closeness but she fears coming between them.

 

She doesn’t open her eyes until she hears the unfamiliar voice speak over her from above. “ He very much likes you, our Spock and for that, I pity you, Nyota Uhura of Terra.”

 

Nyota sits up with a start and stills at the female before her. T’Pring lowers herself down onto the stool the maids use when washing Nyota’s hair and body and watches her. Her elaborate attire is similar to that of Nyota’s with the exception of the bejeweled diadem and sheer veil gracing the top of her head. Her beautiful face is a mask of indifference, looking over Nyota’s body and the marks upon it that are normally covered by robes through the translucent tinge of the pale blue water. “ You are fetching but you are quite weak as well.”

 

“ I don’t need you telling me about my strengths and weaknesses, your highness.” Nyota spits hastily.

 

Her snappy quips takes both of them by surprise but T’Pring recovers quickly with a retort of her own. “ They will be the end of you if you don’t gain any aid. It is logical to acquire all the knowledge you have been and your intelligence has proven to be sound from what I could glean of the tutors. Your mind, however, remains wholly unguarded and I should help you with that.”

 

“ Should help me?” Nyota asks suspiciously. Nothing of what the princess said is false, even in its typical blunt Vulcan delivery but her motives are not clear. “ Why should you?”

 

“ Spock has come to change from your presence and very much for the better. I would be free of him and you would have a freedom of sorts with a bit more...protection.”

 

Nyota pins her with a look that says she’s unmoved but T’Pring presses on lightly. “ I cannot say more for the walls have ears and the windows eyes and even your mind would lend itself for the princes’ snooping but I could offer you knowledge, a training of sorts, to keep things to yourself you wish to have hidden and discard influence you wish to be free of.”

 

“ How.” Nyota turns, holding at the lip of the tub.

 

“ You would keep him, wouldn’t you? Save me from his attentions during his time when it should come next? Bind him as you will but you would have me free of the mad prince?”

 

Nyota sees the desperation in her eyes and the small movements of her hands as she pulls at the ornate stitching of stars on the dark green field of her gown. She is trapped by obligation to Spock and offers mental training in exchange for her freedom.

 

As it is, Nyota gains nothing but an enemy should she rebuke her but gains an alliance and knowledge that her tutors won’t teach her. Cannot teach her.

She stand from the tub and rings her hair into the water. T’Pring waits patiently for her answer watching her like a hawk as she goes about drying herself and donning her chamber robe.

 

When she extends her hand, the Vulcaness takes a beat to reach hers out to do the same. Shaking hands, Nyota smiles and feels the princess do the same within her mind. “ It is a logical arrangement, if I do say so. Teach me and I shall have you freed by the fortnight’s end.”


And so they begin the start of her lessons before Nyota’s left to get ready for dinner.

Chapter Text

 

Nyota’s mood has brightened immensely since T’Pring’s visit, so much so that she doesn’t notice Spock in her quarters until he spins her around and locks them together with a kiss. Nyota groans in consternation but the longer he sets to molding his mouth against hers, the more readily she grows at matching his movements. It was foul how good he was making her senseless.

 

In a disorienting suddenness, he breaks their kiss and takes in her attire or lack thereof. “ You have still yet to dress.”

 

Nyota shrugs and eyes the empire waisted gowns set out in the wardrobe behind her. “ I took my time with getting ready and still have yet to decide my attire for the evening. I have never dined with your family before.”

 

“ It is a peculiar thing that they should want to sup with us. I do not think my mother enjoys my hedonism of you and my father wishes for me to bear an heir or some such nonsense with T’Pring. Neither one of us favors the other.”

 

“ Is that so?” she says neutrally, looking over her dresses. Given her sheer blush-colored lingerie, Nyota leans towards choosing the golden gown with a modest train. Yonag had littered the back with tiny Orion fire opals and stitched her corset with a tiny assortment of stars. The other gowns are stunning, as well but this one feels like he was making it for her and not to please Spock’s ego.

 

While she inspects the dress Spock hums with Vulcan laughter as he plucks at the fasteners of her stockings. “ It is so, but let us forget about all of them and think on us. I would have you now.” he leans in and whispers against her ear, not unlike Sybok that afternoon.

 

Spock crowds her and tugs at the garter belt at her waist and pushes roughly at the thought of his brother. “ He is nothing short of a jealous gossip, Nyota. Think nothing of his boasting and barking. This prince is the one that has the bite.”

He smooths his hands over her waist and nuzzles his face against her neck. “ He wants you, of course, but why wouldn’t he? You are the jewel of Terra and mine alone. He may take the crown but you, he could only wish to have.”

 

“ I do not take your brother lightly or wish to be troubled with him at all.” she admits leaning back against him. “ He frightens me.”

 

Her heels click loudly against the marble as Spock takes her into his arms and runs his hands over her side and at her breast. “ Neither should you nor Sybok take me lightly. I would have you now and keep you forever. Do not quail at the thought of my brother or lay burdened with fear at your safety. As churlish as you believe me to be, Sybok is that twice over.”

 

Lust fills her as it always does, hot and overbearing but her mind is elsewhere now with doubts over having to dine with his family.

 

Navigating the royal court she finds is not unlike a perilous game of 3D chess. Unwittingly, Nyota had made her way over to the other side and levels of the board and finally had to dance about the king and queen pieces. Nevermind that the rook and the knight were not playing by her rules. If she weren’t careful she’d soon be easily bested by the most simplest of pawns.

 

They say for 3 dimensional chess the game is decided in the first three moves. This evening was to be the third deciding move and she wanted to weigh her options. Should she keep herself evenly-keeled, buoy herself down in deference to what might become her in-laws of sorts, or rise up to the highest board on the set and reveal her value and worth to the royal family and empire?

 

Spock continues to nip at her as she practices musing in the privacy of her mind. So far the techniques which obscure her mind to anything short of a meld seem to be working. Being psi null had its advantages. While the prince could feel her emotions and physical sensations therein, Nyota’s immediate thoughts are hidden within the mantra of her need to get dressed.

 

It will not work for long periods T’Pring had warned her. With the royal family their powers were like none found in the galaxy. Some of their touch telepathy was known but much more was kept secret by them and those who had dared to cross them.

 

Nyota did have a slight advantage though. If they did not know of her lessons and think that she would be employing their use then Nyota had some shelter within herself from the brute princes. She dispels her mantra orally and puts away her thoughts of power, freedom and safety.  “ Leave me to dress and I shall join you shortly.”

 

“ I shall have you now.” he huffs affectionately, peeling off his clothing piece by piece until only his under robe remains. “ I wasn’t done tasting you from this morning…”

 

“ Spock we need to be ready in 20 minutes!” she growls pushing his busy hands away. A problem with sealing herself away was the concentration that was needed in doing so. Do too much physically and her mind would fall open. Do too little and she would draw suspicion. As it was she had allowed Spock to rile himself up into passion, allowing him unhindered access to her scantily clad figure.


“ Dammit, Spock…” she moans and shuts her eyes as his lips mouth softly at her neck. His fingers are busy pulling at her underwear until they find their way inside her, setting her instantly aflame. She moans again, helpless to contain herself as he pushes them both down onto the chaise. There they tumble against each other in a breathy mess of limbs and mouths, tasting and touching against what little resistance Nyota could muster. She could try her hand at emptying her mind of his influence but the way he beholds her is too much to deny herself.

 

From his hand she feels his wonder and want of her; her cool softness and salient taste. The palm pressing at her thigh pulls up at Nyota’s mind, imploring it to join his in a mental embrace. Nyota turns her face willingly to the side for melding but Spock has his hands elsewhere. He slinks down her body until his knees bump against the floor.

 

He hugs her tightly around the waist and sighs against her side. He chuffs quietly and moves his head higher up to finally rest underneath her breast and above her heart. Spock sighs again as her slender hands find his hair and cradle his head against her ribcage. Nyota’s eyes flutter close once more with a mew as his tongue runs over her stomach, into her navel and towards her breasts, chanting her name inside her head.

 

Once again this stubborn, spoiled misfit has reduced her into a squirming mess of neediness. Gone is her concern over Sybok and his need to control them and in its place is a desire to have Spock kiss her as he had that morning. He tugs the cups of her bra to the side and suckles each soft, dusky nipple into a tight bud against his tongue before moving back down towards her stomach.

 

“ I hate how good you are at this.” she scolds him breathlessly.

 

A single chuckling huff escapes his lips and brushes across her hip as Spock makes his way back down her torso. “ Your body says otherwise. Your mind is, however, unwilling to appreciate the skill with which I please you. Just give in to your human predilections and dance on my tongue, hostess.”

 

Nyota tugs at his hair with a quick grin of her own and coos down towards him. “ Dance on your tongue? Human predilections? Your tongue remains loose and foul, you whore and I am hard-pressed to willingly dance upon any part of you.”

 

Spock playfully nips at the skin above her hipbone and grunts at her. “ Are you calling a member of the royal family, a prince no less, a whore?”

 

Nyota gasps in mock horror and throws her arm over her face with an exaggerated motion. “ Oh no! I’ve gone and angered a Vulcan! A royal one no less! Oh, forgive me, sire! I meant no harm! I only mean to speak truth not slander your person, milord! Mercy I pray!” she quails while still tugging at his hair.

 

Spock turns into the arm tugging at his scalp and bites into it until he hears Nyota yelp. Reaching up to caress her mind and cheek, the prince gives her a curious expression. “ If it’s mercy that my human asks for then it is mercy that she shall have. Be still, ashal-veh.”

 

The feeling he runs across her makes the both of them sigh and shut their eyes in revelry. She doesn’t want to dwell on it but it’s the purest, sweetest, most damning emotion she’s ever felt from him or that anyone has inspired in her. They should not entertain it.

 

Spock spares them both of having to examine it and tugs at her thigh and her mind. “ You would make a horrible peasant. Not subdued or demure in the least. I, however, would make a splendid whore. Please do allow me to convince you of this.”

 

“ I am very much convicted in my beliefs of your hedonism, sire. This would only serve to try and convince me otherwise…”

 

“ Very well. Whichever you choose, ashal-veh, makes no difference to me. I am what I am and all of me is yours.” he rasps against her belly.

 

One of his hands has been slowly rubbing at her center through the tulle of her underwear in languid, torturous strokes and now has the gauzy material soaked through. “ I am mad with you and life itself and none can cure me. You are at once my malady and my elixir of salvation so give me this, Nyota. Give me a brief reprieve of you haunting my thoughts and let me devour you once more?”

 

“ You are hopeless.” Nyota sighs, slowly letting her legs fall open. Spock moves into the space she makes and nuzzles his face between her legs as a cat would mark its owner’s leg along with the same, rumbling purr.

 

Her hands find his head again, this time petting anything she can reach of him. Rubbing the tips of his ears, gliding across the sharp ridge of his cheekbone and jawline along with the high sweep of his brow, Nyota is physically reminded that Spock is other . He is Vulcan, for him, his intimacy and nature is at once complex and simple.

 

She is his and he would have her but the intricacies therein are strange and numerous. Everything from the erogenous zone of his hands to the inconceivable intimacy of a mind meld, Spock is a riddle Nyota still finds herself puzzling over.

 

Laughter spills out from Nyota’s lips as Spock’s canines rip into the sheer fabric of her panties. “ You’re horrible! This is why that poor tailor thought to-”

 

“-cheat me? Yes, he thought to but fortunately for him he resumed doing his job.” he grunts framing her quim with his hands with her underwear still in place. Dipping his head low, Spock runs his tongue wetly against her cloth-covered quim and hums as a moan peeps out of her. “ Yes, like that, my heart, my soul. Make your cream and let me taste you.”

 

Nyota bucks her hips against his face and lets her mind wrap around his own as she knits her fingers into the hair along his scalp. “ Mmm, ok 18 minutes or less.”

 

“ Give me ten.” Spock says huskily, rubbing the bulb of his nose against her through her panties.  Her eyes go wide with shock as she huffs up at the ceiling. He pauses briefly after a pointed lick and sniff and hmms disdainfully. “ What is this?

 

Nyota blinks up at the ceiling as she feels him tear her panties in two and lick at her bare quim. Spock rises from her lap with his eyes narrowed and his nose flared. “ Bloody hell…”

 

He dives his face back into her center and growls angrily at her sex. “ How dare they.”

 

She opens her mouth to question him but Spock’s already up on his feet with his open robe flying behind him. He yanks open her chamber door and glares at her lady’s maid with an angry hiss of a order. “ Gather all the maids in your lady’s room. Immediately.”

 

Nyota covers herself with her hands and listens to the clamor of footsteps rapidly approaching her chamber door. Parlour, house and chamber maids all come rushing into her bedroom. Hurried as they were not a one of them looks it, all neatly composed in face and looking crisp in their stiffly starched robes.

 

Spock glowers at them all as they file in, nearly looking as put-off as he had been with Yonag. When he addresses them en masse , his voice is composed. “ What have you done to my human?”

 

The group of them look from one face to another in confusion until her lady’s maid, T’Sel, grows brave enough to address him. “ Sire, forgive my ignorance but I do not know what you mean.”

 

Spock’s face flashes briefly with a look of frustration before smoothing into a disturbingly sombre mask. “ Your lady’s keshtan-ur smells and tastes of fruit oil. Explain to me why.”

 

At this a number of them shift uncomfortably and T’Sel’s eyes blink down to the side. Before she can reply Spock goes off into a very vulgar and very Vulcan tirade. He does not yell but his voice grows harsh where he wishes to emphasis his point.

 

It is suppose to smell like cunt, not apricots or strawberries. Nor should her twat be flavored with cherries. If I wanted to eat cherries, I would bloody well grab a bowl of them instead of feasting between my human’s thighs!” he berates them with his lok swinging heavily between his legs. “ Do you think me hungry when I place my head there? Do you think my madness has spread to amnesia as to where I should get my food?”

 

“ No, sire. Of course not, sire.” T’Sel pales. She tries steadily to meet his eye but he is pacing and his body as it is… is not fit for such a public audience. Many of the maids are blushing and even more of them have their eyes roaming his frame when they think themselves safe enough to steal a glance. T’Sel seems shamed by the lack of decency on both their parts and offers to restore decorum. “ Might this one get a belt for my Lord and a robe for my Lady to cover-”

 

“ I need nothing more than what I have on at the moment. As if this is your first time beholding a lok.” he scoffs at her. “ It’s nothing more than any of you have seen with your own bondmates during their time.”

 

He turns on his heels and snaps at her again. “ I still do not understand why.”

 

T’ Sel brings her sleeves together, no doubt using them as a cover to rub nervously at her hands. “ I meant no offense. I was given orders, my lord.”

 

Spock pauses mid-step and turns back towards her. “ By who? Surely not I? By my Lady then?”

 

T’Sel closes her eyes and swallows quietly before speaking the name. “ By the crown prince Sybok, sire.”

 

Everything in the room goes still as she forages on in her explanation. “ He commanded us to gather desert roses, K’vass and Pre fruit to place in the Lady’s water next she bathed. He also instructed us to oil the Lady’s… privates with extracts and essence of the fruits you named, sire. My Lady ordered just a hot bath drawn but the Crown Prince… I cannot disobey him, sire. Forgive me.”

 

Spock cocks his head to the side and observes her, thinking over her words and his brother’s commands towards Nyota’s maids. “ I see.”

 

He turns towards Nyota, as gently as he could and flipped her onto her front.  Crawling over the top of her back, Spock mouths at her shoulder and marks Nyota before the audience of maids. Nyota hides her face against the cushion with a gasp and digs her nails into the chaise. That needy, possessive Vulcan emotion of devotion rolls over her and has her feeling half out of her mind.

 

Spock hums in satisfaction of her appraisal and lathes slowly against the pink flush of her skin. The crush of his body, his full lips circling the lovebite with feathered kisses and huffy breaths, has her twisting with lust and shame. She didn’t want to present herself this way to the maids or anyone, whimpering and arching her ass up in the air for his erection to find her but when he touched her like this… how could she resist him?

 

Thoughts of the night when Nyota witnessed Chapel being forced down onto the crown prince’s lok in the middle of her performance from the stage pass over her. Spock, for all his depravity, wouldn’t do the same with her to send a message to his brother by word of her maids,... would he?

 

/ I thought you knew me better little one. Of you, I share nothing. If you want me to fuck you in front of them, however.../ he chuckles in her mind and leaves the words hanging within her mind.

 

Spock surprises her though, by holding himself at bay and outside of her. She can feel his frightful desire to fuck her now as he holds her hips. The carnal hunger Spock feels, however, is in the periphery of his need to ravage her. He wishes to possess her as only Vulcan would and can. He is starved for her mind.

 

Spock ignores the hitched breaths of the scandalized maid across the room and draws his hand down towards her face. Nyota licks her lips nervously as he carefully splays each trembling digit across cheek and pants with effort to contain himself. The pressure of his hand is hot and tight against her skin until he pulls at her with that strange tingling sensation. Her skin numbs and teeters on the precipice of feeling extremely hot or extremely cold as Spock burrows his mind inside her head. “ Spock!” she chokes, arching back into him with her eyes screwing up tightly.

 

Nyota can’t be sure of anything now, his need for them as one is too consuming. He searches quickly and quietly for the bondlink between them and huffs loudly as he bumps against it. His control is lost the moment he seizes it. His mind claws at hers and wedges itself inside, turning the thread thin bond between them into a taut, pulsing rope.

 

Nyota cries out into the cushion and trembles beneath him as he... she become one another. She is so soft and cool and his body is firm and impossibly hot; it’s too much to feel them both at once and ,at the same, time not enough.

 

She feels drunken and dazed, as if her body had been rubbed down with orion spice leaving the whole of it numb. Her body no longer feels physically confined to her skin and bones but bigger than herself. Maybe that’s Spock’s emotions that she feels and can’t quite analyze but whatever the Vulcan’s done, the two of them have never been mentally closer. Pulling her into his arms and back along his chest, Spock braces her limp-limbed figure against him and nuzzles her neck as her head lolls to the side. “ Telik ( bonded).” he announces to all present.

 

Nyota blushes fiercely as her maids look on in wide-eyed shock at the bastard prince’s very public display of affection. His lok nestles itself stiffly between her folds, pushing the ruined underwear up against her garter belt as he nuzzles the mark he made with his nose and addresses T’Sel. “  You are forgiven, Lady maid. You may not disobey the Crown Prince. When it comes to she who is mine, I surely will. I will leave you now to dress my Lady. Do not tarry as she wishes not to be late. I shall dress myself.”

 

Nyota swallows at the air as Spock runs his tongue from her shoulder to her neck and across her cheek before ending the wet caress with an open mouth kiss near her mouth. She shudders in his arms and hiccups at the air, trying to conclude whether Spock is either more confusing or maddening. She fears they may be one in the same.

 

She feels dizzy from the wealth of emotion roiling within him as he touches her skin, but feels it dim as she practices her skills, from T’Pring once more. Even then his attraction and attachment to her was deeper and stronger than she once thought.

 

“ I shall dine on you later, dearheart.” He tilts her head up towards his face and places his mouth over hers in a chaste kiss before he places her down on the chaise to retrieve his clothing.

 

As the maids hurry to dress and prep her face and hair for the evening, Nyota closes her eyes as she realizes the rook has stolen her turn to move and come far too close. She miscalculated how far Spock could jump ahead of her. Now she’s bonded to the second prince in line to the throne.

 

Meanwhile, the dark knight, Sybok moves himself to rule over her as much as the empire. Try as she might to protect the king, her heart, she had not counted on the brothers being quite so cunning and clever.

 

Nyota hangs her head, spying Spock watch her in the mirror with a small, possessive smile that raises the hair along the back of her neck.

 

Check

 

Chapter Text

Her nerves ease and her stomach settles as Spock, along with his guards and attendants, escort her to the dining hall. Strong, sheer curtains have been secured between the pillars linking the palace grounds to keep the sand, leaves and other debris free of the hall as the evening wind picks up and pushes against them like a sail.

 

Their clothes for the evening aren’t necessarily complementary but Spock and Nyota were equally resplendent. Draped in matte Vulcan silk, his black robe and her golden gown beg the attention of all who see them.

 

Much of the court has gathered outside to spy the pair, halting their progress as Spock greets and addresses each one accordingly.

 

Nyota thinks he does it on her behalf, feeding the illusion that he’s much more congenial to everyone with her at his side. This would only serve to hoist Nyota even higher in their esteem but ,in the back of her mind, she knows it’s also Spock’s way of putting off having to deal with his family. Some things it seems, no matter your planet, species or station, remain universal.

 

As they get closer to the hall, Nyota can feel Spock’s newborn irritation with his brother’s interest in her itching within her head. He dearly loves his full-blooded sibling in ways she thinks he shouldn’t but it pains him to think of confronting and hurting him. It hurts even more to think that Sybok has more than earned it.

 

From the start of his acquisition of her person, Spock set out to give Nyota an independence of sorts. Unless he called for her attendance, Nyota was left to her own devices, a freedom she greatly relished. If Sybok were to hunt her, as Spock well knows the crown prince would, the young prince would have to cage her once more by keeping her at his side. Neither wants it, but his concern has Nyota both peeved and relieved with appreciation at the thought of it.

 

Once they were through receiving the dukes, viscounts, priestesses and noble cousins, Spock leads her past their banquet dining hall into the chambers of the royal keep. The layout is much the same but the decor and other simple touches have been planned and executed to the nth degree.

 

The room is furnished in blood green marble and set with even darker tiled floors, making the space seem smaller than she knows it to actually be. The carved chairs and settees are heavily laden with plush pillows and throws of various wools. Rugs larger than her room accompany each set of furniture, in rich shades of jewel tones and metallics.

 

Giant bronze vases, bigger than herself, were set in regular intervals along the corridor with sprays of flowers the size of hats and vines perfuming the air. Looking around the strangely verdant room gives Nyota the sense she has been shrunken down to the size of a figurine and placed inside a jungle palace doll house.

 

Breaking with the gaudy display of wealth, the dining area is all composed of wood and dark stones. It is grand while maintaining its sleek zen appearance. It’s simplicity and material call to her in an appeal of the familiar designs back home. In the face of all the rock she has encountered here on Vulcan the wood seemed soft and feminine.

 

Looking over the long linen runner dressing the surface of the wood, Nyota actually finds the thought of sitting at the dining table inviting. That is, until she notes Sybok seated near the head of the table, drinking delicately from a crystal goblet. Damn it all that he was just as beautiful as Spock, if not more mature looking in his face and hair. His features look sharper than Spock’s now that she sees them together once more but his smiling eyes and the vague upward tilt of his lips softens the contrast as he peers into his glass. He’s dressed just as finely as they are, robed in blues, blacks and grays but something about him makes her feel like he’s out of place.

 

He should be out invading some star system or oppressing some planet out in the quadrant, not sitting here at the palace like some well-bred, do-gooder who would mind his manners. As if he knew the first thing about common decency. Nyota purses her lips together and huffs through her nose. The cad.

 

He was right about one thing, the dinner tonight is much too soon for her liking when it came to seeing him again. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near his pampered behind.

 

She curses at her luck under her breath and watches in frustration as one of his eyebrows perk up towards his hairline. Damn those Vulcan ears and their sharp hearing.

 

At the touch of her eyes, his slowly rises up from the contents of his glass to study her. Nyota feels his stare go to the neatly-curled fontange updo she wears, no doubt noting her disobedience of his instruction to wear it down. Covered beneath a thin russet veil, her locks are neatly pinned in front before giving way to an opal and crystalline frelange which binds and supports the rest of her curls.

 

With the exception of a few stray curls her neck and shoulders were left bare to draw attention to the teardrop earrings Spock had placed on her before they left. Unlike all the rest of the jewels on her dress and fragile diadem, these were made from the remaining vokaya stones that Spock hadn’t nestled inside her quim.

 

Sybok swallows thoughtfully at her appearance and rises up as they bow in deference. Begrudgingly, she might add. As she tilts her head she feels the curls move about her face and the whole of her coiffure shift forward under its own weight. When she rises from her curtsy Sybok’s eyes all but drink her in.

 

“ My, my you two look quite charming. Enough of that bowing nonsense, come join me. I do not like to drink alone.”

 

Spock smiles at him despite the prickly burn Nyota feels from where he touches her hand. “ Of course, brother. Nyota, attend me.”

 

Sybok’s eyebrows lift in interest at the statement as he pulls slowly at his neat beard. “ Yes, Nyota, do attend us. I know! Won’t you entertain us with a little song and dance while we wait for father and mother to come?”

 

Spock takes the bottle from in front of Sybok on the table and pours a glass for her and himself as Sybok looks on gleefully. “ She’ll do none of that. She’s no longer a hostess, she’s mine .”

 

Sybok chuckles into his glass and licks his lips free of the wine. “ And what of T’Pring? Is she not yours ?”

 

“ What of her? I did not invite her nor did she seek my invitation. Nyota, drink your glass. You will otherwise find this night to be unbearable.” Spock says gruffly. She sips cautiously as he downs his glass and refills it to drain it once more.

 

Spock huffs at her impatiently as she tries to hurry to do the same. Once she’s nearly done, Spock plucks the glass from her fingers and refills their glasses once more. Nyota bites her lip as the alcohol goes to work on her senses.

 

She did not plan to be drunk this evening, loose lips and looks could cost her dearly as she plots to make herself stronger. If anything, she dreams of toasting herself on her victory over the lot of them in the privacy of her chambers. From the start of the evening ,however, it’s looking more like a fantastic daydream.

 

There’s also Spock to consider. What little control he has over himself is all but diminished when drink inhabits his belly.

 

The darkest parts of him that he bares to the world come out and haunt everyone near him. Their time together on Vulcan has lessened the effects of his drinking but she’s no fool to think him cured or done with liquor.

 

Spock’s sour demeanor does not escape the crown prince’s notice and Sybok visibly cheers at his brother’s irritation. “ Shall I send for another bottle?” he asks tapping the empty one Spock sets back down before him.

 

Spock’s ire flashes brightly between them all at Sybok’s cheekiness and puts Nyota further on edge. Unconsciously she falls back into the role of hostess for the occasion, unable to ignore the tension growing in the room. Before either one can barb the other further, Nyota answers Sybok demurely with a bob of her head. “ No, sire. Do not trouble yourself. Allow me.”

 

She starts to wave for the between maid to fetch another bottle when the female servant’s eyes unfocus their gaze. With an uneven gait she jerks away towards the kitchen and hurries back out with two bottles.

 

Nyota tilts her head and eyes the female as she prepares the vintage bottles of armagnac and K’vass for drinking when Sybok answers her unspoken question. “ She, along with a good many others, is bonded to me. I shouldn’t have to speak aloud or reprimand the help when I can command and punish all or one with my mind. Has my Spock not seen to doing the same with you, little human? You certainly could be taken down a peg or ten...”

 

Spock scoffs as he brings the glass back to his lips and eyes Sybok darkly. “ Ours is a mating bond, not one of servant and master.”

 

Sybok hums in contemplation as he rolls the stem of his goblet between his thumb and forefinger. “ So you have not mastered and broken her then? Is that why she is so defiant? Does she see herself as an equal to you because of the weak, fledgling bond you blessed her with? Though I will admit conversing with her is an absolute delight. Cheeky, little she-devil. He probably has yet to tup you in your rear.”

 

Nyota nearly gags on her drink as Sybok smirks at her blush. “ Oh? He hasn’t then? Well, let me tell you-”

 

“ Where are mother and father?” Spock asks, sighing dourly. He cuts his eyes at the maid and once again the maid moves zombified, as if pulled by a string at her sternum. It’s at that moment that Nyota knows that Spock has similar bonds with the servants as well.

 

It’s a chilling thought. All the human bonds of friendship she forged would mean nothing in light of the Vulcan ones of servitude. If they were called to act against her, even the most loyal like T’Sel, her lady maid, would be compelled to act in favor of her true masters. And who knows what the princes would seek to glean from their minds.

 

Perhaps it’s how Sybok was first able to gain her whereabouts when he found her in the garden and how his attends silently dismissed themselves from his side? The more she absorbs the revelation the more it troubles her mind as to what it would mean for her future and her safety.

 

Nyota quickly slips the last of her wine down her throat and extends the goblet towards Spock, who fills it sympathetically. She nods her thanks as she goes back to nursing her drink. As much as it pains her to admit it, Spock is right. She is going to need something stiff to drink for the evening if she is going to encounter more surprises like this.

The deep bass of Sybok’s voice stirs her away from musing over the odd tea like flavor of the armagnac as he answers Spock’s earlier inquiry. “ They’re on their way. You know father. Surprised he didn’t summon us to help prolong the misery of his reign.”

 

The casual statement of the crown prince’s morbid disdain of his father catches Nyota so off guard that he’s able to catch her look of disbelief before she can smooth her face.

 

A feral grin spreads across Sybok’s lips at her reaction as he scoffs at Nyota through his open mouth. “ Don’t act as if I wish him dead, Nyota-kam. I’m just next in line and he’s purposefully in my way. I have plans for the Empire, none of which include my father or his existence… simple really.”

 

“ Ever sentimental.” Spock quips, staring at his father’s empty chair. Sybok watches them as they finally take their seat after bowing and retrieving their drinks, with a wicked glint in his eyes. As Nyota looks up from taking her seat, Sybok’s eyes focus in on her hair. Whether he likes it or is peeved with her disobedience she can’t tell but he definitely noted that she chose to have it up. Opposite of what he asked her to do.

 

She slides her eyes away from his face to the chairs about the table. From the arrangement, it looked as if Emperor Sarek would take the head, with Sybok and Queen Amanda at either side. And while it made the most sense for conversation and serving the food to have Nyota seated across from Spock, he did not want to give his brother the pleasure or power of sitting beside her.

 

After taking her seat down near the end, Spock takes her hand inside his own and holds his goblet in the other. The sensation of his growing inebriation rubs alongside her own, not unlike the soothing embrace of her bath earlier in the day as it warms and lulls her. Coupled with the alien heat and gravity, the feeling tires Nyota but a fair trade for feeling much more at ease, in her opinion.

 

The armagnac does its work, weaving a web of lost inhibitions as she looks about the room. It’s the most grand place she’s ever been in, more refine and resplendent than any music hall she’s performed in and she now resides in the building that houses this room. She, an alien, lives here.

 

She smiles with a delicate and adorable snort. What had fate been thinking to put her ,of all people, here?

 

Mulling over her current situation amuses her to no end. Here she was on Vulcan, in the heart of the palace, about to dine with the royal family. From Spock’s declaration about their bond, Nyota was practically engaged to him. A prince! All because he couldn’t keep his enormous cock to himself and went and fell in love with her! With a human hostess!

 

Laughter bubbles up within her thoughts as she reviews the whole of her life. The whole thing is as ridiculous as it is amusing. How would one ever think that she could rise to such heights from such womanly arts?

 

As much as her intelligence, hard work and natural talent have enthralled Spock and the court, her dainty quim has enslaved him and possibly the fate of the empire. What if she actually became queen?!

 

Nyota bites her lip to stifle her laughter and muses over the primitive urges the Vulcan royals are no more free from than any other being in the universe. It wouldn’t be too long before they became like those mind lord generals she reads about in her lessons, ravaging the countryside as they sit astride their war sehlats and using their psionic powers to boil the blood of warriors or turn soldiers against themselves.

 

She sips and watches Spock as the brothers engage in conversation. Her drunken mind ponders over who he would favor in history. Probably Master Haddok.

 

Haddok, in addition to founding the P’Jem sanctuary for all practitioners of Surak’s teaching to pilgrimage, was one of Vulcan’s first interplanetary warlords as he seized control over Andoria. His conquest of the icy desert world was not widely celebrated like that of Betazed or revered like that of the Rigellian or Kro’nos systems, but he spread the teaching of their Godhead like figure throughout the alpha quadrant.

 

As unstable as he was, Spock regularly meditated. If Nyota were nearby he would oftentimes draw her into a meld and practice calming both their minds. The first time he did so it was like imagining a fabled wizard quieting a tempest. At one moment she was worried and weary of his attentions and the land she had awakened to and the next she was as contented as a cow in the pasture.

 

Her eyes slink over to Sybok’s handsome bearded face and she immediately knows he would be like Char the Brave. One of the more recognizable warriors hailing from Xar’kol; he was also one of the more unpredictable and cruel of the bunch.

 

Char put a number of his enemies to the blade, or his mind’s hold, and gave mercy out seemingly at random. It was also rumored that he ate the generals that be bested, bred a number of the soldiers’ wives and that 1 in 200 men are direct descendents of his deeds. Egotistical as he is, Sybok fits perfectly into her fantasy of the psychotic, meat-eating marauder. If only he had his beard laced through with golden hoops and blood in place of wine in his goblet then her image of the ancient Brave of T’Khut would be realized.

 

“ What will we be dining on tonight then, Sybok the Brave? Selhat hearts? Jarel gonads?” she jokes beneath her breath still lost to her daydreaming. All too soon does she realize that they had stopped talking at the sound of her voice and were listening to her jesting. Nyota flushes and tries to bow her face away from their prying eyes.

 

Damned Vulcan ears. Spock and Sybok each look at her, void of expression as she seeks to do the same. Spock reclaims her hand after abandoning it earlier to converse with his brother and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He is not angry, merely curious over her inquiry over flesh.

 

The Crown Prince, however, huffs while eyeing her darkly. His fingers close around the stem of his wine glass as he studies her blushing face further. “ Is that what my brother’s tartlette wants? Raw organs?”

 

“ No, your royal highness. I beg your pardon. I was merely trying to lighten the mood. Old habit, your majesties.” she replies quickly under the strength of his stare. Spock was always amused by her frankness but now she fears having a hard lesson delivered by the Crown Prince himself.

 

Not all Vulcans find entertainment in free and wild things. More often than not, Vulcans are more pleased in seeing that free spirit snuffed out.

 

Nyota feels Spock stir in the seat next to her before the heat of his hand that was around her own settles possessively on the back of her neck. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye but Spock’s gaze is locked on his brother from across the table.

 

“ No offense where none is taken, Nyota. My brother, for all his affection for humans and hostesses, still does not understand them.” Spock offers softly, soothing his fingers along her nape. The feather light touch of them has Nyota’s center clenching around the orb he placed inside of her earlier.

 

Much to her surprise, the sensation of doing so is just as pleasurable as it was that morning, making her fidget in her seat with her breathing stilted as the smooth jewel bobs up with the contraction of her muscles. Spock doesn’t move his eyes but regards her within the fledgling bond between them knowingly.

 

/ It won’t be long before I replace your gift with my lok, little lover. And if you are especially good this evening, I will put it back in place with my mouth as I did this morning. / he promises.

 

Nyota drags her attention away from his face, licking her lips with a tongue that is suddenly dry. She tries not to think about the promise her Vulcan leaves within her mind but this morning’s gift exchange is still fresh in her memory.

 

Sybok smiles at them with an expression that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, ignorant of all that passes between the pair as he watches them. “ Yes, of course, brother, none is taken. We’re all logical beings here, I was simply going along with your pleasuremate’s jesting. You’ll forgive me I hope? The mechanics of Terran humor oftentimes escapes me.”

 

The elder brother raises his glass to his lips and pauses midway to add on. “ One day, I will have to pick that dainty little brain of yours and see the contents for myself. Who knows what other pretty little gems I would find bobbing about inside of you?”

 

She flushes hotly at the memory of his mind coercing hers into climaxing around the vokaya gem while pressed flush up against him. His eyes flicker down to her lap and back up to her eyes as he appears to recall the same. Smug bastard.

 

Spock’s hand tightens around her along with his stare towards Sybok and when he speaks it is barely above growl it’s so deep and feral. “ Now, now, brother. There’ll be none of that. This one here is mine. All of her.”

 

“ Yes, yes, you keep reminding me. However…, if she were given the blessing of my company, I’m sure I could not only have her taken in hand but happily so.” he challenges, finally bringing the glass to his lips to take a slow sip.

 

Spock’s nose wrinkles along the bridge with his nostrils flaring momentarily before it returns to the smoothness the rest of his face takes on. “ Would that she could, Sybok, but this human has little interest in any Vulcan. She finds us both vaguely attractive in an alien way but only holds the slightest sense of affection and loyalty for me.”

 

Nyota is awash with anger and fear as she listens to Spock but what troubles her most, is the uncertainty of its source. No doubt Spock was livid as he slings back his spice wine with more force and speed than necessary but is he also afraid of his brother’s thinly-veiled threat to make off with her? And his anger, is he upset with her assessment of Sybok’s aesthetics? Oh God, did he ‘hear’ her think it?

 

“ Only a vague attraction, Nyota? I’m hurt.” Sybok sighs with sad eyes. He hums at her thoughtfully and taps his tongue against the cupid’s bow of his lip.

 

“ Love and loyalty, hmm? What would I do, Spock-kam, with such things when I have her fear and ‘vague attraction’ as you put it. Though she does not seem that fearful at the moment… tell me, Nyota , does it please my brother to have your hair up as you have it now or are you looking for another mark around that pretty little neck of yours…?”

 

Nyota bites the inside of her cheek to quell her fright as Spock laughs at him darkly. “ Perhaps I should mark your neck, brother? It would give others fair warning to the bitch that you are.”

 

Sybok rises from his chair and hisses between his teeth as he continues to smile at them. “ I welcome it, Spock. Just as I welcome Nyota to watch me mark you back before I make off with your favorite toy. Hopefully she won’t get broken when I play with her .”

 

Spock growls lowly and Sybok jerks his head back with a snarling huff. A moment later Spock stands and gasps with his lips curling back into an angry groan. Nyota stares at them both as they glare at each other and twitch minutely in pain before it occurs to her that they’re using their minds against one another. A minute nearly passes and they’re still at it.

 

Spock now has a nose bleed and a curious bruise marring his cheek while Sybok’s left eye has broken a vein and sports a green smudge in the bloodshot field of it. Nyota looks between them nervously, struck dumb as to what she should do when they drop heavily to the floor like ragdolls.

 

She stands with a gasp looking over both before a deep, smoky voice draws her attention. “ You will forgive them for fighting at the table. Neither of them has any manners when left alone.”

 

Nyota’s eyes blink wider as she dips her body into a full curtsey. “ Your Majesties.”

 

Emperor Sarek looks her over as he escorts Amanda with a gesture she often sees in court. Just as she had witnessed him at her funeral, the galactic overlord is dressed in the most elaborate robe she’s ever seen.

 

The dark bronze of the silk shifts like water around him as he walks further into the room. The chasuble is different than the one she saw before, tiled with giant red gems that seem to glow from within as they sit neatly within the woven gold cloth. Along his left breast is the name of their house and clan, as if someone would forget it. One of her earliest memories was of learning about the noble and heroic house of Surak and all its descendants. There was a time when she knew more of Spock’s family than she did her own.

 

Though his tan face evinces nothing the prince’s father seems amused and tired by the whole affair. “ You’ve certainly caused quite a stir.” he drawls, giving her a pointed look. Even as gentle as it was Nyota felt pinned in place. Vulcans were only touch telepaths, right? She swallows nervously and bows her head in reply.

 

Amanda smiles for him and scoffs through her nose as she spies the two males on the floor. “ I would certainly say so. Please do take a seat child. They won’t be out long. Sarek regularly has to break them up but I suppose it’s shocking to witness such a display for the first time.”

 

“ Yes, your highness.” Nyota gingerly navigates around Spock’s leg as she takes her chair once more. She licks her lips and swallows nervously as the Emperor and his consort continue to look her over. Decorum would dictate that she not speak to them unless spoken to, but she worries over it as the silence stretches between them.

 

As they wait, Nyota studies Amanda from the reflection of her water glass. She doesn’t know what surprises her more, the length of her hair as it nearly brushes the ground or the darkness of its rich, auburn brown. She knows Spock to be older than herself and for the life of her can’t remember his birth year but Amanda is a perplexing contradiction of youth and maturity.

 

Clear, white eyes accompany her crow’s feet, not a single gray hair lines her head and her skin, tight with the exception of an errant wrinkle, is smooth and taut. How young was she when Sarek married her; and how was it that she seemed so youthful?

 

Sybok’s eyelashes fluttering open from underneath the table draws her attention away from the Queen mother along with Spock beginning to stir into consciousness in the back of her mind. Sybok stares at her hungrily before rising up from the floor with more composure than one should have after passing out on the floor and resumes sitting in his seat. He glances over towards Queen Amanda and gives her a warm nod of affection. “ Your Grace.”

 

Towards his father the Crown Prince levels a somewhat venomous stare and bows his head as well. “ Father. That was quite the salutation you gave me and brother. Give me fair warning next time so I don’t bang my head against the tile…”

 

Sarek purses his lips at him and looks, for all the world, as if he would kill to roll his eyes at him. Logic holds his rich, brown eyes in place however as he stares after the glasses the maids are filling.

 

“ I would toast to there never being a next time but my sons, for all their gifts and talents, are illogically stubborn and prone to fits of violence. I won’t have you two boiling each other alive and embarrassing me in front of my wife or Spock’s… lovely friend.” he says finally, retrieving his glass after handing Amanda hers.

 

Nyota feels her shoulders release some of the built-up tension from the silence at the title the emperor gives her. Spock’s lovely friend. She can be that, has been that, she thinks.

 

Spock rises from the floor with no words for anyone as he takes his seat once more. A small gash lines his temple from his impact with the floor and is an angry green on the pale olive of his skin. In her mind, Nyota feels nothing from him but his presence and it worries her. What was he thinking?

 

Against her better judgement she dabs her napkin into the glass of water at the table and holds it to his wound. Spock doesn’t react physically but in her mind surprise followed closely by a somewhat puzzled thanks. He didn’t think that she would have been so bold or as caring to dote on him as she has only performed in private. That Nyota does so of her on volition confuses him.

 

Spock tries to accept her kindness but has a hard time getting past the concept of her wanting to care for him because she actually does. He is who he is and he has been none too considerate of her. At least that’s what he’s surmised from her curses when he does as he likes with her when and wherever.

 

Her unexpected sentiment further embrasses the young prince as she wipes the trickle of blood free from his nose and fulcrum after his mental tussle with Sybok.

 

His mother gives him a disappointed tilt of her brow as Sarek watches the waitstaff file in and start their dinner service. “ Spock nice of you to join us. Please introduce your companion. We were not formally met during her… funeral.”

 

Spock nods his head slightly and turns towards his father. He does not meet his eyes but gives him his full attention. “ Nyota Samara Uhura of Mombasa of the United Nations of Africa, daughter of Upenda Uhura, principal dancer of the Royal Terran Ballet, soloist of the Royal Terran choir, master hostess artisan and she who is mine.”

 

Amanda lifts her brow higher and higher as he lists of her titles while Sarek blinks mildly. “ Quite accomplished for someone so young.”

 

“ And so human.” Sybok adds in agreement. He flashes a quick smirk in her direction as the waiters place their plomeek soup down on the metal chargers in unison, no doubt trying to barb her. “ Spock, you forgot to add royal courtesan and master swear-smith. I’ve heard her practicing both talents when I’ve passed by your halls.”

 

Oh yes, very much trying to barb her.

 

“ Enough of that.” Amanda scowls at him, before lifting her soup spoon. “ Foul wretch.”

 

“ Why, thank you, Queen mother.” Sybok winks and goes after the first course as well.

 

Spock picks up his spoon from the linen table cloth but holds it in hand as he tilts his head thoughtfully. “ I did not add them because she is not to be had by others, therefore she cannot be considered a courtesan. She is, however, impossible foul-mouthed.”

 

“ Spock!” Nyota hisses under her breath with a fierce frown. Sybok hums happily and tilts his chin towards her. “ I think we’re about to get a private showing of the swearsmith at work. Come now don’t be shy , Nyota-kam. Let me have it.”

 

Sarek pauses his spoon midway to his mouth and blinks his eyes over at his eldest son. “ Sybok, must I render you silent for the evening to have peace in my house? Observe silence during the meal until everyone has paused in eating. It is our way, in case you’ve forgotten.”

 

Sybok huffs at his fun being spoiled but obeys the Emperor by training his spoon into his mouth. Nyota sighs softly and thanks Surak for the quiet that’s fallen over them. Spock is livid though.

 

She steals glances of Spock beneath her lashes noting how stiffly he spoons his soup into his mouth. She never knew someone could eat so angrily but, then again, not everyone has to dine with Sybok…

 

When Nyota looks at Spock again he’s openly staring at her with a warmth in the dark brown of his eyes. Clasping her fingers underneath the table he speaks to her once more. / My mother has requested I remain as composed as possible for the sake of my father’s health. As much as I would entertain pummeling my fist into my brother’s face for his insults against you, I do not wish to give him the satisfaction of becoming Emperor any sooner than he has to be./

 

Nyota swallows down the soup in her mouth and smiles at Spock’s returning humor. She can now feel that his earlier fright was not of being overtaken by Sybok but having his hand forced to kill him. The realization of what she meant to him, hit him the moment his brother threatened to take her and the suddenness of the epiphany had him reeling with unprocessed emotions.

 

He loved her as a trinket, a pretty little tupping ewe with a foul temper and sweet center but it had evolved and grown and become something more than he knew it could be. He did not want to live without her, did not wish to ever have her subjected to another’s hand and would not give her, even if it meant Sybok’s death at his hands.

 

Nyota is, for all intents and purposes, his wife and Spock… loves it, nearly as much as he adores her. His awareness of this new affinity has the bastard prince feeling lost.

 

What does it mean then? What should he do? How to protect her? What does she need from him to love him back? Does she love him back? Sybok… she’s attracted to him and he would, no, no, will steal her away from him.

The crown prince would hurt her… or would he? Maybe he would woo Nyota to wound Spock. Could she fall in love with Sybok instead of him? Would his brother give her something that he wasn’t able to? Something that was necessary that he, as a Vulcan hybrid, was lacking in him? Would Nyota ever feel the human variant of engulfment he felt for her? Could she ever love him back?

 

Spock’s mind is a whirling mess of questions that batter at what little emotion he is able to discern within himself. Nyota baffles him but she’s the greatest enigma he’s ever come across. Confronted with his need for her, he struggles now to find a way to have a person who is complete within themselves need or even want him. It’s a depressing venture to mull over as he finishes his soup.

 

The sullen tilt of his brow actually produces pity in her. Nyota watches his face as the waitstaff brings in the next course. It’s one of her favorites, balk’ra, a mixof sauteed vegetables that were then baked in the gooey, egg-like pulp of the cave fori pods to make a delicate but deliciously filling casserole. Spock stares at his serving as if it’s grown a head and shuffles around his fork absently.

 

Nyota plays with the edge of her slice, as well, and nibbles her bottom lip. For once it’s not the strange moldy look of the food that quells her hunger but her guilt and anger over Spock’s dilemma.

 

The poor deranged creature was literally struggling to understand what was love and how to encourage and express it. Everything up until Spock had met her, had been neatly dismissed or tucked away with logic or a brief submersion of passion. It had been relatively easy as he had never been struck with romantic love.

 

From what she felt from his fingers, he has been largely aromantic most his life. The closest he came to any semblance of a relationship had been with T’Pring and, with that, he had been bonded to her by rites and duty. Lovely as she was, the Vulcaness did not kindle any sort of need or yearning within him for a relationship. If anything his early bonding had led to his miseducation about what romantic affection was.

 

Love was not logical but yet struck most in frequent regularity. The term engulfment did not just manifest itself from Vulcan’s thin air. Though not necessary for reproduction, an emotional and mental attachment to one’s mate did make the success of the biological compulsion statistically more sound.

 

At least that’s what Nyota thinks a Vulcan would say about them. She would just say Spock has been raised up in a culture which doesn’t entertain the witless constraints emotions would place on your actions but… Vulcans aren’t so high that they don’t feel or fall prey to reacting emotionally. Certainly thinking of her as his… wife would fall under such foolishness.

 

Nyota chances a glance over in the Emperor’s direction and catches him cradling his wife’s hand inside his own with a look that makes her long for Spock to gaze at her the same way. Not that he should. Not that she should ever want him to.

 

Surely the Emperor knows the thrall his son is under, what with him having a human as his bondmate. Sybok would have been no help to the halfling whelp as he came up in years. He probably told his younger brother that anyone who wasn’t them was a plaything and, as a rule of reason, you can’t carry on a romantic relationship with a sub-Vulcan thing.

 

“ Ms. Uhura, tell us what you think of Vulcan and your stay here at the palace.”

 

Nyota looks up to find Amanda looking at her warmly while the other three at the table just study her face.

 

Nyota swallows her food and proceeds to inform them all of her time and the details therein. She doesn’t linger and gets to the heart of observations, watching as they politely nod at the right times.

 

The next course of their meal relieves her from having to speak and they take the next three dishes in comfortable silence. As she spoons into her dessert Nyota can’t help but feel that even though they’re verbal quiet, that they’re are still conversations going on.

There have been a few times that she’s caught Spock or Amanda giving each other long, lingering looks or exasperated glares at Sybok’s lazy gaze. Perhaps the bonds between them utilize such communication? She hasn’t thought to test the bond between her and Spock in such a fashion. In truth, she tried to put his claim of half ass’ed marriage to the side for the moment until she could better analyze how she felt and what all the bond entailed. To get that kind of information she’d need the help of T’Sel...or perhaps, T’Pring.

 

When Nyota looks up again she’s surprised to find that she the only one still nibbling over her dessert. She drops her fork and clears her throat with a slight smile. “ My apologies.”

 

“ No one needs to apologize for enjoying themselves.” Amanda says, with a small shake of her head.

 

“ I’m most glad to hear that.” Sybok says evenly giving Spock and Nyota a quick, mischievous smile.

 

Amanda huffs and levels a hard glare at Sybok’s smug face. “ All but you, Sybok.”

 

The crown prince’s eyes take on a sad reprise. “ There you go excluding me from the fun again, mother. Don’t you love me?”

 

“ Do you love anyone Sybok?” she snaps back at him, with a signature Vulcan brow lift.

 

“ I love Spock. I love father. And the crown. I’m quite fond of you. I think I feel something for Spock’s ‘lovely friend’ too I just don’t know exactly what. Which reminds me father, you have yet to name me Emperor because I’ve yet to take on a new bondmate. I think Spock’s plaything would do quite nicely.”

 

Nyota feels her stomach drop and her face freeze at his words. Sybok?

 

The clatter of china and silverware comes to a standstill as Sarek turns his gaze to his eldest son. Neatly dabbing a napkin against his lips, Sarek blinks at him and answers him evenly. “ She is spoken for.”

 

“ She is human and I am a Vulcan prince, father, just like you and the queen mother. It’s simple enough. I ask for her. Grant me possession of her and I shall do as you bid.” he hisses through his teeth.

 

Nyota glances frantically between the two and then to where Spock is sitting mutely beside her. Why doesn’t he say something?! Sensing her panic, Spock takes her hand and shocks her. He’s calm?! Giddy even. What the literally hell!

 

Nyota fumes at all of them, not sure of who she’s more pissed with when Sybok chokes and sputters. She watches the crown prince’s face pale then blush bright green as he trembles in his seat.

 

“ You insolent fop. Entitled trollop. Is that what you think? That I won’t give you the crown because you do not have a new bondmate after you mauled the other?” Sarek asks in a tone that chills her. Sarek narrows his eyes and Sybok’s head jerks back with a wheezing hiccup. “ Father…”

 

“ You embarrass me, Sybok, that is why you do not have the crown. Outside of attending your duties, you take nothing but torture seriously. If you’re not oppressing some creature you’re tupping them or letting them sodomize you as if your debauched behavior doesn’t offend me. You carry on however you like, just as a kanlar would and that is why you do not wear the crown because a  child...Can. Not. Rule…”

 

Sybok’s head flails down against the table with a sickening thud and back up against the chair as his back arches painfully into a bow. “ Father, mercy…”

 

Sarek stares dourly at Sybok’s contorted face and sighs. “ Very well. Those that are shown great mercy should give great mercy as well. The hostess is Spock’s and no others. If Ms. Uhura is truly, she who is Spock’s, the crown respects the bond and will uphold it.”

 

“ We are one.” Spock confirms lightly with a minuscule smile at the corner of his lips.

 

Sarek nods at Spock in understanding and goes back to glaring at Sybok. “ That’s settled then. A claim is already over the hostess Uhura and is noted by the crown. This cannot be revoked. They are telik. It is our way.”

 

Sybok growls within their minds, into Nyota through Spock, as Sarek finishes. His mouth remains shut but he screams at the lot of them.

 

/ Fuck our ways! Give her to me!/ A strange wave falls over her and Nyota feels her body leaning forward and tilting in Sybok’s direction. She blinks at him in a daze and sighs wantonly at the crown prince's face. Yes...why not go to him...he wants her...and he feels...felt good to her...what harm could be done if-

 

Spock snaps her up within the bond and reins in her mind’s wandering. Nyota shivers physically and blinks rapidly up towards his face. “ Spock?”

 

/ My brother’s psi energy was calling to you through the bond I share with him. I will be vigilant that he does not try and enthrall you as he attempted to now. His powers of suggestion are quite powerful, however-/

 

Sarek scoffs and Sybok’s body jerks once again into a contortion that is none too comfortable. / You do not want her Sybok; you want what you can not have. Whether it’s because she takes away attention from you, makes your brother contented and peaceful or that you want to subject her to your lunacy, I know not. What I do know is that you are an absolutely spoiled gadabout. If only your mother had lived longer-/

 

Sybok gurgles aloud and weeps within. / You will not speak of her! Take her name out of your mouth and let her rest./

 

Nyota looks over to Spock for clarification and he tightens his hold of her fingers. Her mind once clear is filled with a vignette of memories that are neither her’s or Spock’s.

 

Sarek is young, bonded to a young priestess, a favorable match, pregnancy, a boy, most fortunate, the babe is born, Sybok the first of his name, she rests after but does not recover, she ails, her ka’tra passes, sadness, Sybok is neglected by Sarek in his grief, resentment, rage, indifference...

 

Nyota comes to herself wet with tears and schools herself back into serenity. Not soon enough that Sybok doesn’t notice her expression or guess their exchange. If his hungry eyes bother her, his mourning eyes haunt her. His wickedness is not excused but now understood. Nyota squeezes Spock’s hand and releases her hold of him. She doesn’t know if she’s happier for the knowledge or more troubled by it.

 

Sarek sighs wearily and rises from his chair. A few moments after Sybok gasps at the air and sways heavily above the table as his father releases his hold over him. “ I shall retire for the night. Nyota, I welcome you and shall oversee your kal-i-fee to my son, Spock, in the near future.”

 

He raises his arm and gives a muffled, wet cough into the sleeve of his robe. The empress runs her hand over his back as he does, shushing him gently as he screws his eyes up after a particularly forceful exhale. He catches his breath and composes himself once more to continue on.

 

“ You shall bear an heir and attend to any duties I, the Queen mother Amanda or your bondmate give you. If Sybok should prove unworthy or unwilling to do what is necessary for the crown you may soon find yourselves in our place. With that aside, I do hope to see you perform for the court. I am quite fond of Terra song and dance.” he finishes quietly.

 

Nyota bows her head and favors him with a small smile. “ All would be an honor sire. I bid you goodnight.”

 

Sarek blinks and tilts his head in a slow, measured nod. He starts towards the door with Queen Amanda supporting some of his weight as they amble across the room. Amanda’s gait is not a sure and swift as it was when she arrived, encumbered now by her husband’s heavy arm but it’s still a good deal smoother than Nyota thought it should be if she was in her late middle age years. Was there something to her good health?

 

Spock rises from his chair along with Sybok and Nyota follows suit as they bow out gracefully and dismiss themselves from the presence of Sarek. Once he’s around the corner, Spock turns to his brother and holds up two fingers for Nyota to attend him. She does so timidly, trying hard to avoid both of their gazes.

 

The touch of Spock’s fingers is electrifying and comforting, holding the same reassurance as an embrace of arms or a nuzzling of cheeks. Her bondmate glowers at his brother before allowing his face to shift into a sneer. “ I shall see you on the morrow. I have to attend to my mate and the duties therein. Planning our wedding will be no simple task.”

 

“ I am sure.” Sybok blinks at him darkly. Nyota feels his eyes dart towards her face but Spock’s growl has them both snapping to attention.

 

“ I have never thought to underestimate you, Sybok.” Spock starts. “ But if you ever try and take my human wife from me again...there will not be a second chance for you to do so.”


Sybok curls his mouth into a frightening smile before pouting at the both of them. “ I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, Spock-kam. Sleep tight, you two. Don’t let me bite.”

Chapter Text

“ Why doesn’t Sybok have a bondmate?”

 

T’Pring looks up from the script she’s transcribing over to where Nyota is untying her pointe shoes on the empty studio floor. Nyota catches the confused look in her eyes as she follows the path of the ribbon wrapped about her calves. It’s not clear if the small expression is aimed towards her footwear or the question she posed but the Vulcaness answers her all the same.

 

“ Your question is too vague to answer accurately.” she replies, turning back to her calligraphy. “ He is largely unbonded because he wishes to be, I would speculate. What is it truly you wish to know about the crown prince?”

 

Nyota winces as she pulls her foot free of the shoe’s hold. Blood and bruises run along the nails of her toes despite her attempts to take her practice easy. Performing on Vulcan and other planets was no small feat. If she had known the Emperor would have summoned her to dance she would have been practicing her whole life for it but instead she made due with dry run of an ancient ballet.

 

Nyota hisses quietly as she gently rubs along the arch. Weeks without practicing in the ‘illogical’ footwear, due to the higher gravity doesn’t alleviate the pain and suffering of wearing them now. T’Pring watches with unblinking eyes as Nyota wads cotton along the raw areas after swabbing them lightly and secures the pieces with med tape.

 

T’Pring lowers her brush to the table and looks her over as Nyota nurses her other foot. “ Perhaps it would be prudent for you to delay or cancel your performance this evening.”

 

Nyota scoffs in humor and shrugs on a pair socks to hold her bandages in place. “ Please do tell me how one says no to the Emperor? Besides this is nothing. I’ve had to perform in far worse condition.”

 

“ Like after your first night with your beloved?” T’Pring queries taking back up her brush and dipping in the odd funnel-shaped inkwell.

 

Nyota stares back at the Vulcaness from over her shoulder but she can’t glean what was meant, if anything, from the suggestion. The two females had grown quite close over the course of their lessons and from that time spent together the Vulcaness to be resentful of her.

 

In an odd twist of serendipity, they found a friend in one another as they worked to navigate the world of the royals. As flat and dry as she delivers her statements, Uhura knows the princess’s tone is far from venomous; just very Vulcan.

 

There’s also the fact that Spock is far from T’Pring’s favor to consider. Curious that she should bring up such a frightfully sensitive subject. It’s not anything Nyota likes to dwell on or leave to introspection. Not now, not yet and if she can get away with it not ever.

 

Nyota rises from the floor and stretches with her head falling back and her arms up overhead towards the vaulted tiled ceiling above. “ Yes, you could say that I suppose. Dancing the day after was trying.”

 

“ When he called me through the bond in his time...to lay with him I felt nothing in his touch. No reason, no logic, no emotions...nothing.”

 

Nyota straightens up and pauses in her stretching to listen to T’Pring’s wavering voice. “ It was like lying beneath a machine...Spock was just operating based off his biology. He did not burn for me, he merely burned. He felt nothing for me. He was worse than an animal.” T’Pring says bitterly. Nyota hums in genuine sympathy and fiddles with tie of her thin blue wrap skirted about her waist.

 

She know how hard the words must be to admit aloud, the offense the Vulcaness must wrestle with to tell another of the trespasses made against her. Giving her a nod of encouragement, T’Pring goes on.

 

T’Pring rolls her lips together with her focus lost to the spiralling script below her. “ Animals have feelings or whatever one would call through comparative emotions but with the prince...I have often wondered if he ever had any at all...”

 

If she were human Nyota reckons she might have cried then, being as candid as she was but T’Pring was a logical Vulcan first and foremost. The most she emoted was a forlorn tilt to her brow as turned her gaze up and away from the scroll to look at her eyes.

 

“ I apologize...if being with the prince is like that for you.” the princess slips out quickly with a slight green blush to her cheeks. “ I have welcomed harm upon you by seeking to preserve myself. I was ashamed of it...even moreso now. Forgive this one.”

 

Ah, there is , Nyota thinks, sighing to herself with a smile, T’Pring feels guilty . Her relief had been obvious during Nyota’s acceptance at her bargain but as they continued to train her mind, they had grown closer to one another. In that time, the danger posed against Nyota with bartering off Spock onto her must have driven T’Pring to quietly confess her sin.

 

Nyota gives the princess a noise of amusement and shrugs her shoulders. “ Nothing to apologize for, really. No one can control him, even himself most times. I’ll thank you all the same.”

 

The furrow in T’Pring’s brows deepen as she tries to reason her response. In reflection, Nyota does suppose her humanity is baffling. Why wouldn’t she be offended by someone knowingly trading her to a mentally ill character?

 

She would be lying though if she thought she could ever willingly rid herself of the bastard prince. Coarse and cruel as he is, Spock...she couldn’t bring herself to kill him. He said she could so and it’s no doubt that others benefit of his demise but...he...they...were something more now. He had been changing and she had been...cross with herself. Mostly with her feelings and secondly with her inaction. Did she really wish to be free or did her heart desire something more now?

 

T’Pring is still watching her curiously and Nyota pauses in her musing to give her a bit more of an explanation. “ It’s not like that between us...for me and Spock. If anything I feel too much when I’m with him. Being with Spock intimately is most certainly intense but I suppose it always would have been for me, being human and all.”

 

Again her mind feels a sense of betrayal at her soul’s yearning for companionship Spock has shown her but unlike T’Pring, what she feels is not so easily suppressed or dismissed. She is human and it is not a human ability to logic one’s emotions away. Though actions can be dictated and controlled, a terran heart is the fickle to its master and beats as it pleases.

 

If his force on her body was cruel, his kindness has slain her. She is a fool to ever hope for such a bonding as he has shown her in his chambers as they lie hot and tangled within the sheets but even the most abused creatures long for love. How odd that Spock should mark more than her skin and mind without her knowing, deeper than his lok could ever hope to penetrate.

 

Nyota clenches her jaw as she recalls the strange, rolling joy Spock feels every time he greets her. It pulls at her like an undertow within her mind, blooming in her chest and pooling down into her belly. Whether spooning, conversing or fucking her ragged the contentment the prince has in her presence is something she knows to be truly inspired by her alone.

 

She moved the hybrid, gave him something he did not want or miss until confront with it. He genuinely resented her for it, probably even more than his brother but the infatuation the little human sowed within him was greater than any response to passion than he had ever known.

 

The just yestermorn, where he had taken her on the floor of the bathing pools, had been one of the more enlightening experiences. Flat on her back with her wrists bound by his hands, Nyota cried out below him as he drove himself inside her on the cool tile floor. As uncomfortable as her surroundings were, what with the foggy steam of the pools and the cold bite of the marble beneath her, it was Spock’s emotions that waylaid her ability reason.

 

If unbonded sex had been intense then bonded sex was death and revival. It was like she had gone from feeling the oven’s heat licking at her skin to being the fire itself as it combusted and burned itself into nothingness. There were no words to properly encapsulate what the prince felt for her but damn them all if he hadn’t given up on trying to show her.

 

Crazed, delusional, fanatic were just a few words she could think of for what Spock was but what he felt was more than that. Now bonded to her as he was, Spock’s passion burned brighter and stronger than ever. So when he sought to give Nyota all of his mind during coitus she had nearly lost her own.

 

Nyota knew what it felt like to be impaled by his lok, the hot, thick length of it burning her to the core. But never had Spock twisted her mind to sense what it felt like to have the wet tightness of her own cunt envelope him in a needy grip. Nyota’s back left the floor in a painful arch as Spock nuzzled her neck and quickened his thrusts inside her.

 

/Let me kiss you with kisses of my fingers until you beg me to cease. Let my mouth sup at your breasts and dine on your quim. Let me love you, until we can move no longer. /

 

She had sobbed his name in a ragged voice as the bond between them flooded her with the sensation of fucking and being fucked. It wasn’t for her to know what having a cock felt like especially an alien one filling her own body but there Spock was giving no thought to how disconcerting it might have been for her to feel everything . His twisted logic that bondmates shared so he would share all with his K’diwa.

 

And share he did. Once Nyota had become acclimated to the phantom sensation of driving the massive member into herself, she noticed what else Spock passed over within their link. There, far from the sordid righteousness he exuded over her body, had been a bright fledging of his affinity. His love for her still confused him but he found that in times like these when they lost themselves inside of one another that he no longer wished to understand it but live it out in truth.

 

/ I love thee. You are mine alone and I shall have no other. Sweet, little human, I shall cherish you all my days . K’diwa, my beloved, my fickle little heartmate. Let me love you. /

 

A groan had left their lips in unison along with a synchronized inhale as Spock bottomed out and ground his hips against her. Before she had even known her lips were moving words I love... flew from her mouth, in sync with his own from the proximity of their thoughts.

 

Nyota closed her mouth and turned her face away in fright and confusion. She hadn’t known for certain whose mind the words were born from but from the stinging burn to her cheeks she had a paralyzing suspicion.

 

Spock had crushed his eyes and moaned above her in near rapture before he fixated gaze back at her blushing face. / Yes, my human! Yes, Nyota! Say you love me!/

 

That Vulcan obsession had filled her then, stinging her eyes and making her tongue go numb in her mouth when she refused to speak. She had tried to distract herself with concentrating on the bouncing rise and fall of her breasts but even then the delicious heat that stole across her was not enough to have evaded his hunger for her heart.

 

In a sudden flurry of movement, his hands freed her arms and seized her head as he badgered her to finish her words. / Say it! Declare it, Surak damn, Nyota. The words are not my own alone. Claim me!/

 

Spock had grown wild them, pulling her up onto his lap as he continued to work between her legs in the hot, cloying air of the room. With her face caged between his hands, Spock licked at her face before butting his head against hers. / Claim me, claim me! Why will you not say what I feel from you?!/

 

The rest of the word spilled out then at his pleading but not what he had expected. / Beg me, Spock. Beg me with everything in you./

 

And that he did surprised her. Nipping and huffing along her face and neck, Spock begged with his mouth as his hands set her on fire. As he rocked her up and down on his lap, Spock drowned her mind of everything and replaced it why the honest request of please. Out of sorts and lost to his supplication she babbled everything little thing he wanted to hear.

 

She loved him, she wanted no other, he drove her mad and could not stop his bratty ways. Spock was the worst thing that ever happened to her and yet…

 

With a hand at her hip and one to her face Spock gave her a release that had her spiraling into a limp mess of tears from the strength of it. As he kissed along the arch of her neck with her head hanging back, Nyota swallowed against the crush of his lips there against her throat and faced the reality of her fallible nature.

 

She wasn’t suppose to fall in love with him, feel anything outside of heat for the mad Vulcan but she along with Spock felt the truth of her words as she stared up at the ceiling of the bath house. Cradled in his arms and stuck fast from his knot, Nyota knew that she had trapped and played herself into a corner.

 

Checkmate.

 

She clears her throat and gives T’Pring a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “ Like I said earlier, I’ve performed in far worse condition.”

 

T’Pring relaxes her shoulders and tilts her head curiously. “ The life of a hostess does not appear to be an easy one. Or a long one for that matter.”

 

“ If you are to be the life of the party you can’t let anyone down just because you have a fever or a hairline fracture in your tibia from jumping from years on end. You learn to mask the pain and labor through it because your client’s wants come before your needs. The show must go on.” she ends dramatically with a flick of wrist. The act was lost on T’Pring but Nyota feels that her words strike a chord with her nonetheless.

 

“ I feel that I may have underestimated you.” The Vulcan princess admits softly.

 

“ People often do.” Nyota huffs, rounding herself out into a backbend. “ It’s no matter. I just have to make sure that my work and talent stands out from the shadow of being the Prince Spock’s favorite consort.”

 

T’Pring spares her gaze from her leaflet and gives a short shake of her head. “ You are more than that, Nyota. You are Spock’s bondmate, not one of slave or pleasure. If he were to ever take the crown, you shall be with him as Empress.”

 

Nyota frowns and rubs a finger back and forth across her lips. Now it is she, who is confused. “ Did the prospect of being Empress of the alpha quadrant not tempt you into staying by his side?”

 

The Vulcaness readily shakes her head as she glides the bristles of her brush wetly across her scroll. “ Absolutely not. Logic would tell me there is no use staying if I might not survive his next...time. Being Empress would see me ruling the quadrant with a madman in my bed.”

 

“ He’s daft, I’ll be the last to argue that he isn’t. Wait...you said see you ruling the quadrant?”

 

T’Pring lifts her eyebrows in amusement and continues on scribing. “ I forget how short lived you humans are and the fluid composition of your memories. Our empire has always been a matriarchy. It wasn’t until Sarek disturbed the balance by taking a human to replace his departed bondmate, T’Rea’s, place that a male had taken the throne. With an alien in the seat of power, Sarek had to rule in her stead. It is rumored however that they rule side by side but the change is scandalise nonetheless.”

 

Nyota scrunches up her face and takes a quick inhale. “ My memory is one thing but what the Vulcan empire deems necessary to tell its subjects, especially its alien ones, is wholly another. We were never taught such lessons but then again my upbringing wasn’t entirely conventional. If Queen Amanda was Vulcan she would have been the sovereign over of all the alpha quadrant?”

 

“ Yes of course.” T’Pring says in a near scoff of disbelief. “ Female logic is much more sound than that of our males; their passion is much stronger than ours in turn. It was a Maat Pidkom who first broached bringing order and logic to the galaxy at large. Lady T’Pol.”

 

“ Of course.” Nyota agrees from what little history she was given. If it weren’t for T’Pring and her tutors who knows how ill-informed she would have been. Curious that her teachers never mentioned the rule to be a matriarchy. Was that detail seen as superfluous or was it intentionally left out of her studies? She can’t say they forgot, that goes against the very nature of how their brains work. No, Vulcans always had their reasons for words left unspoken.

 

Nyota ponders over a vision of Amanda ruling beside her bondmate as an equal partner and ponders over the possible actions that such a union had brought to the quadrant. Terra along with Risa and Betazed was clearly beloved by the Empire and the treatment of its subjects had been fairly mild in comparison to those of Andoria and Kro’nos.

 

A few treaties and enactments stand out in her mind as Vulcan agreed to retain the history, arts and cultures before the Skon landed and planted his priests and middle house lords over the Earth’s surface. As disruptive as their invasion had been and the amount of captives they had taken on for their personal pleasure, Vulcans had been light in their judgements under the new Empire Sarek of S’chn T’gai in comparison to those who ruled before him.

 

And while her imagination may be running away with her, Nyota can’t help but think that as the Emperor mourned his T’Rea and was given the rosy-cheeked scholar with the dark brown hair and a wit that was as dry as it was sharp might have had something to do with it. But...something’s wrong with the timeline…Amanda can’t be that old and be alive, let alone look as vibrant and young as she does now. Maybe she had been replaced with other beautiful women, like a parent would pose in a new goldfish as the old one for a child.

 

“ T’Pring, wasn’t it nearly 100 years ago that Sarek bonded himself to Amanda?”

 

“ 47 tevuns or 96 Sol years to be exact.”

 

Nyota’s mouth falls open with a gasp and shakes her head in disbelief. “ It can’t be! How in-”

 

“ It is the Emperor’s mind and will that preserves his mate. His skill beyond that of any Vulcan outside of the royal line. Over time the Emperor has honed arts that one can only dream of possessing, such as the cell manipulation he has performed with Queen Amanda.”

 

T’Pring’s eye glitter as she speaks while reverence rings clear in her voice. Funny, though not truly humorous, that the fearsome Vulcan overlord would inspire such admiration in one of his subjects. Then again T’Pring has known nothing but being Vulcan and the privileges therein. She’s never had to be subjected to slurs and unjust treatment of her person because her ears were the wrong shape.“ Even then sa’eik’te’krusu Sarek’s abilities are like that of the great mindlords of old. Never has a Vulcan extended the lifespan of another.”

 

“ Is that what is making him sick?” Nyota ventures curiously. “ His cough…. When we met-.”

 

“ Preserving his bondmate is neither the source or cause of his illness. The S’chn T’gai line, along with a number of the high houses, interbred for strength in their mental abilities as well as ‘purity’ of their blood. The results are what we see ruling the palace and subject ourselves to now, males sick in the mind or in body. The Emperor’s maladies have been with him since he was just a kanlar, just as Sybok and Spock.”

 

T’Pring shakes her head and purses her lips over a particular line of script. Nyota glances and murmurs a simple translations between the two dialects. T’Pring perks up in surprise and quickly writes the phrase. “ Quick witted and clever. I see why Prince Spock fawns over your mind as well as your body. My thanks.”

 

As she brushes down the words, the Vulcaness touches on another sensitive subject. “ At least with you Prince Spock has tempered himself somewhat. Though I heard about his fit after your chambermaids oiled your quim. It is the talk of all the servants, which is to say the favored topic of the court right now.”

 

Nyota flushes and shrugs off the memory of his audacious claim of her and their bond in front of them. “ I don’t know what Sybok was thinking, ordering them to do that. I thought it was just a special anointment they perform every so often to the ladies of the court. I don’t understand the crown prince in the least. Why do something like that just to dig at Spock’s anger and my nerves?”

 

“ Because he enjoys playing with others.” T’Pring answers simply. Nyota watches T’Pring as she takes a hand to draw back the long bell of her sleeve and begins another line at the top of her paper.

 

Her skill is magnificent, far beyond any brushwork Nyota’s seen decorating the palace halls. For all the work she’s done though, Nyota has yet to see any framed and hung. She’s transliterating an obscenely emotional, by Vulcan standards anyways, poem from the high house tongues into the layman’s speech but she can’t hide her breeding in the way she writes her t’ or rings her vehs. Why is she writing it? Or perhaps, to whom is she writing it?

 

Nyota asks drawing closer to where she sits to spy over her shoulder. It is not addressed but a space for T’Pring’s signature is clearly marked. Interesting.

 

“ What do you mean playing with others?”

 

T’Pring taps her brush over the lip of the inkwell’s bowl and drags the tip over where she left off. “ I mean it just as I say it. The crown prince regards people as a child regards its toys. They are characters that he tells what to do and how to do and when to do it. It makes no difference to Sybok how it turns out for the ‘toy’. If someone is broken, he has them mended. If someone dies, he has them replaced.”

 

Nyota bites at her lip and studies the floor. “ Would you say that I’m at risk of being replaced?”

 

T’Pring tilts her head delicately as she considers it, setting off a flashy sparkle as her hair ornaments and ribbons catch the light pouring in through the studio’s windows. “ I do not think as the crown prince does. The reasoning of his logic is beyond me and his proclivities are crude at best. He does hold you in some form of esteem as Prince Spock does, though different in its nature. I do not know what you stir in Sybok but you should take care that he never touches you. He’s a different sort of danger than Spock.”

 

Nyota’s vision tunnels as she grows weak in her knees. Sybok had placed his hands on her in the garden. She could say he touched her but it was more than that really. She has no clue as to the danger T’Pring is suggesting she take heed from. She wonders if it would be worse to know or be ignorant of said danger when she decides to ask. “ What sort of danger?”

 

T’Pring finishes her last scroll of script and gives Nyota forlorn gaze. “ As I said before, his reasoning is beyond me. I enjoy our companionship, Nyota. I would to see it to its full conclusion and not have one of the S’chn T’gais cut it short.”

 

T’Pring’s attention snaps towards the door leading to the hall beyond and moments later favors Nyota’s maid T’Sel with a dip of her chin. T’Sel bows first to the princess and then again towards Nyota with a small attempt of a smile. Nyota mirrors the gesture back and nods for her to state her business. “ Yes, T’Sel. What is it?”

 

“ If my lady would wish to bathe before we prepare your hair and makeup for the performance, we should do so now.”

 

“ That sounds nice. I believe I will.” Nyota agrees smiling brighter. Something to take the ache temporarily out of her muscles would be welcome. Maybe should could even ask for that strange psi pressure point technique to be applied before she dons her costume?

 

Nyota turns to part when she’s shocked to find T’Pring’s hand around her bicep. She turns back to find the princess’s face void of the apprehension she feels in the palm against her arm. Nyota pauses and blinks at her with equal tension until the Vulcaness finds her voice again. In a voice low enough to carry to her ears but not to T’Sel beyond, T’Pring levels her eyes and regards her face intensely.

 

“ Please do not allow Sybok to touch your mind ever again and by all means never find yourself alone with him.”

 

----------------

 

Vulcan stages weren’t shaped in the fashion of Terran ones but Nyota makes do with the triangular space she’s allotted. As she steps in places and squares her shoulders, she reassures herself one last time.

 

The ballet she chose to perform is an ancient one of her homeworld but it’s the part she plays that has her worried. True, the story might be lost on most since she’s only dancing 3 scenes from different acts but she’s not certain how the Vulcan court would take to her dancing the male lead instead of the female.

 

The choice feels right though as she’s been tossing it around in her head. Nyota has performed Swan Lake a thousand times over. From the common men to the Terran royals she has always been Odile or Odette and in rare times both. She could dance their solos in her sleep but something about their positions in respective males of the ballet has her turning towards Siegfried’s role.

 

She knows a bit more about princes know, too much now if she were honest and just as the young prince in the ballet Nyota feels herself caught off guard. Nyota glances down at her puffy blue tunic and white tights below and takes a deep breath.

 

This wasn’t about the princes she reminds herself, this dance is for the Emperor alone. He surprises Nyota with permitting her to direct, style and choreograph the whole performance but then again she thinks Sarek may use this allowance in creative directing to analyze her and how she thinks. What would he conclude once she ended her performance?

 

Nyota exhales as the music outside swells into a crescendoing boom and tucks her stage crossbow behind her arm. And now...

 

She leaps out onto the stage landing on one foot with her other leg held high behind her. Overhead Nyota suspends the crossbow and looks up in mix of joy and relief. Her Siegfried isn’t the traditional show of leaps and poses. In her own quiet strength Nyota makes his character her own, with masculine cou de pied devants and vigorous reveres while keeping her arms light and airy.

 

The crowd before Nyota is silent but their attention palpably wraps around her as she springs towards them in a lively arabesque and spins on pointe. She makes a point to ignore the booth located stage right seating the royal family and makes her movements towards the general audience.

 

By her fifth jump Nyota feels her foot send a sharp sting along its arch as she lands and brings her arms forward to display Siegfried’s prized weapon. The room’s controls have not be altered to suit her body but that of her audience as Nyota’s human body trudges through the higher gravity as best she can. She hides the pain in a wider smile and nimbly tucks her other leg beneath her and skips back towards the end of the stage on the tips of her toes.

 

The combination of the room’s temperature combined with the heat of the stage lights has her thankful for her light choice of make up. No doubt if she had gone as Odette or the temptress Odile he mascara and rouge would have been running down her face by now along the trail that her sweat was making.

 

As for Siegfried’s costume, she went with a bronzer that brought out her cheeks and false eyelashes that would give even Spock a run for his money. She hopes that the perspiration makes her look more dewy than drowned as she carries on sweeping her feet across the stage in a flurry of motion.

 

With no one to lift or dance in support of, Nyota turns her Siegfried into that of a roguish youth. In an exaggerated bow she disregards her crossbow and spins around it with her arms open wide to the crowd. Foregoing the hunt, the dark ballerina prances about like a wanderer through the woods, looking high and low for thrills and adventures. There is no Queen informing her Siegfried to marry nor swans to entrap her heart. She is free of her royal duties and the bonds of love that would keep her grounded.

 

With a giddy twist of her neck and a flick of her wrist Nyota sails through the air with the gaiety it brings her character. The joy of her freedom is genuine as she flits from one foot to the next. The Princes are rooted to their seats, minding their father and Amanda looks touched by the choice of ballet as she gently dabs her eyes dry.

 

Despite her efforts to ignore them all she can feel Spock’s presence weighted within her mind, entranced by her grace. His admiration settles as a jagged lump in Nyota’s throat, that she can neither swallow down or dislodge. She quiets the sting of it with trio of chasses in one of the corners of the stage.

 

Sybok’s eyes trance her every foot step, with his face blank of emotion for the first she can recall. His aloof appearance does nothing to calm her nerves. T’Pring’s words echo in a insistant loop just inside her ear. Innocent as he looks, a snake is still a snake and this one is bidding his time for Surak knows what.

 

Sarek seems awed and contented as his gaze follows her across the stage. She bows towards him ending the first scene before Siegfried would meet Odette and encounter the wicked Baron von Rothbart.

 

With one booted ballet shoe pointed in front of the other Nyota slowly rolls her head and glances towards them. The moment she locks eyes with the Emperor the stage and everyone crowded around it disappears.

 

She stumbles back blinking bringing her arm up to shield her eyes from the stage lights that still hang up above her. Before her is a lake, dark and still beneath her feet . An illusion? She takes a measured step forward with the foot she had lifted and watches the water ring out at the touch of her shoe. The dark fabric of it remains dry even as the water runs off back into the water.

 

She glances back up towards Sarek whose appearance has changed along with the stage. Instead of the highback paladin the emperor sits on a throne of reeds and cat tails with a flowering sapling as his scepter. His robes take on a lighter shade of bronze and glimmer in the light as beads of dew catch the light above. Why have you stopped dancing, one that is my son’s?

 

Nyota’s eyes shift anxiously as she takes in the small lake settings and back to his dark eyes. What is this, your majesty?

 

Your new stage. I thought you might enjoy a change in scenery given your revision of Swan Lake. Now...dance on before others notice that you’ve been speaking with me.

 

Sarek bows at her to continue the dance, disturbing the petals of the desert roses crown laced around his head. How he managed to keep it aloft is beyond her but then again her vision and perception aren’t functioning as they normally would.

 

For whatever his reasons Sarek has reached out to her through Spock’s bondlink and pulled her into to a world imagined for only the pair of them to see. At least she believes it’s only her and Sarek. Perhaps Spock can see it as well in his absence but that’s where she hopes the vision ends. She would not mind sharing with Amanda, though she’s nowhere in sight but not a certain other royal. She didn’t want that mad Vulcan in her head; one was enough...

 

Nyota swallows nervously unsure of her footing now that she can no longer see the edge of the stage. A tingle of humor passes over her as Sarek regards her observations.

 

I shall not let you fall, Ms. Uhura. Of this you have my word. I just wish to see you dance.

 

Pasting on a smile she uses her arms to illustrate that she has new, fantastical surroundings. She wiggles her fingers like water raining down and glides her arms out in a circle to denote the lake. Next she rapidly raises her arms up like shouts and reeds while daintily tapping her pointed toes across the lake’s bank to speak of the aquatic flora. Skipping along on a single foot Nyota smoothly waves her arms at sides, painting a scene of a swan parading about the water’s surface.

 

Wonderful, please do continue.

 

Nyota hears the Emperor think over her performance as she bounces from a glissande into an quick sissonne pas de chat as she extends her hands out like blossoming lotuses.

 

From his throne upon the bank Nyota can feel the Emperor muted pleasure at her gesturing as she speaks with her body of what she sees in her mind. He cannot bring himself to learn to speak such a language as dancing but to ‘hear’ it from her form was awe inspiring. The general malaise that followed his person gave Sarek a brief reprieve as he relaxed against the sound of the music and the sight of her twirling across the lake.

 

It isn’t until she feels his relief did Nyota notice how poorly the Emperor has been feeling. Sybok and Spock had touched on it the fact in conversation but feeling it for herself was wholly another. An aching pain plagued him from the crown of his down into the soles of his feet as if the gravity of Vulcan weighed on him more heavily. Losing himself in her dancing, the ever-present languor dissipates as he mind feels off the joy and ease of her movements.

 

His growing frailty has him feeling caged within his own body as his mind was still prime and sound. Linking with Nyota as she dances gives him a freedom that he has long since lost to his progressive list of ailments.

 

Nyota likens him to a child that has taken to bed being entertained by a parent’s animated storytelling. If it’s a wild expression of vivaciousness he wants then Nyota would show the Vulcan king how humans do it best! Amusement simmers up within Sarek at her assessment, neither rebuking or affirming her.

 

In a show of good natured teasing Nyota leaps from one lily pad to the next, legs side by side as she sails through the air. Sarek marvels over the sensation as she clears the floor and glides in the air.

 

A giddy warmth steals over her, making Nyota want to squeal and giggle at the tingle of it. She didn’t know the alien overlord would so thoroughly enjoy her vocation. Everything about ballet screams Terran but then again the more she knows of him, the more Nyota sees how much he favors her homeworld. Everything from his bondmate to his offworld holidays in Kenya and other hot nations speak of his preferential deferment of Earth. Whatever his reasons Nyota makes sure to be a prime example of the rich culture that can be found there as she bounds across the floor.

 

She gazes out on the lake with her hand shading her eyes as she searches the imagined horizon for others. With the exception of Sarek, Nyota remains alone on the dream lake. I guess no one else can or will join us ...she huffs with a shrug, vaulting onto a nearby lilypad. Whether Sarek is being possessive of her sight or merely wants the attention her captivation lends him Nyota no longer worries over. Let him be captivated, let him be equally enchanted as Spock she thinks as she rounds out her performance with a few of her most advanced moves.

 

Watch this one, your Grace she cheers in her head as she hops into a butterfly leap down onto one knee and then back up into a soaring battement en rond. The emperor regards her in wonder as she takes back to lilypads. Nyota spins on each circle leaf before jumping to the other with her leg thrown back to touch the bun at the back of her head.

 

She feels Sarek lean into the speed of her turn and pushes herself faster to push the thrill. Up and down she goes with the power of her legs to guide with the Emperor’s presence trailing behind her. His merriment washes over her and for a blissful moment her own exhaustion of Vulcan’s gravity and heat plaguing her body is erased and saturated in euphoria.

 

A curious weight tickles her head during her last landing, bringing Nyota to a stop on the water.  What is it? She glances down to the rippling water below, waiting for it to still. Sarek waits along with her, shifting in his seat with a spark to his eyes, most likely from the effects of her adrenaline rush. Waving to a halt, the water smooths into an image of Nyota hovering above it, crowned with a circlet of crystal and feathers.

 

A gift...for the ‘prince’ .

 

Nyota reaches up and runs her fingers over the crown Sarek has placed on her head and inhales with a smile. Between the rolling waves of crystal, feather line the front into a silvery crest. Sarek’s eyes smiles from his seat as her gratitude ebbs over and waves for Nyota to once again continue. Are you spent or can you still dance longer?

 

Nyota scoffs playfully and puts on a pose with her new crown as the prince she portrays. Am I not a master of the dance?

 

Nyota jetes as she catches the beat once more and leaps into a split with one arm overhead to punctuate the point. She continues on, dancing for ill Vulcan within her head and performing for all in the reality the mindlord has blinded her to.

 

Nyota lands heavily after a particularly difficult jump and feels her world tilt on its axis from a strong wave of vertigo. She falls to her knees with a fainted recovery at the water’s surface as her perception shifts, huffing loudly as her head lists to the side. Nyota stares blearily out as the world moves without her and claws at the lake’s rippling. What was happening? Did Sarek deepen the mind game between them too forcefully or for too long? Was she too human to endure it?

 

As she rises back up to her feet, Nyota blinks down at the fogging billowing in and the reflection of the stage lights dimming on the lake’s mirrored surface.

 

Something has changed but not from Sarek’s molding. What was that presence she felt lingering over her, burning and...familiar?

 

Another appears on the bank of the lake, quick and quiet as he is tall and foreboding. Spock.

 

Nyota pauses with one foot raised in front of her as she takes in his wardrobe. Gone is his drab gray robes for the evening and replacing them is a garish looking white robe. His large hands and head are all she can see of his person with an ivory mask hiding all but his mouth. He tilts his head head towards her, calling Nyota without words or sound. Nyota inhales sharply at the silently tremoring inside her, hammering her head so hard her vision shudders from side to side.

 

Floating above the water with not a ripple in sight, he comes to her like a specter and seizes her hand. Even in the dream-like vision Sarek gauzes over her vision, Nyota feels heat steal over her hand as if Spock actually touched her. What sorcery is this?!

 

Before she can speak Spock gently pulls her arm up and spins her with a hand on her waist.

 

You are not supposed to be here she thinks as she leaps free and disturbs the water, fleeing from his advances. Spock remains silent as he trails after her, neither dancing or walking as he glides across the lake.

 

Unsure of her reality Nyota continues to dance for whoever may be watching as she avoids Spock’s questing hands and fingers. Why did he come for her now? Was he jealous of his father’s attention? Why was he dressed as a Vulcan waterfowl?

 

Nyota extends her arms out in third position with a shake of her head to deter him away when she is bodily lifted up into the air by a large pair of gloved hands. Her chest opens to the ceiling as she arches her back and leans into the hands so she can prevent herself from being dropped. Her head falls back after a moment to spy the new addition while he spins her above him. Sybok.

 

Masked and robed in a similar fashion as Spock, the Crown prince is decked in black. His dark eyes stares beyond the mask into her own as he directs her away from his brother and back towards the center of the lake. Nyota steps away from him with her leg outstretched as soon as he places her down with her arms barring him from her person.

 

How dare he ! How dare they all! She was to dance for the royal court at the Emperor's behest, not dance while under the thrall of their mind games. Don’t toy with me Sybok!

 

You dare to call me by my name, little prince!?

 

Dread fills Nyota as Sybok ominously looms above her. She stares up at his raising arms cornering her off and away from the others. His presence feels deafening, dulling her senses as he looks to envelope her. He blinks down at her with a small sneer playing at his lips. You should ask Prince Kirk what I do with royals that don’t know their place. For you, as the peasant that you are I can tell you that the answer is the same as his was. Below me.

 

She waltzes backwards away from him on her toes as she glares up at him with a unconvincing scowl. You don’t frighten me, you bully.

 

Even with his face covered she can feel his surprise play over his face. I don’t frighten you? You should be. Mayhaps I give you something to be frightened about?

 

Just when she feels she’s reached the edge of the stage and her will, Spock pulls Sybok away with a silent snarling face, giving Nyota the exit she desperately was looking for. Sybok huffs at Spock with a flash of his teeth while Nyota escapes in a grand show of leaps and traveling pirouettes.

 

How in the universe did her dance end up with a scene from her nightmares!? Nyota skitters away in rapid trail of running skips, in a foolhardy quest to evade the Vulcan pair of princes as they try and subdue the other. She can’t outrun either one but that does not stop her from trying. Spock she does not mind so much as it is his brother who hunts her. The world before her is imagined but she does not wish to be laid bare or worse before an audience. At least she suffered under Spock’s forced ministrations alone in the privacy of his rooms. To have him do so before his brother and his father would leave her feeling even more vulnerable than she has been.  

 

Nyota’s nearly to the bank where Sarek remains seated when Spock materializes before her. She barely has time to gasp, let alone flee when her bondmate places his hand at her sternum and guides her to revolve on a single foot with her other leg out behind her.

 

This is my dance, not yours! She rails at him as he watches her behind her mask. A possessive anger flashes over her as he takes in her thoughts at his presence.

 

Running two fingers over her neck, Spock smoothes a kiss down her throat. It is our dance. We are one. In this you cannot deny me. I have marked you and as much as you would think it a falsehood, you’ve marked me too, little dancer.

 

She’s just about to reprimand him when Sybok swiftly cuts in between them. Hello, swan ‘prince’.

 

Just as suddenly as his brother had appeared the crown prince has her by the waist and draws her back towards the lake.

 

Nyota reaches out towards Spock as Sybok pulls her back against him and hums with delight. The prickly sensation of his phantom beard sets the skin along her neck and face on fire as he nuzzles against her. What a pretty little troublemaker you are. Stealing away my brother, pitting my father further against me and making me downright cross with you.

 

An unmistakable lump molds itself along between her rear and back as he rolls his hips forward and grips one hand possessively around her neck. Nyota swallows harshly against his palm as Sybok tightens his hold and licks roughly at her ear. Bloodthirsty lust assails her from his hand as he spins them both around and holds her hip. What should I do you, swan prince, hm? Should I stroke or pluck your feathers?

 

Leave me be, you beast! Nyota hisses within her mind as he spin her around to face him with a lecherous smile. She can feel his intent to kiss her before she sees him leans in towards her. He’s jealous and curious, that one toy should make off with another. Everyone seems so intrigued by her, the one hostess he overlooked as she danced as she does now on the Terran stage not long ago.

 

Spock saw it and took her readily but he did not share her as was their custom. They always shared toys. He had waited for him to call within their bond, felt his pleasure as she was stripped half bare and taken with relish. He had imagined the pair of them leaving her spent and splattered with sticky, wet ribbons. He had fancied the image of her holding the head of his lok on her tongue as he filled her mouth with his seed, watching the excess of it dribble down her chin and onto her breasts. He even pondered over the sensation of feeling all three of their climaxes as Spock took her rear and he filled her quim, with her wriggling between them fitfully.

 

But Spock did not call him and had no intent now of ever doing so. He had thought his melancholy over her departure to be a fluke, some fling that he attributed more meaning to than necessary but when he carted her body off to Vulcan and ‘revived’ her, Sybok saw that Nyota had bewitched him. The more time she then spent in his company had him thinking that perhaps there was some merit to it. Maybe Nyota Uhura is something wonderful to possess, a treasure he can steal from his little brother and hide away from his parents. Maybe she is perfect for him?

 

Nyota gasps aways with a jerk, knocking herself off balance and into his arms as he lifts her again with the strength of one hand. In the enchantment of the waterscape she can feel the crown prince Odile’s heat pressing up through his palm. Panic grips her as Nyota struggles for meaning as to what it could spell for her.

 

Desperate to be free of his mind’s hold and imagined touch, Nyota throws herself down and lands with an umph into Spock’s waiting arms. He turns her round towards his father with her hands resting on top of his palm to palm. Nyota sighs as the bastard Odette nuzzles her neck and lifts her away from his darker brother as Sybok resumes his chase.

 

Spock lowers her down to deal with his brother and she tendus towards Sarek with a fierce scowl of disappointment. Why she thinks why would you allow this to happen? Why would you let your sons chase me? I was to perform for you, not run through the maze of your mind with your minotaur sons!

 

A mid step she’s frozen suspended on her toes with a graceful arch of her back and her neck thrown back in despair. From the corner of her eye she sees her swan princes are still as well as Sarek holds all three within the illusion. All too late does she realize that her thoughts are not solely her own and through Spock, the other Vulcans can hear her words.

 

Sarek rises from his throne and descends down through reeds onto the water. The water ripples around him as he proceeds to stand before her. Nyota’s heart hammers at her chest as he studies her carefully but control to her limbs does not return to her. “ You are exceptional, Ms. Uhura. An extraordinary dancer. You made this one feel young again; a feat that is not so easier rendered or paid for.”

 

He caresses her cheek idly with a fingers and she is startles once again, this time by the instantaneous ease that settles over her. The stroke is not sensual in nature or patronizing, but caring in its delivery. She equates it to a kiss to the forehead by a concerned parent. He holds her chin as she stands frozen in her pose. “ Ms. Uhura, I am...I wish to give you gift. You gave me one this evening with your craft and despite my sons’ attempts to spoil it, I had a grand time.”

 

Running his thumb across her chin and glancing down softly at her mournful expression, he gives her the shock of a lifetime. “ Ask anything of me that I can give you and it shall be yours.”

 

Nyota’s heart shutters as her breath knots in her throat. Anything? She could ask for anything of the Emperor and she would have it? As if to help in prompting her, Sarek fills the lake’s banks with the dazzling image of jewels and diamonds. The dark sky fills with imagines of Risa II and Rigel IV, huge starships and a mirage of a palace on the horizon.

 

Anything, little one. Amanda and I would be more than glad to give it to you. It would be a small profit however for what you dealt with when it came to my sons’ behavior. I heard both of them...forgive me and our lack of mental medicines. My sons are ill but far be it for me to excuse any of what I witnessed or what I know…

 

Nyota’s eyes betray her as they welled with water and threatened to spill down her cheek. Sarek hums contritely and pulls her lids close gently with his fingers. Ask me little one. Show me your heart’s desire. The first thing that comes to your mind.

 

Freedom. I wish to be free, your Grace.  

 

Sarek hums with humor and examines her heart more thoroughly. Very well, it shall be done. Though your freedom will not come as simply or as quickly as you think.

 

It’s then that he does kiss her, gently at her temple as a seal to his promise. Nyota feels the air move and sway around her and the woody scent of him, so much like his offspring fill her nose. She opens her eyes, half expecting to still see him there when the stage and the audience surrounding it return to her vision. A roaring thunder of Vulcan cheers as they rang their hand bells in a deafening crescendo. Nyota bows once as her character and then curtseys as herself while the bells fill the air with their voices. Once the chiming dies down Nyota turns to the wailing noise of a woman to her right.


There in the Empress’s arms is Sarek, unconscious and bleeding from his nose. As his attendants gather him onto a stretcher, Nyota cups her face where he last made his impression and notes the smiles softly painted on his lips.

Chapter Text

Spock stares down at the needle wedged in his forearm as it draws away the tarry green blood from his veins into his father’s. Sarek lies silently on the bed beside Spock’s chair, unaware of the chaos his absence from the throne has caused the empire. At the first mention of his failing health rebellions had begun to crop up among the outer colonies in the quadrant. Now seemingly on his deathbed, the rebels have seized the opportunity to free themselves from the Vulcan’s clutches if only long enough to flee towards the gamma quadrant.

 

Sarek’s brother Silek, has remained largely silent at the violent uprisings. Spock has seen little of his uncle as the elder prince kept himself confined to his wing of the palace and even less now after the ballet. Little goes into his tower and even less comes out, including any word of his dealings or well being. If Spock had to figure, he supposed that Silek was taking comfort in his gowns and powders as he sought to console himself over Sarek’s failing health.

 

As melancholy as his uncle is, Spock’s brother could not be happier. Sybok had only just returned from a fortnight’s worth of raiding and looked positively radiant from the aftermath of his pillaging. Suppressing any beings opposing the crown, Sybok used his mind as much as his phaser and sword to do so.

 

From what Spock has seen on the holo-reports, his brother’s verve in quieting the uprisings was alive and well. It did not concern him overly much, seeing as he was a Vulcan prince but for others Spock could well see how the crown prince’s unchecked terror was a horrid preview should they continue on their current path.

 

Not hours before Sybok returned with a cargo hold full of females from Bajor and Betazed. Dragging them out two by two the Sybok handed them out as gifts to those in power. Wailing punctuated the air throughout the royal city of Shikahr as the Lords examined their prizes and thanked the crown prince for his favor and attention to duty to the Empire.

 

Spock saw it all for what it was though.

 

Whether in the form of tender flesh or gold pressed latnium, his brother was cementing his claim to the throne over that of his uncle and himself. While Silek could rightfully rule as was his placement in line, the dandy grand prince had never expressed a great interest in controlling the galaxy. He gladly did as duty would have him until the next time he could waltz back to his chambers and play in his cinched robes and wigs.

 

No matter the changes his father had made, his uncle Silek would be hard pressed to have Vulcan accept him as female encased within a male’s form alongside his consort. Vulcan was not known for its progressiveness, but it was renowned for its order. It was not their way to carry on as he did being so noble in rank. Everyone had their place and he was not conforming to his.

 

Many had voiced their opinion on the matter but Sarek had allowed his brother to live as he wished and ordered that no other to trouble him. Sarek loved Silek, not as Sybok loved Spock himself, with that odd, possessive sensuality, but in truth and honor. And unlike Sybok, his father could trust his brother in any and everything.

 

Spock would no more leave a pet fish in Sybok’s care let alone the fate of the empire if he cared for either. He still found it difficult to summon any strong feelings of empathy or consequence for anyone but a certain copper colored darling had definitely overcome that obstacle. He had nothing but strong feelings for his beloved.

 

And from those welling emotions, Spock was reminded that he loved and was in love with something outside of himself. Something that could die, some thing that was a some one . She was someone, unlike the cool T’Pring, that curiously drew him closer to the throne. His father’s blessing over their fateful dinner had seen to that but what good was it to Spock to have the blessing but not the right?

 

For his own claim, Spock had been gaining popularity among the masses with the famed ‘ Dancing Jewel of Terra’ at his side. His softened temperament had been noted and greatly appreciated throughout the court. And the sharp wit and lovely face of his bondmate has been infectious towards all who came across her.

 

His mother had surely paved the way for his bride, with her charm, grace and natural elegance. Nyota’s vivaciousness however had Vulcans turning their heads for other reasons. Sybok had unfettered himself with the ties of bondage when he allowed himself to become carried away with his mate’s mind and person. No one knew the truth of it but Spock and his father and neither really spoke of it.

 

Spock balled his fist in remembrance of his brother’s advances towards his K’diwa. He would destroy everything and everyone around Sybok if he harmed Nyota in truth but everything has been made as a promise or threat of something more.

 

Spock knew his brother well enough to know that Sybok would needle him into a fight for the hell of it. A raucous mental tussle and subsequent caress as they made up had been one of his brother’s favorite but Spock had grown tired of their mind games.

 

Sybok would probably spend the rest of his days frollicking in hostess houses and the dens of his war spoils but such worldly pleasures no longer held Spock’s interest. Perhaps because not all of the world was Nyota Uhura and in that small human was all of Spock’s world.

 

Everything in him sang of her soft, mellow coolness. She was special, singular, never had something or someone made him hunger as he did. Yearning did not even begin to describe his want of her mental and physical touch.

 

As best he could Spock pursued her, chasing Nyota with the longing he felt in his fingertips and the ache that plagued his loins to knot within her. Strange that her presence would see his madness wan and then replaced with that called love, which he could only conclude was an illness in itself.

 

She is better than him...he could admit that now but eshu’a damn him if anyone thought that the strength of her humanity would keep him from her. She was, is and always would be his . Outside of her emotional magnetism, Spock still was plagued with apathy, though to a lesser extent. He did not want to lose the sensation; feeling was like gaining a second sight. It was a frightfully wonderful thing to experience emotion and in the face of it Spock found himself further engulfed with hoarding Nyota away like some treasure token her.

 

Was this the same feeling his father had felt for his mother? Was this the way of his people that had eluded him until now? Had Sybok led him astray in gorging himself on those who did not move him or stir his Vulcan soul?

 

Whatever his answer Spock knows Sybok could hardly do anything to steal his beloved away from him. She loved her, he could feel it, he begged her into admitting it and how glorious that had been. Nyota’s words of endearment from their time together in the bath house rang in a looping chorus within his mind as he went about his day until he could tease new ones out of her during their evenings together.

 

The morning that he got her to confess her love, however small and coerced, thrilled his heart until his side ached in pain of it. She, so lovely and brilliant, loved him for him. As much as she sought to use him for his position of power, Nyota couldn’t deny the affection shared between them. Waiting out Nyota’s exhaustion of trying to eluding him had been but convincing her of the permanence of his emotions towards her was still a harrowing feat.

 

As big as he knows his ego to be, it is not so large that what he asks of his bondmate is more than most. And he’s not so mad that her reaction to his proclamations seem illogical either. But he has to have her and she has to take him on as well.

 

What a misery it would be to have her never love him of her own accord!

 

Melding for answers had produced very little results. No matter his skill, Spock could not scry her heart to any end. It was almost as if she were shielding him but that thought in itself was rubbish. A psi-null human block a budding mindlord such as himself? Utter nonsense .

 

What he could feel from Nyota’s soul and confession of love was truth. Her resolve to embrace it however was riddled with angst and confusion. So while he is pleased with her confess her love, forced or otherwise, her pain does not please him as it once did...well, particular pains. Spanking her still amused him to no end and then there was drawing out her petite mort until she cried for mercy. Yes that was Spock finds equally delightful.

 

Yes, with his Mombasan jewel he could conquer the lot of the quadrant by employing his Nyota’s charm but why take on any more duties than he already has. Attending his father’s small council and executing his duties as prince were more than enough to keep him occupied.

 

He had pursuits beyond his royal obligations, such as science and physics.  As the third in line if Silek formally renounced his brother’s accession to the throne, Spock had never truly entertained ruling. If he were to speculate as to his life before Nyota, Spock would have concluded it to be mostly spent away in his apothecary researching the nature of the humors between his study of the female form.

 

Spock neither expected or wanted the crown but Nyota he wanted. Sybok however appeared to desire both. Logic help him if his brother ever harmed her or stole her heart before he could. Spock was still young and coming into his mental abilities, what with his human muddled blood but he would raze Sybok with everything of him, sword, hand, tooth and mind.

 

In truth Spock fears unleashing himself to his baser nature, remembers what happened last time, how many he had subjected to his ire. It had been good for the war effort but at a great cost for many. He did not want his new bondmate to see him for what he was. And his father were to pass…

 

A sigh leaving his father’s lips stirs Spock from his reframe and has him studying his features once more. Other than the slight lilac tinge to his extremities Sarek looks as if he is in a deep slumber. He sighs again followed by a dry hacking cough and Spock moves his unhindered arm towards the pitcher to fetch him water. His hand is nearly to the handle when Sarek seizes his forearm from where he reclines on the bed.

 

Spock’s eyes loose their focus as the room takes on a dream like haze of a meld. Blinking away the haze, Spock spies Sarek seated neatly before him on the bed in a perfect picture of health.

 

“ Spock, my favored son.”

 

Spock bobs his head and blinks back at him mildly. “ Father, my King.”

 

Sarek scoffs at the implied slight and purposeful distancing between the two of them. Spock had never been warm towards anyone outside of Nyota. The most Sarek had personally witness was him holding his mother’s hand out of deference to her.

 

“ How are you and your intended faring?”

 

Spock straightens his back though his body outside of the meld holds its rigid position mid reach towards the delicate porcelain pitcher. “ This one is well enough. My beloved slumbers nearly as deeply as you are. Her mind was exhausted by you and brother during her performance. I have attended to her body’s needs with neuro pressure and ordered that she not be disturbed as she rests.”

 

“ I happen to recall that you were present in her mind as well, Spock, the night of the dance.” Sarek comments idly with a pointed lift of his brow.

 

Spock mirrors his brow movement and quickly retorts. “ I was the only one that should have been in her mind, father. Your intrusion between us was no cause for offense but did not go unnoticed or unchallenged.”

 

At that Sarek smirks and draws a lazy smile from his lips. “ Of course. You never did entertain sharing anything. Fortunate that can not keep the air from the sky and the water of the lakes or we would all surely perish from your selfishness.”

 

“ Selfish? Perhaps prudent is more apt a title.”

 

His father gives a breathy huff through his nose of laughter and tilts his head as he tests it out. “ All hail Spock the prudent. Would you truly aspire to such a name safu?”

 

“ Would that I could, father. It’s more likely this one will be herald in as the bastard prince evermore. If I were to ever take the crown something like the masses would merely replace prince with King. Demon Emperor has a certain appeal. It strikes fear and confidence in the minds of the common populace I would think.”

 

Sarek tilts his head with a look of surprise from the fold of his brow. “ Truly? I would think the populace referring to you as such would be more along the lines of how others view your appearance.”

 

It’s now that Spock scoffs in all sincerity. “ Well I would hardly want that nor would it be true. Any can gaze upon my person and see that I am most handsome.” Spock rebuffs, dismissing the inference.

 

“ And quite modest…” his father replies shortly after. “ Mine ears as of late hath heard thee called neither bastard or demon but repentant. Thy bride has curried you unforeseen favor with the court.”

 

Spock raises his brow at his father’s sudden use of high Vulcan but follows suit if only to see where it leads him. “ Mine is one who can curry anything of consequence she turns her mind to.”

 

“ All but her heart’s desire.” Sarek interjects, casting his eyes over his son.

 

“ And what would thou knowest of that, sire?” Spock rebuffs with a narrow gaze.

 

Sarek ignores the implied threat and leveled a haughty stare of his own. “ I know everything I seek to trouble myself in making mine business. And being Sovereign over this space everything is my business, Spock...”

 

Spock flounders mentally as his father hisses his name, catching sight of Sarek’s potential choler at his challenge against him. Defend his claim of Nyota he would but push his father into being piqued Spock most definitely would not. In the scene between them Spock lowers his head and averts his gaze. “ Beg pardon, father.”

 

The emperor’s gaze still holds fast to his person but his attention is elsewhere. “ Never mind begging pardon, I would see your bondmate treated with the mercy you currently cower for. I will not have you so blindly follow your brother that you would render your bondmate lifeless as well.”

 

Spock’s jaw flexes tightly at his father’s suggestion that he would harm Nyota and labors to keep the growl he feels welling in his chest out of his voice. “ I...I have never raised a hand to her.”

 

Sarek huffs through his nose at Spock’s posturing and gives him a sour stare.“ Other things have risen in its place, your lok for one. And before you give your hand clearance know that your fingers have spun their web of telepathy over her and ensnared her as your wife. Or did I just imagine the bond between you two?”

 

“ I have done nothing others have not done before me, father.” Spock replies pointedly.

 

“ You are your mother’s child.” he sneers back. “ Do you think I beseech these things out of the ‘kindness’ of my heart? Do you know me so poorly Spock? Have I not been the most logical around you.”

 

Spock rolls his eyes, glares down at the floor. “ With not so much as a thank you to those who grant you the privilege-”

 

Spock chokes as his father takes hold of his mind and breath. Sarek rises slowly from the imagined bed and cocks his head towards him. “ Privilege ? You think my sound mind is a gift you and your brother bestowed onto my with your telepathy suppressing mine illness?”

 

Spock sputters harshly with his arms held out before him, in an involuntary reflex to free the constriction from his throat.  

 

Sarek cuts his eyes at him and sneers in disgust. “ It is my right . I am given nothing because I possess everything. Whether by force or simple obedience that I cannot say…” he answers pinning Spock in his gaze. “ Some are more stubborn than others.”

 

Spock feels his physical body quake from a lack of oxygen and Sarek purses his lips in contempt. “ Do not insult me with your show of weakness, safu. If you want to breathe, take your breath back.”

 

Sarek releases his mind back to him and Spock reins his nerves to focus own his control. Slowly and carefully Spock focuses on the energy his father exerts along the nerves lining his trachea and gently pried himself free of the elder’s steely grip. Much to his own delight Spock feels his body draw at the air and clear the dizzying sensation that had begun to settle over him.

 

Sarek for all his blustering seems more pleased than put out by Spock’s show of strength and bows his head with a sly glint to his eyes. “ Very good. Remember who sired you and what I am capable of, safu. Then you will know the extent of your own power.”

 

“ A curious way to bestow me with such wisdom father. A parable would do just as well...” Spock presses as he chases away the sensation of wanting to rub his neck with a jagged swallow.

 

Sarek gives a small shrug of his shoulders as he reclaims his seat on the bed. “ Wisdom comes as it comes. Be glad that I would impart this at all.”

 

“ And yet, you do...why?” Spock asks now puzzled.

 

Sarek looks past him towards the imagined view he invisions within their meld and purses his lips as he composes his modus operandi into words. “ I have done all expected of me when it came to ushering in a new line and you and Sybok have shown much promise. I have no doubts that when I expire either of you could succeed me. And therein lies my wisdom.” he says reclaiming Spock’s gaze.

 

“ We are a jealous people safu and you two helping me with my burden has not eased the tension. Sybok has seen what your lithe bondmate has gained you. Not only has Nyota conquered the court, I would venture to say that the female has overrun you as well.”

 

“ I am happily collared by mine mistress.” Spock replies, ignoring all mention of Sybok. To hell with the cox-comb churl. He could be the royal male doxy all by himself.

 

“ She is too but not merrily so.” Sarek agrees somewhat.

 

Spock rears back in the dream, with wide eyes and a low voice of menace. “ You would have me release her?”

 

“ I would have you keep her happily collared as you so put it. Nyota does not desired to be your possession but your lover in truth.”

 

Spock blinks rapidly in growing frustration and grinds his teeth. “ Father you speak in riddles. She wants to be my captive but free of me? What madness does your mind adjure me to do?”

 

Sareks smiles softly and speaks with all the raspy bass of his voice. “ I would grant you the knowledge to keep her as I’ve kept your mother, to covet her youth and beauty for decades yet to come.”

 

Shock and wonder shows clearly on Spock’s face as he takes in his father’s offer. A meld, a sacred one, revealing the secrets to his psionic magic upon the human life force. With it he could slow the quickened blood of his Nyota, perhaps even prolong his own life to the fullest a pure blooded male would. He could finally relinquish the fear he possessed at her early loss. They could age together.

 

Encouraged by his silence, Sarek goes on, leaning towards him with his back straight and his eyes firm. “ All of my mental alchemy concerning life and much more, if you swear your word to me.”

 

Spock leans back and places his hands across his lap. “ My word? That is your price? Father, curt and surly I might be but loyal I hath always been to thee.”

 

“ Your loyalty now incompasses your beloved’s welfare.”

 

“ I see to her needs.”

 

“ That you have.” Sarek agrees readily. “ There is still more to the human than clothing, shelter and a full belly. Your females has wants, a desire in fact that I wish to grant her but worry that I may pass before the time is at hand.”

 

Spock observes Sarek sighing both within and outside of the meld and figures that though he is still strong of mind his heart is laboring more than it should. Sarek ignores Spock’s mental concern and looks at him sternly. “ I would have you give your word to see to its fulfilment. Grant your beloved’s wish on my behalf and all of what I have mastered within my mind is yours to have. A gift for a gift.”

 

“ I would give it father but how do I free her and keep her all at once? How would you have me keep this promise?” he implores bewildered.

 

“ I have no doubt you will find your way Spock. You were always the more learned between you two.” he says quietly.

 

Spock grinds his teeth at the thought of his brother and Sarek flashes his eyes at him. “ You may kindly keep your fantasies of fratricide to yourself, safu.”

 

“ It is something that I have had to entertain as of late. Sybok has turned from me.”

 

“ Did you not turn from him first, Spock with your love for your bondmate? I say this not to scold you but to have you understand the nature of his offense. Perhaps time spent with Sa’kai would help mend your bond.”

 

“ In his company I find no favor and little merriment. We have changed and in the loss of my brother’s affection I mourn that but he is dangerous father.”

 

Sarek keeps his gaze serious but allows for a wry smile to move his mouth upwards. “ How ironic. That is supremely caustic coming from you, safu. Mayhaps you forget the planets your razed? The stars you collapsed and left millions to be frozen alive or swallowed up by black holes created therein? The females you-”

 

Spock sighs in annoyance and raises his hand. “ I know of my follies, father. In performing my duties I am known to be overzealous.”

 

Sarek reclines on the bed, resting his torso up against headboard. “ I would hardly call destroying a star system a ‘folly’ or something I ever ordered you to do. Overzealous would be the understatement of the century. Suppressing a rebellion does not call for planet wide destruction unless you want another Kro’nos to pick over for anything of value.”

 

“ Kro’nos was none of my doing and it was common knowledge they had only started their own empire for lack of natural resources of their own.”

 

Sarek closes his eyes at Spock defensive objections and sighs heavily. “ Of course Spock, nothing is ever your fault. If you were not so pensive in nature perhaps you’d see someone presenting an example of your destructive behavior.”

 

“ You, father, of all people should understand how-”

 

“ Me? Understand what exactly, Spock? How Bendii warps your perspective? Enslaves you to your emotions? I hardly see how that was ever a problem for you carrying my symptoms when you had no feelings outside of pleasure and disgruntlement. Your brother has the bigger burden even with him being fully Vulcan and he has hardly ever complained.”

 

“ That is because he is mad outside of the charge you placed on him.” Spock counters, matter of factly.

 

“ We’re all mad here.” rebuts his father with the ancient quote from an old, Terran tome. He cracks his eyes back open to look at his fuming countenance. “ My question is whether or not you are mad enough to care about someone outside of yourself. Will you see to your human’s wishes as well as her needs? And when you take the poor dear beneath you do so with consideration of her heartache if you were to continue to force her when she is not willing?”

 

Spock purses his lips and hampers down whatever foulness he feels inside himself. Of course he wanted Nyota, the longer the better but could he ever be enough to satisfy her longing for freedom? He doubts she’ll ever forgive him for his repeated coercions? Could Nyota live happily with him?

 

Sometimes he sees glimpse of her mind, of a world in which none of this exists but she imagines all the same. In this world she sails through the stars, Terra and Vulcan are happy and peaceful and she is in love and beloved. By him.

 

How could he bring that kind of universe into being? How could Spock make such things a reality even with his royal lineage and power? He was just a prince and a bastard at that.

 

Under Sybok’s rule Nyota’s wishes for independence and sojourning from Vulcan could never be. Perhaps with Silek...or himself they could? No matter. Whatever his lot he would cast his chips and wherever they would fall he would see to Nyota as best he could. He would also see to curbing his abuse of power over her. His days of plundering her mind and quim as she fought to get free were over.

 

She would not only live with him as wife but flourish in her our spirit. “ I swear by our old gods and our logic to uphold our bond as sacred. I will not take another and forsake my bond to T’Pring.”

 

Spock feels his father’s telepathy steal over him and bind his words as bond. The females in his life shift their places within his mind, Nyota shifting forward as primary and T’Pring slipping back into the space where the servant bonds lie. He feels both females regard the movement but he answers neither. T’Pring will know what’s going on and for Nyota he wishes to surprise her if she doesn’t already know.

 

A wed night was in order, one with all the trimming he could glean from her mind in secret. Away from most of the prying eyes of the court and sequestered away in the caves outside on the castle grounds, he would charm Nyota into his bedding and have her willingly riding his lok until she cried in ways other than sorrow.

 

Idly Spock entertains the thought of possibly keeping her there until she was with child.

 

If thine lady doth not protest to the prospect his father teases in warning.

 

But of course, if she is amenable to the suggestion of residing there for a spell. Producing an heir, however, you have already commanded of her, father and I shan’t have her remiss in her duties, he promises with his typical candor.

 

Thou art shameless but loyal. I know you shall keep your word. So be it. Be still and I shall grant you my mind.

 

Now content with the arrangements of the bonds inside his son’s mind, Sarek then divulges his mental mastery onto him. He finds a plan in which to implant it and marks it with a strange numbing sensation. Spock realizes all too late why his father would do so as the mental transfer strikes him like a spike in his skull. Spock gasps audibly and claws at the table his forearm physically lays on.

 

His father has shared knowledge this way before but never was it ever this painful!

 

Father! Prithee free me of this-

 

The pain is entangled within the instruction as a failsafe. In case of kae’at k’lasa my mental prowess coupled with that of the intelligence will deter anyone trying to gain it by underhanded means. If you lose consciousness there is no shame of it; I did when your grandmother passed on the knowledge to me.

 

Spock screws up his face as the churning motion of the meld lances through his temple like a twisting dagger. If it continues for much longer he fears losing his morning meal on his father before passing out neither of which he welcomes as his stomach heaves and lurching sourly at the sharp sawing within his head.

 

The vision of him and his father wavers with bright flashes and intermittent sparks of spotted light. Something warm trickles from his nose and his ears and his heart pounds rapidly at his side.

 

Do not try and understand this all at once, safu. Review it over the coming years and decades. You will find it will take some time in harvesting all the knowledge and being able to perform it but it’s all right here now.

 

Spock yells in agony and seizes above him. What has he agreed to? His father was above lying, more for the fact he didn’t have to answer to anyone but Spock can’t help but think Sarek was trying to kill him from the amount of torment he puts him through for this.

 

Just when he thinks he can take no more, Sarek relents and sighs audibly. “ Done.”

 

Spock groans and lets his body physically fall where it may. His happy to feel the bed embrace and very little of his person colliding with his father’s prone form. He had hardily moved but it felt as if he had ran leagues through the desert without stopping. He groans again at the feel of his father’s hand brushing his face and mind in comfort. “ Peace, Spock. It is over.”

 

Spock nuzzles into the rare physical affection and mumbles feebly against the soft duvet of his bedding. “ Father, your health-?”

 

“- is not what it once was. My heart seeks to end me before the Bendii slays my mind and soul in turn. While the proposition of death has never appealed to me a quick and tidy one does have its advantages. You and your brother of course have helped me and the Empire immeasurably with your continued serves.”

 

The meld vision wavers as in testament to his constitution and strikes Spock with an odd sense of pining. For all their wealth, for all their strength of telepathy and military might and more doctors at their disposal to aid in his conditions, Sarek was completely destitute in his health. It was only from the sheer will of his mind, the blood and mental control of his sons and a plethora of elixirs that the Emperor had even graced the palace the last eighteen years.

 

Spock has never considered life without his father overly much because he did not care either way. Just as every mortal male he is here and then one day he would not be. Now however he feels an emotion likened to that when Nyota left him and he could not eat or sleep.

 

“ Grief, safu. It is grief. Illogical, painful and natural. It drove me to find a way to prolong your mother’s life and for that I am grateful.”

 

Spock closes his eyes and physically rises from bed back to his chair while still in the grip of his father’s meld. “ I can do this for Nyota now? Let her live as mother does?”

 

“ In time. The knowledge of such will reveal itself but not for a spell. This goes beyond melding and your ‘parlor trick’ with your bondmate’s revival.”

 

Spock startles at Sarek’s mention of his ruse to secure Nyota but his father blinks up blearily at his face and gives him an odd lopsided smile. “ Sybok did not tell me. Some thing a father just knows. I will admit it was clever and well orchestrated.”

 

“ Not well enough.” Spock comments glumly. Sarek hums at Spock’s pouting and shifts along the bed. “ Some mind arts will come to you more readily, such as puppeteering a host body and implanting memories but extending the lifeforce of another is not one of them.”

 

Sarek pauses and studies Spock’s attire curiously. Only now does Spock notice that his father’s mind has dressed him in the same robes that he donned at the ballet. He suppose he may have given that he last saw him wearing such. Quickly, Spock inserts the reality of his attire and Sarek gives a brief nod of understanding. “ You were about to go training?”

 

“ Sybok promised an thrilling bout this afternoon. I verily welcome it.”

 

Sarek closes his eyes within the dreamscape and with a soft sigh and smile at the rising pulse of Spock’s bloodlust. “ Do not beat him too soundly, safu, I still require his bloodletting.”

 

“ Perhaps I shall save you the trouble of having to wait and collect it for you?” Spock offers, signaling the end of the meld with the growing distance between their thoughts. “ Live long and prosper, your most logical.”


Ending the meld, Spock wipes gingerly at his bloody nose and ears and rips the needle free of his arm. Licking at the small wound he thinks of his brother and what his blood would taste like on his tongue.

Chapter Text

 

“ What the bloody hell are they doing?!”

 

The large guards flanking her palanquin ignore her question and watch their brothers in arms carry on trying to subdue the queen’s sehlat for breeding with that of the King’s in the center of the crowd filled arena.

 

The sight of it is the only things more unbearable than the heat and her brief encounters with the sun as she sticks to the shade her mobile tent provides her.

 

T’Sel places her fork down delicately and leans over towards Nyota’s ear. “ Your Prince wishes to give you your own royal sehlat to own and bond with. Today was chosen by those in the livery to-”

 

“- You can’t be serious!? Spock ordered this to happen? I don’t want one! What use would I have of a Vulcan bearcub? Beside it’s quite clear the female doesn’t want to! Doesn’t any female on this god forsaken rock get a say in anything?!” Nyota spits venomously. She shoves golden platter of fruit and sweets in front of her when T’Sel offers it to soothe her nerves. Sucking at the air through her teeth Nyota sighs and apologies towards her maid.“ My apologies, I’m not cross with you, T’Sel. I don’t want anything else food, sehlat or otherwise. This barbarous behavior has turned my stomach.”

 

“ You need not apologize to your servants, my lady.” T’Sel replies simply but the look in her eye and the softness of her words say much more than she verbal conveys. The eletrostatic field covering the arena fills the air with a low droning hum and the occasional crescendoing zeet as the sand it works to keep out races across it.

 

Those in the stands behind her idly comment on the ‘entertainment’ as the pale female pulls at her reigns and bellows in protest. The guards handling her have a hard go at it as they fight to drag her close to I-chaya but the sow never raises against them. Nyota wishes she would, she wishes she would bat the workers free of their ropes so she could run away.

 

For his part, the old snaggle toothed bull looks all too eager to take Queen Amanda’s Haul-kur (silver) as his own. Upon her approach the large bear like beast chuffed and bellowed in anticipation.

 

Nyota came only to support Spock in his sport of sparring and give T’Sel and the other maids some measure of freedom from having to wait on her inside the chilly chamber rooms. She surely hadn’t come to bear witness to the poor pet being bound and forced under another. She was quite fond of I-chaya and wouldn’t want this event to lower her opinion of him.

 

Since her arrival to the palace he had been a near constant presence in her life, roaming around Spock’s gardens and nuzzling his large, dry nose into her hand in hopes of teasing a scrap of food or a scratch behind the ear from her. The creamy coated Haul-kur was equal parts sweet and silly, a giant bustling mass of silver fur and purring snorts as she snagged random garments and led many of the maids into a merry game of chase, merry at least for her.

 

But here they were now in sharp juxtaposed from what Nyota knows to be their true nature as I-chaya claws at the ground to seize her and Haul-kur groans in protest, trying fruitlessly to get away. Nyota scowls at the scene as the female dug her haunches into the dirt and pulled back against the rope muzzling her snout. The powerlessness she sees in the eyes of the sehlat felt all too familiar and twists her stomach sourly.

 

The petite four like biscuits still in her mouth turn bitter as Nyota watches the Vulcans try and aid I-Chaya’s efforts. Was there no justice anywhere?

 

There was no warning to event before it transpired either. Nyota and T’Sel had been nibbling over the fare and noting the nobles in attendance when the valets rushed to open the doors. T’Sel looked just as perplexed as her lady as they watched the livery staff drag out the two sehlats out with a series of ropes and pronged phasers into golden sand of the arena. As soon as she’s near I-Chaya sniffs at Haul-kur’s hindquarters and tries to paw her over.

 

At her shrill growling, Nyota rises from her seat and march onto the sand of the arena. The navy blue gown fluttering about her limbs sticks out in sharp contrast to the hot orange sand and pale rocky seating.

 

As tightly fitted as her gown is around her waist and bust, the train and outer robe topping her ensemble billow out like deep, rolling waves of water. She requested the sombre piece in honor of the emperor's poor condition, free of gems and crystals that would make it sparkle in the light of the two suns above like every other gown Spock swaths her with.

 

Instead she wants the dark, muted fabric to remind her of Sarek’s lake that now haunts her dreams and the promise that he made there. Vulcan he may be but emperor is still is with his word as bond. If he is faithful she will soon be free of this place and back in the hollows of her watery world if she so chooses as her own woman instead of the a jailed empress. Soon she thinks ignoring T’Sel’s strangely calm pleading behind her, soon I shall be free, but I shan’t leave things as I happened upon them. Everyone deserves better, those high and low.

 

The wind continues to lift her superfluous material of her sleeves and gauze like veil trailing down behind her back and over her netted hair.

 

A hush falls over the crowd as she makes her way out towards the sehlats and raises her voice like a dagger towards the livery staff. “ Stop it! Stop this madness!”

 

One of the guards from her litter who had followed behind her tries to maneuver her back towards her seat and away from the animals with all the decorum he can muster. “ It is not safe for you to approach the sehlats as they mate.You should return-”

 

Nyota pushes her small hand to his face and then pushes at his sternum. “ If you’re not going to follow my orders or help, get the hell away from me! Hey! You there! Fuck off and give me Haul-kur!”

 

The livery staff pauses in confusion while the sehlat continue their struggle to get closer or further away from each other. Nyota marches up to the closest stable attendant and glares up at his impassive expression. “ Give her to.me.now!”

 

He blinks down at her with his brows slightly furrowing at the middles and glances back at the rest of the stablemen. “ Mistress, I cannot go against the order of our Prince.”

 

Nyota sucks at her teeth and barges around him. To hell with Spock’s orders, she wasn’t here to see animals savage each other for the sake of a gift. She called to each Sehlat and stomped her foot. Both meet her gaze as if seeing her for the first time. Nyota seizes the rope from one of the handlers and clicks her tongues towards Haul-kur. “ Here girl. Pretty lady, come here.”

 

With barely contained relief the silver coated sow bounds over to her and nuzzles her stomach with a groan. Nyota clucks over her massive head, careful to avoid her tusks and strokes her gently. “ There now, no need for all that. I know you like I-Chaya just fine, even spied you two grooming each other in the garden. All of this cub business will come to pass.”

 

At the sound of his name I-Chaya resumes his struggle to get mount Amanda’s pet but Nyota snaps her fingers and shouts at him fiercely. “ And you! Off with you then! She’ll have you when she’s ready! Off to your kennel now! You all see to it he’s placed in the stables and if he does need ‘relief’, you all can see to it manually.”

 

The livery workers look at one another in what she knows to be deliberation and it looks like they were just about to follow her orders when the dreaded deep voice of a certain nemesis calls out from behind her. “ Hoo! What’s amiss? Why isn’t he fucking on top of her?”

 

Nyota sighs with a look of annoyance before turning around with a passive look to her face. “ Your Royal highness, so nice of you to grace us.”

 

Sybok stands before her bare chested and clothed only in black trousers and boots. His chest is dusted with the same dark hair that forms his neatly trimmed beard and trails down his abdomen into the waistband of his pants. His scent is more apparent now with his skin free of his shirt. The smell of smoke and citrus bitters lingers in the air between them as he glowers at her and blinks at her thoughtfully. “ Mean it if you say it, human. What are you doing here out on the arena?”

 

Nyota curtseys - more to busy her hands with not flipping him off - and pets the trembling sehlat at her waist. “ Prince Spock sought to give me a sehlat of my own but I do not wish it.”

 

Sybok huffs with a look of disbelief...or is it contempt, Nyota cannot tell which as he narrows his gaze across the two of them. “ Who are you to deny a Vulcan, common or royal, of anything, human ?”

 

Nyota grinds his teeth and smiles at him more brightly. “ I do not wish the Prince to go through all this trouble for something I can do without.”

 

You could do with a lot less , you ungrateful fuckling.” Sybok hisses through his teeth. Nyota blanches as his words spear her but does not move her person away from the she-beast. A troubling rumble leaves Sybok’s chest as he takes in her small show of defiance. He waits for her to welt and grows more impatient as she continues to stand tall. Nyota knew she was taking a gamble with betting that he would not raise his hand against her with so many onlookers and Spock on his way but she knows with these royals one could never be certain of anything.

 

Still growling at her, Sybok glances over those surrounding them and nods his head towards the head handler. “ You there bring the beasts back to their pins and see to it that one there growing with a cub. I don’t care if you have to tie her to a rack or leave her in his pin for a whole moon’s turning, see her mated.”

 

Nyota’s jaw drops as she shakes her head in shock. “ No! No, Sire! Please!”

 

Nyota rushes her arms around what she can hold of Hual-Kur’s neck and mummers to her gently. With no other course to take however her handlers come forward and obediently usher her away with the ropes. The white sehlat shuffles closer into her embrace, tucking her tail and lolling into the many silken layers of Nyota’s robes but the cowering sounds soon turn to those of pain as the livery workers put their phaser prods to use on her flank. The shock of them hits Nyota as if she’s been struck herself as her fingers glean what little telepathic sensations the she-bear gives off.

 

“ Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting her!” she sobs angerily. “ No!”

 

Nyota tries to order them away while clinging to the sehlat’s pelt but Sybok pulls her off and against his side like she’s nothing more than a roll dog. “ Now now, save your breath, little one. Let’s not let all this raiment and favor go to your head. You don’t outrank me so therefore you can’t overrule me.”

 

“ Stop it, please. Please don’t do this to her!” Nyota pleads, pushing away from his body with her hands at his side. The sehlats are both roaring now, displeased with the turn of events but Vulcans being as they are don’t hurry things along. Both princes order cubs from the royal pet line and so they shall have done, in their most neat and timely manner.

 

“ Cowards! You know she’s just come of age and could go longer before a litter! To hell with all of you!” She shouts and cranes her face away from Sybok.

 

His irritation and amusement pricks and tickles at her palms but his face continues to watch her with a blank reframe. Crushing her soundly along his naked torso, the prince toys with her hair bound in the netting and sniffs at an idle curl that he manages to finger free. She sneers at him and tosses her head away to free her hair from his hold. 

Sybok stares at her with dark, hungry eyes and reclaims the lock with a sneer of his own.“ Cowards you say? Such big talk from such a small and helpless whore. Perhaps if we were to show the Queen mother’s sehlat how it is performed, she might rebound from her anxiousness? What do you say…Oo-hoo-rahhh? Would you like to take her place on the rack with me as your stud?” he growls at her from between his teeth with a small, feral grin.

 

“ You’re far from a stud, your grace.” she hisses with her fingernails digging down into his side.

He shoves her roughly away, leaving her fighting to regain her balance when she sees him closing the space between them once more. Instead of running, Nyota stands her ground and comes nose to nose with the fiend as he towers over her with smirk still lining his face.

 

“ That’s right, be defiant. Saucy, little human whore. We’ll show the sehlat and everyone here how well you are at your work, riding and sucking your way to the top of the throne. I’m next in line though so you’ll have to get through me first, sweetling. So what are you going to do for me, hmm? Suck my cock? Let me fuck you here in the arena since you stole away with everyone’s pre-sparring entertainment?”

 

Nyota purses her lips and glares at him silently. He seems to find it even more humorous that she’s taking herself seriously. Sybok nuzzles her nose with his own and allows a chuckle or two to escape his lips. “ Oh? Quiet now, are we? Not for long...not after I spread you wide before me. Come now , say something dearheart.”

 

Nyota gasps as the foul royal takes her hand and places along the growing length trapped within his breeches. She jerks against him and flinches away from the hand places at her cheek. “ You would let go, your highness! Do not be so forward as to-”

 

Sybok cuts her off with a pointed push against her palm and soft, barbed words. “ You see? I am not so thickset as my brother but my length inspires his envy. Maybe it inspires your hunger to have me touch you in places others could only hope to reach. It’s more than enough to tame a shrew.”

 

Nyota’s eyes widen in shock at his lewd courting. “ I am your brother’s fiancee, your highness!”

 

His hand forces her down the whole obscene length of him as he brushes his lips over her forehead for an unusually chaste kiss. “ You are also my most truculent and winsome subject. It will be as I’ve seen it in my mind, you’ll flutter so sweetly around me-”

 

The arena falls silent as her open hand connects with the hard plane of his cheek with a loud smack. Sybok’s hand releases her on impact but his stormy eyes stay trained on hers. Nothing but the slow, deep inhale that billowing in through his nose and Nyota’s ragged, panting breath through her lips can be heard.

 

Nyota hides her own surprise at her reaction with an indignant glare but if Sybok were to touch her now there is no way she could hide her rising fear with her mind. Even if she were to, the sweaty stench of fear reeks to even the dull power of her own nose.

 

Sybok tilts his head down slowly and blinks at her with a languid lick of his lips. The smell of pre fruit liqueur rises up from his mouth and burns her eyes. “ My, you are just full of surprises, Ms. Uhura. I’ve never known a whore, human or otherwise, to turn tricks like you. You know exactly how to excite me.”

 

Quick as a flash his hands lock around her waist and Sybok pulls her forward until his lips graze her ear. Nyota trembles in spite of her attempts to be even-keeled and gasps harshly when he kisses her softly on her ear. When his voice comes next, it’s rich and smooth and burns her like brandy. “ When I fuck you...and I am going to fuck you, I will take you in a way you shall never forget…”

 

Nyota swallows down her fear and uses the audience to her advantage once more. It will be either the most brilliant or stupid thing she’s ever done. Drawing her face back to look him in the eye, Nyota scoffs and breaks into laughter. “ You? Fuck me? Hahaha! You’re antics amuse me to no end, your highness! You are getting quite good at Terran humor, despite your protests otherwise. I do not think your brother would find your jokes all that funny however…” she says tapping a finger onto her lips.

 

Sybok draws back further, looking her over for a tell or clue to her mood before huffing at her with a smile. “ No, I suppose Spock would not find it ‘funny’. And in the future neither will you, human.”

 

“ Are you threatening my intended?”

 

Sybok turns towards his brother’s voice and Nyota nearly buckles under the wave of her relief. It’s short lived however as she takes in Spock’s appearance. “ Spock, your face...it’s bleeding.”

 

She wanted to be more clear as to what she means but she’s at a loss. Drops of emerald tremble from his ears while green riverlets line his face from his nose and mouth. In spite of the blood, Spock does not at all look as if he’s been pummeled. As smooth and pale as ever, his hot skin is free of bruise and blemish.

 

Spock glares at Sybok, almost knowingly and brushes away her alarm.

 

“ Nothing a wash in my dresser basin will not see to, Nyota.” he replies quickly while rubbing his finger underneath the bulb of his nose. It only seems to make the bleeding there worse.

 

“ What in the e’shua’s name happened to you, my brother?” Sybok asks reaching out to cup Spock’s cheek.

 

Spock pushes his touch away with the back of his hand and continues to stroll forward to where Nyota stands trying to contain herself. “ Only an enlightening conversation with father. You know how those go.”

 

“ Well yes…” Sybok says furrowing his brow in concern. “ Is he in that foul of a mood. It looks like he bopped you from the inside out.”

 

“ He did.” Spock sighs accepting Nyota’s touch as she dabs her fingers against his ear with a silken handkerchief drawn from her sleeve. “ However his mind was just as fairweather as it could be.”

 

“ What ever was he so crossed about?” Sybok presses drawing alongside him.

 

Spock ignores his worried expression and gazes down at his bondmate’s shaking form. Lighting a hand at her neck, he soothes her nerves and caresses her with his thumb. Nyota sighs and feels her shoulders loosen their tightness. She glances up with a quick smile of gratitude and continues to clean his face.

 

“ Seems Father was sore at me forcing Nyota onto my lok every time it rose to salutation. After reviewing the extent of my enjoyment and her distress time and time again, he thrashed me and swore me to never do so again. Though that won’t be easy T’ash-vel I will reign myself in for your health and happiness.”

 

She smiles as his sincerity passes between them and settles her further while Sybok sneers at both of them. “ Fancy as she is, she’s still human. It isn’t rape if you’re a royal. She’s at our disposal.”

 

Nyota stills her hand as Spock whips his head around and pushes her back towards her palanquin. “ You have piqued my temper far too much.”

 

Nyota stumbles back and watches as her husband extends his arm and takes a gilded lipra a nearby guardsman places into his hand. “ I don’t have to know what you said to her or how many times you’ve moved on her in the past but I’ll see the spear up your rear just the way you like it for your transgressions.”

 

Sybok curls his lip into a snarl and accepts his own lipra. “ You can’t be serious. All this, for her? A human wh-”

 

“ She. Is. Mine.” he growls, aiming his lipra’s crescent blade at his brother’s throat. “ Not anyone else’s with money to spare or power to excise. Mine.”

 

Sybok scoffs at Spock’s declaration with a roll of his eyes and knocks his lirpa to the with his own. “ Yes, yes. Claims, honor, bonds and such. Now let’s get onto the part where you stick it to me heh.”

 

Nyota races to the palanquin and reclaims her seat with T’Sel fretting over her hair and gown. “ My lady, you shouldn’t provoke the crown prince or have him touch your person.”

 

Nyota shakes her hands off and stares at her in disbelief. “ How was I to ward him off exactly, T’Sel?”

 

T’Sel gives her a blank stare and blinks back to where the princes are squaring off. “ My apologies, my lady. It is as you say. Your ka’tra often puts you in harm’s way but one cannot say you are not without integrity.”

 

“ Let us not speak of integrity or honor.” Nyota mumbles numbly, fingering along the trail where Spock’s hand had caressed her earlier. “ I discredit myself with loving one fallen from grace.”

 

“ He is steadily earning it, my lady. His highness has changed a great deal for your favor.”

 

Nyota palms the bloodied silk before tucking it into her sleeve. “ He should have never sought it.”

 

She glances out onto the sandy field and blinks away the traitorous water in her eyes and huffs angrily. He and Sybok dart and dance around each other with clouds of pale yellow rises up around their feet. Spock holds his own with a wicked looking glare to his face but his head is listing to the side as if he has a headache. What did Sarek do to him? “

 

She more than welcomed his challenge against Sybok’s terrifying promises but not if it meant his life in exchange. He should have never done this so soon after his bleeding and punishment or whatever it was with their father.

 

“ Spock, you fool. Don’t you dare die.” she whispers to herself, clutching the handkerchief.

 

Sybok blocks a downward swing and grins up at Spock’s grunting face. “ This is fun! Isn’t this fun, Spock-kam? Oh, I’ve missed this!”

 

Spock jumps backward and rotates his lirpa with the club head up for us. “ I do not desire it but I shall kill you this day.”

 

Sybok smirks and cocks his head to the side as he switches his lirpa’s weaponry as well. “ That makes two of us. But you are right that someone might die this day. I’ve got a surprise for you~!”

 

Spock pauses in confusion over his brother’s words just as a spine tingling growl reaches his ears. He turns his back on Sybok to see the guards up in the stands and the sleek green figures emerging from the arena’s dungeon doors.

 

The closest of the five beasts stares at Spock with its dorsal crest held high and its wide, diamond-shaped nose sniffing loudly at the air. Its movement is fluid over the sandy plain, with its muscles quivering in anticipation of the hunt beneath it’s velvety scaled skin. The large green ears crowning its head swivel and perk back towards Spock, no doubt zeroing in on his breath and heartbeat.

 

The agile, egg laying quadruped was known to stick mostly to caves and caverns filled with smaller beasts and vegetation but every so often it would venture out to explore the dunes or search for its mate should the urge arise. Wandering the desert land in the dead of night you could pass right by one and be none the wiser. That is, if the le’matya allows you to do so unharassed.

 

To see not one but five surrounding him now as he still labored hard to recover from receiving his father’s ‘gift’ with his malicious brother he had just threatened just seconds before felt like the universe was conspiring against him.

 

Why is it as soon as he tried to stave off his injurious ways that the universe decides to counterbalance it with onslaught of spiteful bitchiness? It’s not logical but fuck the cosmos and all it stands for Spock thinks bitterly as he tightens his grip on his weapon.

 

Spock eyes it warily but very little can be read from the animal’s body language as paws closer with its meter long tail wiping behind him. Spock ignores the others circling round to inspect Sybok as his irritation with his brother continues to mount. What a delusional trollop Sybok was to pull such a stunt; he was going to get them both mauled to death.

 

Spock inhales sharply and hisses back at his brother without taking his eyes off of the hunter stalking towards him to berate his poor judgement. “ You brought a wraith of le’matya to spar against?! Have you actually gone mad?!”

 

Sybok comes up behind Spock and puts his back against his, humor tingling bright and giddy at the touch of his skin. “ I wanted today’s sport more exciting. I thought you might like it….and that you wouldn’t have been in a fight beforehand. Do be careful. I wouldn’t kill you baby brother but they might…”

 

Spock lunges forward as the le’matya leaps into the air. Vaguely he hears Nyota voice angrily commanding those around her to assist him or stun the yellow striped reptilian felines but his focus lies on the beast hurdling down from the air.

 

With a measured swing, Spock knocks the le’matya down and to the side, only to be toppled by the next one who had been jumping up behind that one.


Nyota rises from her seat and finds her voice stolen as she watches the animals poisonous jaws clamp down over Spock’s shoulder. T’Sel restrains her in a rare embrace, keeping her lady barred within the palanquin’s shaded platform as the blood stained silk square flutters down to the ground.

Chapter Text

Nyota startles backwards, nearly tripping on her train at the nude sight before her. “ Oh! Sire!”

 

She came to the water gardens in hopes of finding Spock there in the ornamental pools as he convalesced but instead found his nude brother sunning along the bank like some fable sea dragon.

 

With skin sun-kissed and dappled with drops of water, he looks as if he’s glowing from within. The long, lean cut of his figure put on a breathtaking display of masculine beauty as he lounged half out of the lavender water along the jade green bank. He had been dragging at the long neck of a churchwarden-style pipe when he caught sight of her coming closer.

 

Her certainty that he must have been Spock went nil as she drew closer and realized the cut of his hair was all wrong but by then it was too late and the bearded fiend had spotted her. She tears her eyes away with an irritated huff as his lok stirred and stretched where it’s resting across his thigh. It looks even larger than it felt when he ran her hand across it and the remembered offense further colors her cheeks. Lewd lout ...

 

Again she curses the horrid creature that is the crown prince within her mind but does not do it aloud with no one there to protect her. The day on the arena taught her a few things, one of which was Sybok is a mad dog. The nature of a typical canine for the most part is predictable. When rabid, however, feralness lurked right beneath the surface. Sybok doesn’t seem to choose his madness so much as he snaps from the weight of it.

 

Nyota backs away into the large but sparsely populated red foliage of the pool’s bank and curtsies with a deep but swift bow. She hurries her words as she drops the sides of her robes back down to the ground.

 

“ My pardon! I did not mean to intrude upon your solace. I did not see you here!” she sputters, covering her eyes.

 

Sybok grins softly and blinks at her languidly as if in a trance. With thick, curling smoke pouring out of his mouth and hums and gestures towards her with his pipe. “ And yet you have.”

 

She watches him from underneath her lashes as his eyes trace her face and figure. Heat races across her cheeks as she saw him grow stiffer in response. Drawing at his pipe, Sybok rolled onto his belly and exhaled in a pale blue cloud of smoke. Sand from the bank rode up along his hip and backside as it clung to the wet tanness of his skin. Daring a look at his face Nyota caught sight of him smiling at her surreptitious glances.

 

“ Fancy what you see, Nyota? You may also touch if you wish?” he offers, rolling over again onto his back. She inhales sharply at the sight and swallows with a vigorous shake of her head.

 

“ A privilege and an honor I am sure but I must decline your blessing.” she huffs, casting her gaze away from his reclining form.

 

Nyota watches as his nose flares and scents the air with an lop sidded smile. “ You still smell as you did that day in the colonnade. Enticing.”

 

He runs his tongue over the corner of his mouth and release a sigh that’s more of a purr. She can’t tell for sure but the pipe and his strangely mild demeanor leads her to believe the crown prince to be heavily under the influence. Of what she can’t tell, but the smoke smells like the old interior of out-of-date Vulcan survey ships.

 

What was it again...trillium D, I believe , she thinks as she watches him stretch along the bank like an overgrown house cat that caught the canary. He’s still eyeing her intensely but she can’t discern his mood which worries her. Yes, it was very much like their time in the colonnade. Perhaps this time she could get away without him touching her.

 

Curtsying again Nyota takes a step back towards the crystal archway leading to the palace. “ With your pardon I’ll take my leave. I was looking for Prince-”

 

“ Prince you say? Well look no further, young dove. Here is your Prince.”

 

Nyota bites her lip and fingers the embroidery at her sleeve. “ Again, your highness is too kind but I wanted to see to Spock’s health-”

 

“ Come lay beside me, beautiful one.” he interrupts, pawing at the green sand below him. “ Attend me.”

 

Nyota’s eyes widen in dismay and search about for the excuse to free her from his request. “ Sire, my clothes...they will get wet-”

 

“ If you wish to remove your garments it would be alright. It will make you easier to smell and more tantalizing to look at.” he says flatly though his eyes hold his amusement. Smoke slips from his mouth as he parts his lips with a grin, staring at her hungrily. Nyota flounders at the gesture and Sybok seems all the more enthused to have her near. Why could she not just say no and why could he not bless her with heeding it?

 

With a smoldering look to beckon her over, Sybok exhales through his nose and hums at the sensation running through him. “ I’ll share with you..." he sighs wiggling the pipe between his fingers, " though I think it will have little effect on your biology. Pity. It feels quite lovely…Hmm, but there are other ways I could share…?” he says flicking his wrist and waving his fingers about. “ I’m not selfish like my baby brother. I know how to give, fickle Terran.”

 

Nyota stays rooted in place, unwilling to come any closer when Sybok’s narrows his eyes at her in a near scowl. “ Shall you come here or shall I make you. Come. Here... ?”

 

The dual meaning of his words is not lost on her as he lok twitches stiffly against his belly and Nyota reluctantly makes her way over towards him. Stepping into the water, her feet are warmed by its heat as much as they are cooled by the wetness in jarring juxtaposed.

 

She continues to ruefully submerge her feet into the pond while clinging tightly to the bell of her robes when she hears Sybok make an alien noise of irritation. Perhaps she’s not going fast enough to his likely because Sybok fixes the pipe between his teeth and pulls her down against him. “ Come now, in you go. It’s just water.”

 

His arms shoot out from their passive position and lock firmly around her. She only has time to inhale and blink before she’s swept off her feet and into the pond.

 

Nyota squeals and shouts in protest as the water below rushes up her gown in a noisy splash. “ Sire ! Please I- Oh, you fiendish scoundrel! Hands off my-OH! Your highness, if you do not unhand me right this-!”

 

He grins at her angry tirade and moves his hands down to her bottom for a hearty squeeze. “ Or what, little sha’mi ? You’ll continue your angry bleating? Oh...maybe you’ll fall in love with me? That must be terrifying thought for you? In love with two princes, one of which is devastatingly handsome as much as he is modest...and then Spock.”

 

Nyota huffs angrily at him and tries ineffectively to move his hands from her rump. The heat of his body turns the gentle warmth she felt from the water earlier, chilly as he holds her closer in his arms. He’s sniffing at her again in that annoying way that Vulcans do. She considers and rethinks flicking her finger against his nose. “ Like that could ever happen! Unhand me you brute.”

 

“ I wouldn’t so don’t waste your breath, human. But it is a terrifying thought isn’t it? Well it would be for me...if I was scared of you or love. Subjecting oneself to fear is illogical as being in enthralled by love.” he says in a near scoff. He puffs at his pipe and releases a stream of smoke before speaking further.

 

“ As next in line I need to exemplify the epitome of Vulcan life and culture but there’s so much that pulls at my curiosity. Spock had always conducted himself admirably and then you came along and...changed him. All this talk of love and devotion, it confuses me. How could he fall prey to emotion? Of all the Vulcans...I never would have thought and yet, you Nyota Uhura did the impossible.”

 

“ Before you Spock only cared for others with me being the closest bond he had. You outshine us all now, like some freak of nature. A female of magic and charms. Hmm but how am I, a Vulcan prince, to know whether loving you wouldn’t be worthwhile?” He searches her gazes and hums at her shocked expression. Shifting the pipe with his teeth and his lips he continues to ponder aloud. “ Would you like that? For me to love you like my baby brother does?”

 

Nyota jerks in his hold and scoffs in disbelief. “ You’ve truly lost your mind. What madness are you talking about? I want no part in your mind games. Release me to go to my intended.”

 

“ Tsk tsk, who said I was playing games, Nyota? You think from my demeanor that I jest with you but as with Spock, I am always serious…” He leans up swiftly with his eyes set on hers, startling her back away from his face as he makes to kiss her. His hands leave her as she does so and has her crashing down into the pond with a noisy splash.

 

Nyota hold her breath as the water spills over her and flails to bring herself up. The weight of the water with Vulcan’s gravity combined with that of her gown has her feeling as if she could possibly drown in the shallows. As embarrassing as it would be, Nyota can’t think of anything outside of burning of her lungs and the sting of her nose. Just as she begins to struggle towards the surface, Sybok curls himself around her and brings her up out of the water.

 

Nyota gasps loudly at the air as he sets her down on the bank and lays down at her side. He watches her curiously as she coughs up what water came in through her nose and blinks up at the sky. Sybok retrieves his pipe and takes a long drag as she continues to regain her composure.

 

“ You are quite fragile, Nyota Uhura. How is it you are able to survive my brother but nearly fall victim to a lily pond?”

 

Nyota rolls her eyes and starts to roll away at his rude joking when his hand comes over her shoulder and stops her. She watches in horror as his hand pins her place and his leg swings over to straddle her lap. His weight remains braced on his knees and the balls of his feet but it’s not as if Nyota could escape either way.

 

Her robes waving gently in the lavender water as she lays half submerged beneath him and tries not to draw anymore attention to herself. The hairstyle her maids had so painstakingly taken care to construct flutters around her head in ruins as nothing more than wet, wavy curls. Sybok watches the locks as the float along the surface and glances back towards her face. “ Hmm, aside from the water could you survive my brother’s fire? I think not...but you’ve proven me wrong time and again. Then again, there is Spock’s jealousy…?”

 

Her heart threatens to leave her chest as his brings his face closer to her with a pointed sniff. He exhales slowly across her and studies her through the smoke. “ I do not think things would go well for you if I were to make off with your heart. What do you humans call it? Ah yes, a crime of passion...in a fit of jealous rage he’d snuff you out leaving me with Spock and one less problem.”

 

His hand leaves her shoulder and trails over towards her neck, dragging his fingers in a torturously slow glide across the length of it. He stops midway on the third time down and wraps his fingers around her. Nyota feels his mental pleasure in it as well as his physical arousal. “ Of course I might subject myself to ‘heartbreak’ and have my emotions lead me to fratricide but I would have to see you avenged, after all. But that’s nothing a little meditation and healing wouldn’t cure.”

 

Nyota slows her breathing and quiets her mind to bar his entrance. Sybok feels the change in her at once and tilts his head like a befuddled hound at its master. She brings her hand to his without breaking her concentration and pulls it off and away. It’s mostly because he allows it but it’s clear he can’t quite puzzle why she suddenly feels so distant.

 

She can’t do it for much longer though, she feels herself lightheaded and dizzy from the strain of keeping him out. When she is free of his touch, Nyota mentally exhales in relief and speaks up towards him evenly. “ If you were to ever love me, your Highness, I would make sure you rue the day you did.”

 

Sybok’s mouth flash a quick smirk along with a muffled chuckle. “ Don’t tempt me.”

 

“ I’m not tempting, I’m telling you, your Highness. I will ruin you.” she assures him. “ Do not think that I’m so simple. You don’t know the half of me.”

 

Puffing at his pipe as she threatens him, Sybok looks at her somewhat blandly. “ I do enjoy it when you get so full of yourself. So much of you is predictable but the rest remains a mystery.”

 

“ What do you wish to know, your highness?” she asks quietly. “ There’s no need for subterfuge. Just ask.”

 

He mouth quirks into a small smile and he chases her hair with a finger in the water. “ Where’s the fun in that Uhura? Why not figure things out for myself?”

 

She swallows nervously as he brushes the sand from the hair along his torso and the thick patch above his lok away and draws again at his pipe. “ Tell you what, my sweet, Terran thorn. I shall save my questions and discoveries for a different day. I have yet to visit my father and he is in need of my blood and my company. Do try and stay alive. You’re too entertaining to die yet.”

 

He raises up out of the water and Nyota tries and fails to not take in the view above her. Sarek’s sons had no business looking this...this...grrr. As soon as he step away, Nyota drags herself up and contemplates shedding most of her robes. The water the cloth holds weighs her down to the point of discomfort.  There was no way that she would be doing so in front of the crown prince.

 

She may have no choice in the matter as she fights the many layers draped around her. Her bodice hangs the most heavily, threatening to release her breasts from their confines as it chaffs along her torso.

 

Sybok stretches out his arms above him with a long, silent yawn in her direction. Nyota doesn’t know if it’s meant to display his canines but she can’t avoid seeing all three sets of above and below. After a moment the prince shakes himself like a dog and reaches out his hand towards the pavilion off the the right.

 

Like frightened mice, maids and butlers scurry out from their cover and rush to dress and ready his person for being received by the emperor. Some of the glance over to where she stands sodden and dripping down onto the ground but none of the chance bringing attention to themselves by attending to her. She takes no offense and tries to escape his notice as well but he clears his throat and calls her once more.

 

“ Little human. Take care with my brother, he’s quite fragile after the poisoning. Don’t arouse his lust or ire, allow him to rest. I would hate to try you for dominicide. I have other plans for you.”

 

Nyota bows heavily under the weight of clothes and bobs her head. “ Your highness.”

 

Even as she walks away she feels his eyes boring into the back of her head long after she’s reached the archway leading to the palace. Instead of marching straight to Spock’s chambers, Nyota races towards her rooms and strips herself of her clothing.

 

His scent is all over her, in her hair, on her clothes, clogging her nose and she can’t stand it any longer. If she never smells that crazy bastard Sybok again it would be too soon. Her maids ask no questions as she quietly orders for a bath and brand new robes.

 

It’s nothing extravagant this time, just two thin robes over a light purple shift with her hair thickly plaited down her back. When T’Sel frets too much, Nyota acquiesce to a few hair ornaments and a finer set of slippers than the Terran silk ones she originally placed on her feet.

 

As T’Sel fixes the bright, star like gems along her braid, Nyota sits staring at the her foot as it bounces up and down on top of its mate. “ T’Sel, I wish to bring Spock a token of my goodwill and affection when I visit him. I know it is traditional to bring someone in poor health a piece of fruit as a symbol of healing but as my intended and a prince...I do not know what to bring him.”

 

T’Sel stops her hands above her and makes an odd sound of thoughtfulness. “ I will see to the gift, my Lady. Let me finish your hair and I’ll have you on your way soon enough.”

 

Nyota nods in relief and sighs as she listens to her maid order about the others in search of a tea she’s never even heard of.

 

As soon as T’Sel finishes fastening the last of her garter clips, a willowy maid named T’Jol extends a small, golden pouch out towards her hands. “ My Lady.”

 

Nyota accepts with a nod and a smile and tugs lightly at the bronze string. She peers inside and takes a tentative sniff and sighs at the smell. “ Oh, that’s lovely. What is it?”

 

T’Jol looks pleased with her success with her eyes blinking down at her brightly but T’Sel answers for her. “ Ch’aal. It’s a spice tea from out beyond the forge. It only grows there and is especially rare to find. This much here is enough for a king’s ransom.”

 

Nyota twists her face in surprise and looked back down at the crumpled, violet leaves in disbelief. “ That much? And how is it that I, or you, could come into possession of such a rare delicacy?”

 

T’Jol tilts her head and speaks out of turn which earns her a hard glance from T’Sel. “ My Lady, you are the Prince’s intended.”

 

Nyota shakes her hand away at T’Sel’s attempt to cow T’Jol and rises from her vanity chair. “ I suppose I am. If you would excuse me, I would see to him now.”

 

“ Of course, my Lady.” they answer in unison, bowing their heads in deference. Nyota quietly makes her way to the door, turns down towards his wing. She turns soon after to find her maids and two sets of guards trailing behind her in a semi-formal procession.

 

She huffs through her nose at the attention it gathers from the court and masses at large but reminds herself to be grateful for the illusion of protection she gains. Though none of them could stop Sybok, they could at least slow him down enough to make an escape.

 

She approaches Spock’s massive chamber doors and greets the guards standing out front with a grand curtsey. “ I wish to see my Prince and intended.”

 

Neither guard say a word but answer her by opening the broad, gilded doors to welcome her in. There her procession stays just within the foyer, taking in the heat of his rooms and chatting among themselves.

 

Nyota continues on, down towards his chamber, through the gaping, marble maw of the hallway until she reaches his bedroom. Slow and silent, Nyota pushes open the door to take in the room. It’s empty of Vulcans with the exception of her own, who lies still in the middle of his ridiculously large bed.

 

His unresponsiveness unnerves her and sends her over towards his side. When she reaches the bed, Spock still remains limp and unconscious beneath his duvet. Wind blowing in through the sheer, red curtains ruffs his fringe but doesn’t disturb the peacefulness of his face. Nyota leans closer with a small frown and studies his appearance.

 

She’s never witnessed him sleep so deeply before that he wouldn’t wake at the sound of her entering his rooms. Though he and his brother had bested the le’matyas with no more trouble than his initial wound, Spock had fallen unconscious soon after the last green beast had been slain.

 

Nyota had initially thought him dead and stood in her palanquin, numb and dumb-struck. Everything rushed about her while she felt stuck in time, shaking from the nervous jolt of adrenaline. Overwhelmed was the best way to describe her emotional state but there were other things that shook her as she stared out onto the blood stained sand.

 

Sybok’s wild-eyed stare as he cleaned his blade, barely registered as she thought of her own mortality. She had been cautious but not nearly enough. The more she tried to shake the Crown Prince’s attention the more intent he became in focusing upon her.

 

Whether it was Spock, her or the both of them he wanted, Nyota was clueless but she hadn’t thought to protect Spock from his own brother. And why had he shown up bleeding as he had? As the guards carried him off for the physicians to exam it, her body moved of its own accord following behind them.

 

She had to see for herself that he was dead, know for certain that the poison put an end to him as the valets and masters of medicine fussed over his person. When the king’s medical master declared him alive, the strength left her legs and left her sliding heavily against the wall.

 

Alive. He was alive. No matter how grave his condition, they both still had a chance to see themselves off of Vulcan and back onto Terra. Academy of Sciences be damned, neither of them could stay here and ensure their safety. Favored as she was, Sybok and any number of court members and waitstaff were watching her. With Spock in such grave condition, it was up to her to she them off planet as soon as he was stabilized for transport.

 

Day after day, she went to see if he had regained consciousness but each check in and subsequent report from T’Sel had come back with no progress. It was only today when Spock’s butler came to call upon that she heard that he had awaken and requested to see her at the ornamental pools.

 

Arriving to the pools to stumble across the nude Crown Prince had been quite the rude awakening but also telling as far as his reach. Spock, slumbering as he was, looks as if he had never roused as the Butler informed her he had. As a general guide, Vulcans do not lie but they were masters of half truths. Add to that the royal’s power of mental influence and Nyota had a predicament on her hands.

 

The only thing she had to reconcile his falsehood and her run-in with the crown prince is the rumored power Sybok had at influencing others. Had Sybok once again lured her into his presence well away from prying eyes or was something else afoot?

 

Sighing down at the sight of her fallen Vulcan, Nyota feels her middle stir and her chest tighten. He was often times harsh, unnecessarily so but he was prepared to slay his own brother to see to her safety and honor. As much as she reviles the Vulcan empire and those who enforce it, Spock had seen to crawling his way into her heart, much like a worm ruins an apple. She despises his attention as much as she adores it.    

 

“ Spock? Spock…” she calls him gently from where she leans upon the bed. He does not stir and continues to breath evenly with his chest rising and falling under the cover of his sleep tunic. Strange…

 

Her mouth goes dry as she reaches out to shake his shoulder, softly so as not to startle him. “ Wake up. I have a gift for you. Please.”

 

Panic wells up in her chest as he goes on sleeping and sends her crawling onto the bed. Even her unbalance wobble across the covers doesn’t rouse him and she starts to fear the worse. Had Sybok distracted her from being at his side? Did he feel Spock’s katra slipping away and kept her at bay with threats and childish groping?

 

Her breath hitches in her throat as she reaches out to shake his shoulders, followed by his face. “ Don’t you do it! Don’t you dare die on me, you-”

 

The moment her hand connects with the skin of his cheek, Spock reels up and pins her to the bed. She feels the pinch of his teeth near her throat when, he pauses and sniffs her. From the single finger near her neck, Nyota senses his confusion and foggy memory. He had been in a trance...healing...and the scent of his brother triggered his alarm when she touched his face. A pointed sniff and the alien sensation of her mind held the conclusion of his attack at bay...but something felt wrong…?

 

Spock gathers her up, with a little less gusto than usual and nuzzles her face. “ Forgive me.”

 

Nyota turns her face and kisses along his jaw as she tries to settle her nerves. She had never seen him in such a state, especially towards her. “ Think nothing of it.”

 

His face is hidden from her view as he runs his hand down her back. “ You have bathed but you reek of him .”

 

Nyota sighs and plays with the tunic strings at his chest. “ He played me for a fool. I sought you at the pools and found him there instead, smoking and bare as the day he was born.”

 

As piqued as he is, Spock’s amusement at her words tickles her side. “ Sybok never was one for clothes.”

 

Glancing back down at her, Spock cups her chin and lifts her face towards him. “ Did he hurt you?”

 

Nyota takes a hold of his hand and runs her fingers over the back of it, to soothe him. “ Only my sense of security.” she says honestly, as she recounts her time there. “ I want to go,...no, we need to go, Spock. It’s not safe.”

 

Spock tilts her head and plants a plush kiss behind the shell of her ear. The emotion behind it nearly blinds her to reason but he thankful keeps the topic. “ Go where and do what, Nyota? It’s not safe anywhere.”

 

“ Your brother- he means to ruin us, ruin everything and I don’t want either of us to be a party to it.” she fidgets as Spock continues to ply her with kisses both Terran and Vulcan. “ I don’t know what he wishes to do exactly but the farther we are from him the better.”

 

“ You think distance will keep you safe of him?” Spock murmurs against her ear. “ That his reach and ships stops just outside the gravity well of Terra? You know better than that, ash-vel.”

 

Nyota huffs and cups his face with a pointed squeeze. “ He means to hurt us and not just in a conventional sense. He’s mad, in every meaning of the word. I shan’t stay here like a sitting target while he devises ways to twist our minds and lances arrows through us!”

 

Her earnestness gets Spock to pause long enough to regard her. She knows Spock’s right about Sybok’s influence beyond the palace but what was the use of sitting here, waiting in the court do for them other than make her more anxious?

 

Spock blinks at her with tired eyes and sighs at her worried face. He still looked ill and paler than usual and the muscle around his neck tics erratically. Was it the poison or whatever his father did to him just hours before the le’matya attack?

 

“ Spock...what happened to you? Are you dying? You...your face...you’re not yourself?”

 

At that Spock sighs and makes a small inhuman gesture that she interprets to be a shrug. “ Nyota. You won’t have to worry about my brother much longer. Once my health is regained, I can fully guarantee your safety. My father-”

 

“ -is dead!”

 

The pair flinch and gaze over towards the doors to where a dazed and bloodied Sybok stands crookedly. The earlier sensation of wrongness that Spock felt earlier returns and blossoms into full blown queerness.

 

Sybok stares at them with bloodshot eyes and repeats himself once more. “ The emperor has died and been hereby replaced by his heir apparent.”

 

Spock feels vague and distant in her hand as much as a human would but Nyota feels awashed in emotions. Her heart drops along with her stomach as the air leaves her lungs with a stuttering woosh.

 

Sarek...is dead? When? How? But he had been on the mend! She looks at Sybok’s peculiar expression and the tube dangling from his arm. Had he really given his father his blood whilst under the influence? She didn’t think that initial use of Trillium D would be fatal to a Vulcan...only the prolonged exposure of it or continued recreational use. Maybe in his weakened state he subcame to the drug’s effects but she feels there’s something more, something else that she dare not say aloud for fear of their lives.

 

Beyond the doors of Spock’s bedroom, Nyota hears hushed murmurs and strained voices can be heard discussing the news. Further on, towards the main hall, the haunting wail of what she assumes to be the queen mother echos down the halls and throughout the palace.

 

She’s barely registered that Sybok’s still there when he chuckles quietly to himself. She looks up aghast and teary at his frightening face and feels Spock stiffen in grief beside her.


Sybok rips the tubing, needle and all from his arm and tosses it across the floor as if it were nothing. Looking between the two of them, Sybok gives a Vulcan grin with that of his eyes and spreads his arms out before him. “ Long live the Empire. Long live me.”

Chapter Text

She does not want to go. Nyota knows that she must - duty demands her attendance- but she has no more patience left to give in appearing regal and stately. She’s had to be for so long, seen emotionless and present for so many ceremonies. It’s an enfeebling production that feels like it’s never going to end.

 

She presses on however, never shirking her duties. Diligence aside, she is forlorn and tired and it shows on her face. Despite the kisses of Vulcan’s two suns, her typical glow looks dim and ashen and is dotted with pink spot from stress. She misses the Emperor, misses Terra, misses everything she use to be. Feeling safe and as free as she was allowed to be.

 

She sits demurely on her vanity stool while her maids quietly huddle around her, avoiding eye contact while losing focus on the shiny chrome polish of her nail. It feels like they’ve been dressing her up for ages but in the numb fog that hangs over her Nyota knows it’s probably only been an hour or so. It’s hard to think about dressing up for anything with Sarek gone and all of Vulcan in mourning.

 

Going to the cremation this morning had been hardest. She did not want to see him like that. Up on the pyre, Sarek looked as if he would awaken at any moment. When the fire started to lick as his clothing, she turned her face into Spock’s chest and hide her grief.

 

It wasn't fair. None of it was but what was the use of complaining about the death of her Emperor when he had been more than a ruler to her? Most beings hadn’t even seen him in person let alone had the blessing to speak with him as she had.

 

Sarek had gone out of his way to welcome her, aside from T’Pring and possibly T’Sel - if a she could count servants. When it came to their bonding, the Emperor has accepted Spock’s claim readily, if not gladly.

Anytime he happened upon her in the hall of the court, Sarek would stop his whole procession to greet and see after her welfare. Any complaints or concerns he took care of at the very moment they were mentioned. And each time before they parted, the handsome elder would press upon her how much he was growing in anticipation of her ballet performance.

 

All his good natured attention made Nyota wary at first, knowing the twisted viciousness of his sons as she did. Who was to say the apples didn’t fall far from the tree? Nyota soon learned, however, that Sarek could be trusted as much as a Vulcan could.

And then there was their dance...that in itself had been supernatural. At times it had felt as if there had been no separation between them as she danced, just like when Spock-

 

A particularly sharp pull at her hair as T’Sel seeks to bind the braided portions up near her diadem jars Nyota out of her recollection and back to the task at hand as she helps them settle the sheer veil up around her head. The shimmery ruby scarf covers the hair they left unbound trailing down her back in a variety of ringlets and S-shaped spirals. The strands tickle along her bare back as T’Jol helps to hold the veil in place with woven gold lace but Nyota could care less about the whole affair.

 

After a bath that goes longer than her maids wish it to, they pull Nyota from the tub and slather her with a cream that makes her skin shine like gold. A similar mixture is applied to her hair and used to polish the gems they burden her with. Dangling earrings that dip down along her collarbone, hang heavily in a prismatic overkill.

 

Instead of a necklace, T’Sel fits her with a dainty looking ribbon comprised of tiny rubies and more hairpins than she can count, T’Sel sets the maids in waiting to work lacing her braids with golden thread. They finish layer robe after rose gold robe before cinching her waist with a thick belt-like corset. After they’re fitted in place T’Sel takes the time to dip the back of her robes collars down towards her belt to free her back for viewing. Not that it truly matters though with the sheer veil that they place over the top of her obscuring everything but her face, from the waist up. When it’s nearly complete, Nyota feels as if she’s the sun personified, though it dismays her.

 

She was having to wear all this for him and that was the last thing she wanted to do for Sybok. Well, not the last thing but it was on the list among other things. The time had come for her to honor that regicidal bastard as he ascended to the heights of his fallen father. The sooner it happens the better because she has plans of her own, plans that involved her persuading Spock to see her view of things and leaving for the Bajor.

 

The door creaks open and has them all looking up to the face of the Empress’s lady maid. “ Find yourselves ready and in the court by rehkuh wadan (three o’clock).”

 

T’Jol pauses fixing the gold and T’Sel furrows her brows in confusion. “ I thought the coronation was to take place at dahkuh (two)?”

 

“ The heir apparent has moved the time.” the maid answers simply and disappears behind the door once again to leave. Nyota swore harshly in Kiswahili and threw the large golden bracers at her wrists back across the room. “ Kinyesi! What the bloody fuck does he want us to do next?! Lie down? Roll over? Sit up and beg?”

 

“ My Lady, please.” T’Sel begs fitfully. Nyota still feels her amusement and agreement from where she touches her but as soon as she regards it, T’Sel’s telepathy shies away from view.

 

“ You know it’s true! He treats everyone like a fucking dog and we never know if we’ll be met with the hand that feeds us or puts us down...leave those bracers there, T’Jol, I do not wish to wear them.”

 

T’Jol hold the long, cylindrical bands in her hands and hesitates. “ My Lady, there are a gift from the new Emperor. He will see it as an offense if you do not wear them.”

 

Nyota bites at her lips and waves the nervous maid over to replace the bands around her forearms. They were more like shackles than jewelry at this point. She didn’t know what was worse, having to wear them knowing Sybok would preen at the sight of them on her arms or forsaking them and having either her or Spock suffer as a result of it.

 

They’ll be relieved of all this mayhem soon enough. Sybok’s coronation was a mere two hours away but the cold formality of dismissing everyone’s grief has left Nyota tired and angry.

Since Sarek, death Nyota worn nothing more than simple robes of black or white to honor his body’s passing but it felt like and still feels to be too little. Her formal visit to the hall where his ka’tra lies down in the heart of Mt. Seleya had her fitted in a traditional Vulcan gown that was just a few shade lighter than that of the Queen mother’s bronze robe.

 

It had been her first time to the mountain and the monks and priestesses there in had pulled at her curiosity. Amanda, however, arrested her gaze along with along another royal lady she had yet to meet before.

 

The Empress looked...vacant, as if she had been left without a soul to inhabit her. She was so still she took on the appearance of a weeping statue, silently observing the large vase before her. It was all that was left of her husband, an indigo decanter in which his bodiless soul receded until her own could join her. And that was if her soul could be extracted. The healers had never once performed the task but the Empress has pressed that it be done at her passing.

Nyota thinks she can grasp a little bit as to why.

For a hundred or so years, she and Sarek had been together and for that century long romance. Amanda had been the center of Sarek’s world outside of his Empire and he had been her everything outside of Spock. It had to have been a second kind of death having her lover’s life come to an end but what was to be done for her grief?

 

Another character had caught Nyota’s eye, standing off in the far corner of the ka’tra cave in a gown so resplendent it outshone the Empress’s twice over.

 

The Vulcaness was one Nyota had never seen before but had a look of familiarity to her face. Those same dark eyes and long face were just like that of Sarek’s but instead of his golden parlor, this female was a rich, pearly white. Nyota’s also never seen Sarek look anywhere near that melancholy.

 

Her bang was cut sharply right at her brow while the rest of her hair spilled down onto the ornately patterned train of her gown. She was a willowy creature, tall as she was thin and with a waist so small that it even inspired Nyota’s envy. She has nothing to show by the way of breasts really but it didn’t take away an itch of the sensuality she exuded.

 

Hanging off of her shoulders along with her sleeves was the hand of her escort. The rugged, Vulcan knight was striking if only for how starkly he contrasted with his Lady. With a thick beard and rough hewn features, the scar-faced warrior looked like no one who should be gracing the court in service of a gentle female. He oddly suited her though.- his masculinity to the Vulcaness’s fragile looking femininity - was perfect picture of a beauty with a beast.

 

Perhaps sensing her stare, the lady turned to regard Nyota as her guard removed his hand from her shoulder and did the same.

 

Nyota stood spellbound, gazing back at the gorgeous royal before her before the other blinked away and lifted her hand towards her consort. He met her long fingers with that of his own and the two of them left the hall with no sound between them. Tapping Spock’s hand, she gained his attention and leaned over to speak into his ear. “ You did not tell me you had an Aunt.”

 

Spock looked at her quizzically before breaking into a weak lopsided grin. “ Not an aunt. An uncle.”

 

Nyota screwed up her face in confusion before allowing it to unfold in revelation. Silek. She had seen Silek! If she didn’t know the rumors to be true she would have thought Spock to be jesting with her about the female. Everything about him was as soft as it was strong, from the way he parted the room to the way he glanced over his shoulder at her.

 

Nyota wonders now where he’ll be when it comes to the coronation. He would have to be there, he couldn’t just be absent...could he? With Sybok in place, Silek was just as much the Crown Prince as Spock but it appeared neither wanted the title.

In all the processions since Sarek’s death, Nyota had only spotted the elusive royal there at Mt. Selaya and only by chance.

Whatever his choice on title, Nyota was sure that Silek would be smartly dressed in yet another stunning gown and she wished for an opportunity to speak with him. Surveying the bedroom and the maid around her Nyota grimaced in repulsion.

 

Their clothing is in disarray of colors, warm grays for Sarek’s passing and hot metallic hues for that of the new Emperor, Sybok. She has been placed in all sorts of shades of gold and hates every bit of it because it represents the male she most despises. Her makeup doesn’t even escape the reach of the revelry. Rosy golden powder has her cheeks, eyes and lips glowing brightly in the light cast off by the lamps while flecks of the actual metal have her sparkling like she was doused in glitter.  

 

Nyota wishes to join the others in their colors of mourning but as the intended of the Emperor’s brother, she must join in the ‘festivities’ less she be seen as protesting his ascension - even though she verily does.

 

T’Sel checks her over for any minute adjustments and bobs her in satisfaction. “ You look exceptional my Lady. The prince and the Emperor will be sure to tell you the same.”

 

“ The prince alone would be good enough.” Nyota says dryly. She rises slowly from her seat, stiff from sitting for so long and signals for the maids to ready the guards. Spock had seen to escorting her to every ceremony and having her fingers entangled with his. He made it his business to show her as his even as he used her strength and mind to steady himself as he recovered from the attack and his last encounter with Sarek. He still wasn’t himself is she were being honest. He remained distant as he had when they received the news of his father and seemed eerily vacant, much the way T’Pring described him during his time.

 

Spock still went about his duties and saw to the oversight of the new Emperor’s court but he seemed disjointed. He moved just as same, albeit stiffly from the poison’s lingering effects but there was more to his oddness.

 

The first time he took her to bed thereafter had been indrawn and aimless. Nyota had shivered multiple times during coupling from the chill it gave her. It was robotic at best and tiring at its worse, what with the way he held her legs open and plied her with his lok from behind. He watched her silently with his fingers at her mound, demanding her climatic elation in the face of his numbness until her failing consciousness caused him to cease. Even then she could feel his need still beating at him, as he fought to feel something more than stupefying emptiness of where his father had been in his mind.

 

It was like he was missing pieces of himself and he was trying to regain his balance. The first few moments out of his healing trace had gone smoothly enough but as soon as Sybok bursted into the room with proclamations of death Spock had sunken in on himself.

 

Nyota doesn’t know what to think of it really. Spock has told time and again that he has only felt feelings of love for her and her only but as for affinity he must have felt it greatly for his father? If not him then surely his mourning mother. In midst of it all Nyota wishes to give him some sort of normalcy with her presence and have him come back to himself so they could be on their way off Vulcan.

 

On further examination, Nyota thought to discuss bringing Amanda along with them. She could tell Sybok it would help the Queen mother’s grief to be around family and friends on Terra, and she and Spock, were that by extension. Yes, the whole lot of them should go and call their Vulcan residence awash.“ I shall go to Spock now.”

 

T’Sel looks as if she wishes to sigh as she foresees all the hard work of putting her together wasted as soon as Spock gets her alone. “ So early, my Lady?”

 

Nyota favors her with a small smile and shrugs her shoulders while the guards stand waiting near the doors. “ Now or later, if he would have me, no amount of time or your effort, would stop him.”

 

T’Sel nods in agreement though she still looks dejected. “ You speak truth. We shall wait to attend you once you two are ready to leave for the coronation.”

 

“ Thank you, T’Sel. For putting up with both of us.”

 

T’ Sel trails behind her as the walk through the doors and out towards Spock’s wing of the palace and fixes her train as she turns the corner.  “ It is my duty, my Lady and for you, a pleasant one.”

 

Her procession over isn’t overly large but it feels as if the whole court has collectively held its breath at the sight of her. Nyota ignores the attention she gains from everyone in the hall and gazes to the marble and quartz walls beyond. She feels like a fool dressed as she is, shining like some gilded automaton gliding across the floor in what feels like 40 pounds of clothing. The gravity takes no mercy on her arches; they ache with every step she takes on the warm, tiled floor.

 

Just a few hours and I can be rid of all of this she thinks, moving herself ever closer to her prince, just a few more hours and I can sleep and hopefully do so off this wretched planet. As she trods across the court towards Spock’s chambers, most aliens move to the side to let her by. Some Vulcan nobility bow their heads while many others grace her with a grandly gestured ta’al salutation.

 

Nyota isn’t sure how to respond to either gesture and after the twentieth time of being regarded she calls T’Sel to her side. Once there, Nyota leans closely and whispers quietly into her ear. “ Why in the galaxy is everyone paying me so much attention? Is this dress really all that you said it was?”

 

Her maid shakes her head mildly and whispers equally as low. “ You are the intended of the Crown Prince with no Princess or Empress ahead of you. Amanda’s reign is over. Without Sarek at her side there is no one to help her claim and hold a position of power. Sybok will rule but comes to the throne without a bondmate to which he would act as Emperor and consort.

You are seen as less than the Empress but more than the heir apparent to that title. A strange place to find oneself I would think but you carry yourself well.”

 

She takes a breath and bobs her head to a fellow maid and continues to answer her questions. “ To the court it is permissible to nod or blink in acknowledgement if you wish to return their salutations. For those you know more intimately you may reply with a ta’al of your own if you wish.”

 

Nyota whispers her thanks and goes about addressing the other well-wishers as she digests the news. Back to Sybok’s lack of a bondmate mess again. T’Sel was right that it did put her in a bind of sorts, to be so caught in a social limbo but she dare not wish that lout on any soul, living or dead.

 

Nyota still held her suspicions that Sybok was merely biding his time in choosing another bondmate to rule as a bachelor king. She remembered that T’Pring had told her that Vulcan at its heart was a matriarchy and that would leave Sybok handing over his rule to some random Vulcan princess to just walk in and take over.

 

She is sure no one could see that going well or anything like Sybok’s typical behavior. He was the taker, not the other way around. There was no way that Nyota could envision Sybok taking a proper Vulcaness. There was another possibility, one that chills her and knots in her throat. The chance that Sybok would take an alien bride that he could easily manipulate with his telepathy and the mania of his mind. An alien bride that is convenient and close at hand.

 

Nyota mentally shakes herself from the terrible thought and walks a touch faster than decorum would dictate. She couldn’t stay here, she simply couldn’t. By the time Nyota reaches the doors of Spock’s chambers, she’s hyperventilating and trembling beneath veil. “ I wish to see Sp...the Prince. I seek his council.”

 

One of the guards nod and slips between the doors to announce her arrival to the butler as she shifts anxiously from one slippered foot to the other. None of her entourage or his guards question her distress and she half-thinks they might have drawn similar conclusions as to her terror. Half of her wardrobe is comprised of Sybok’s ‘gifts’, all of which she ignored until her maids started draping her with them.

 

It makes her feel own, a feeling of which she’s never felt with Spock, even in his obsession. Unlike his older brother, Spock persuaded her as much as a suitor would, his carnal trespassing aside, and sought to make her a proper wife out of love and affection.

 

It was a startling declaration to her from a Vulcan but it showed Nyota all the more how much he was taken with her. Spock was cruel but at his core doesn’t want to be that way with her. Even in their latest trysts, the moment she became fearful or unwilling to go further with their coupling, he would immediately stop and withdraw himself.

 

The first time it happened she thought it was serendipity but then there was a third and a seventh and a sixteenth and she could no longer deny that her feelings of consent and comfort mattered to him. Shamefully she found herself seeking his bed far more often after the revelation. All of this is far from her now as she stands before his doors and seeks him out for a different kind of comfort.

 

The guard returns and allows them all to enter while her maids and guards leave her to continue on as they take a seat in the foyer.

 

Nyota lifts her skirts and hurries down the hall and runs towards his study. Normally she would go to his bedroom but her feet move of their own volition, guided by the sense that he has to be there. The closer she gets, the faster they move until she's flying down the hallway on the balls of her feet. She yanks at the door, vexing the butler as he sought to do it for her and turned to shut the doors behind her.

 

She holds the handles with a white knuckle grip and exhales with a rattling huff. The room spins around her as she seeks to gain her composure and not collapse onto the floor. Her heart thunders loudly in her ears as it continues to beat palpably against her ribcage and Nyota thinks that the whole palace must hear it. She takes a shallow breath and turns her face towards the interior of the study, finding the male she’s been seeking.

 

There in front of his desk, looking more like a scholar than royal, stands Spock. Grabbed in a trim, fiery red robe, Spock takes on the appearance of a pillar of flame. The garish red is accented by a white gold pin placed at the base of a high collar - three circles with a triangle piercing through all of them- followed by similar colored buttons trailing down to his waist, where his overcoat did a slight bell-flare over his top robe.

The bright shade brings out the sickly hue of his skin, still a touch too yellow to be healthy and free of the venom’s effects. Color aside, he’s far more simply dressed than herself and only has the intricate stitching along the seams and lapels to denote his station.

 

He watches her silently behind a thin pair of spectacles that he had been using to review detailed reports over the recent uprisings on the fringes of the outlying quadrants. News of Sarek’s death had the rest of the Empire hopeful instead of grieving, ready to fight for their freedom of the bloodthirsty, telepathic warriors.

Rebels have been launching any number of assaults on the Vulcan nobility and loyalist enforcing imperial law and governance. Casualties were high on both sides but neither side showed signs of backing down.

 

Thoughts of galactic skirmishes seem far from his mind now as he pulls his glasses from his face and gently places them on top of the PADDs. He exhales quietly and some of the tension  leaves his posture. “ Ash-vel.”

 

Nyota holds her breath as he comes towards her, his stare deep and probing. His thoughts and mind are far from her but the subject of his focus is clear. Slowly he extends his hand and when she places it there he firmly pulls her up to her feet. His eyes rove over her as she stands there wide eyed and shaking.


A tear escapes her eye and his gaze snaps onto the droplet trailing down her face. He lifts a finger to catch it and studies it. The clear liquid orb is marbled with the gold that she’s been plastered with and chills his skin.

 

A hiccuping sniff from her nose distracts him once more and has him now gazing more intently at her eyes. He touches her cheek then, cupping the soft curve of it until she feels him embrace her mentally. She clings to it fitfully and takes his wrist between her hands as her eyes flutter shut.

 

Beneath the hot touch of his flesh is the warm, welcoming caress of what she knows to be his ka’tra, seeking out her own. She readily receives him, more open than she’s ever been to his mental handling and shudders as it envelops her. For the first time in days she feels safe and secure, not only with him but herself as she sheds the defensives meant to keep others out. I don’t know what to do. One wrong move could end me but I have to keep going...there’s no path left behind me...I feel so alone...so disconnect to even myself...

 

In a languid glide, Spock’s fingers unfurl across her face and halt at the first pulling tug of her psi points. A warm numbness spreads across her face as Spock delves deeper inside her ego, quick as he is careful with her human biology. His other hand goes to her waist as he combs through the chaotic jumble of agitation growing in her mind.

 

He has his own thoughts about Nyota’s her misery and state of dress but he wishes to understand her as a Vulcan naturally would - a meld. His perception of her has always been colored by his nature but he recognizes the folly in assuming her reactions would be like that of a Vulcan’s.  

 

As he reviews her anguish, Spock’s hand slips from her waist up towards her back where T’Sel had freed it of the robe’s cover and smooths it up and down the dip of her spine. The longer he takes with his assessment, the more Nyota relaxes, focusing on the slow and steady strokes of his hand across her back.

 

Fright, uncertainty and disquiet all swirl about the thought of his brother and what’s to become of them and Spock gradually withdraws from her mind with a quiet sigh. The hand at her back pauses and joins the other as Spock now takes a single wrist and turns it so her palm is facing up.

 

Nyota watches as he pulls the bracer free and examines the gleaming piece between his fingers. Before she can stop him, Spock closes his fingers over the thin metal and crumples the mass into a jagged ball. Her eyes follow the destroyed piece of jewel as he tosses it haphazardously across the room and retrieves its mate from her other arm to do the same.

 

Piece by piece, Spock dissects her attire and rids her of any bits that carry his brother’s favor and by the end she is only left with half of her robes and her crystal tiara and earrings. Not even her scarf remains as Spock saw to it being torn into shreds.

 

All throughout his task, Spock remains silent, watching each article he manually puts to ruins. Now that he’s finished he looks to her and goes down onto his knees, watching and waiting for her to act.

 

Nyota opens her mouth and hesitates, unsure of what to do for not the first time today. Spock takes pity on her and turns his face for her to take his mind as if she were Vulcan. It would be Nyota’s choice whether or not she wanted him in such a way but Spock’s posturing left him vulnerable and wanting for a change and her in the place of power.

 

Extending her small hands out towards his head, Nyota first skims her fingers through his hair and down around his ears. Spock takes the touch eagerly, trying and failing to hold himself still from rolling into her palms as he keeps the rest of his body immobile. From the mild connection that lights between them, Nyota feels how the feathery sweep of her hands steal over his skin like a string of kisses.

 

Emboldened by his docile reception, Nyota then runs her fingers over to his temples but follows the urge to settle them down along his jaw bone. Spock releases a euphoric sigh and lets his eyes fall shut as he opens himself to her mind where she could not do so.

 

Do you understand why, ash-vel?

 

The vision of the wasted riches lying down around them on the floor flashes between them and Nyota nods timidly as she feels the surging wave of gratitude welling in her chest. Yes. I don’t belong to him.

 

She feels his agreement tickle at her hands and studies the next vision of him kneeling at her feet come over her. And do you understand this, Nyota?

 

Yes. You belong to me.

 

He shuffles closer and nuzzles his face into her hands. Ha. T’du, Nyota. T’ashayam? ( Yes. Yours, Nyota. This one being your beloved?)

 

“ Yes…” she replies, her voice trembling with emotion as she seizes his face more tightly. “...yes, you are.”

 

He falls forward and pulls her closer, burying his face against the cloth covering her stomach. Nyota bites her lip pensively as she stares down at a Spock sees never witnessed before. Fitfully and anxious, the sullen Prince grovels before her with sounds she can’t interpret and a behavior that’s alarming. Was he well? Spock had never been this permissive or submissive about anything or with anyone and yet here he was, at her feet, acting for all the world like a wounded animal.

 

Was he purring...or whining? Listening closely, she thinks it’s both. “ Spock, what troubles you?”

 

“ Nyota…” he rasps, reaching up towards her face. She leans down willingly, angling her face that he could touch her mind easily. The moment he does, she’s shocked still and overwhelmed by the rush breach of his own.

 

She hiccups and whimpers above him but can do no more, as his mind takes hold of her. Something is off, his control is frayed and fragile at best and if she understand him correctly, he’s no better off than she is. “ What?”

 

A vision comes between them, a scene of the healers pressing upon him not to feel strong emotion as he recovers from his injuries...the le’matya’s poison continues to plague him. He’s been moved to mania, subsequently flooding her with the alien sensation of…of….Oh heavens, what is this? He wants her, so bad it hurts him and she calls him her beloved. Not his time, not his fires, but his body is roaring all the same.

 

Vertigo overtakes her balance but Spock’s there in a instant pulling her up against him and into his arms. Nyota’s head lolls forward and Spock stops its progress with his mouth, kissing her deeply, further infusing her with that foreign sense of burning. Something crashes to the floor and shatters against the tile as he buries his tongue into her mouth, but she can’t even think beyond the plushness of his lips and the vibration the growl is his throat sends through her teeth.

 

Her robes fall back around her hips as she hooks her legs around him and tries to catch her breath from the air in lungs. By Surak, she’s never felt so out of body in her life. Maybe the venom has twisted the perception of what he gives her, drawing it up into boiling vapor that bubbles out of her mouth in a hiss sigh of yes.

 

Yes, she belonged to no one but herself, least of all that demon Sybok. But for Spock, her devilish monster, she would belong to him because she wanted to. It wasn’t right, he didn’t deserve it but, inspite of all the reasons warning her away from all things Vulcan, she loved and possibly adored him.

 

The air shifts around them and Nyota’s aware that they’re walking and from the sound of muffled voices, they are passing the others. At least that’s her ears tell her. Her eyes remain close as she focuses on his mouth and all the pleasure she receives from it. Doors slam and there’s something at her back, soft and giving, as she fixed her mouth more firmly on his and runs her fingers through the thick, fringe of his hair. More , she had to have him and she tells him as much though it comes out more as a pleading whimper that’s no proper language that gentle ladies speak.

 

His mouth continues to plunder hers as his hands go and loosen the cloth covering both of their waists. A soft plucking thumps of buttons being loosen is followed by the hot graze of his fingers hooking into the band of her underwear. The cool air that comes up to greet her sex excites her further and has her hips rolling to get to his attention.

 

Spock fumbles however with the fastenings at her garter belt and those at her thighs. He tries to free her legs of the sheer gold stockings with one hand while still maintaining their kiss and meld with his efforts going next to nowhere. He growls in her mouth and tugs, ineffectively at the thigh highs to go down without tearing.

 

The touch of his hands is driving her mad as his lust streams down out of his fingers and wets her to the point of soaking the material beneath her. She’s just about to wail in an unbecoming fit of impatience, when she feels him bump along her center and surge forward to fill her, giving up on the clothing.

 

Nyota gasps up towards the ceiling and claws at his scalp as he pushes deeper still, huffing against her neck as he does so. The fingers he has digging into her temple and cheek numbs half of her face but the rest of her is electric skin and her body is aflame.

 

Hampered by his constitution Spock, pants and bucks against her in an uneven rhythm but she swears it’s the best he’s ever given her and breaks the kiss to tell him so. He says nothing in return as he grabs her ankles to bring whatever he can of her legs over his shoulders to go deeper still.

 

She wails then and cups at her sex, the sensation of being so impaled and open turning her out and twisting her middle. Spock pulls her face over towards his waiting mouth and nips along her jawline as soon as she’s near and sets his free hand to toy with the wet bud between her legs.

 

His flesh is familiar but the psionic energy behind it is new and enormous. One moment she’s mewing and the next she’s clenching around his member as if her cunt could swallow it whole.

Nyota chokes out his name and crushes her eyes shut as the first of many waves hit her and pull her under and in on herself. Spock exhales raggedly and licks at the freeside of her face.

 

... gorgeous, little creature...keep coming

 

As if she has a choice. Spock never ceased in driving his lok inside her and Nyota’s wailing once more before she’s even fully finished with the second one. With his mind so near and his lok so deep, she feels smothered and suffocated and completely saturated with the whole of him. What has he done? It’s always been intense with him but this makes her feel the closest to death that she’s ever been.

I’ve longed for you...just like this...free and wild and willing...the sight of it burns me like the light of alam’ak in mine eyes

 

Nyota sputters for air as he pulls her fully onto the bed and climbs over her like a hungry sehlat. Placing a hand on either side of her robes lapels, Spock pulls open her robes and fastens his lips around the first nipple he can reach, suckling hungrily while ignoring the sheer fabric that separates his tongue from touching the bud.

 

Oh my God, yes! Yes, my beautiful monster, there...touch me there… “ Spock...come back…”

 

He huffs with a pout, being distracted away from his treat and spreads her wide before sinking back in. The two of them groan, Spock between her breasts and Nyota into the thick crop of his hair. His climax has been growing between them, threatening to tear them both apart but like the mad fools that they are, each of them race towards it. Nyota seeks to give him the edge he needs and Spock watches her as she does so, bring her mouth down onto his chest and biting as hard as she can.

 

His eyes flutter wide with a noise of delight and grinds himself to hilt against her clit. “ Ha!”

 

Nyota bodily leaves the body and shrieks at his sudden, unhindered verve. “ Fuck! Oh God…!”

 

Spock hesitates before arriving to a conclusion and thrusts into her now with a purpose. He takes the hands she has clawing at his shoulders and holds the down against the bed as he begins to lose himself. Right at his climax, softly claims her neck with his teeth and pulls himself free of her sheath. Pulse after gushing pulse, spills across the delicate curls covering her mons and pools within her navel.

 

Nyota shivers in his grip and huffs as his hot seed paints her abdomen and wonders to his reasoning behind it. Spock does not move his mouth or mind to answer her as he’s too busy lapping at her skin to be bothered with her confusion. Taking her wrist into one hand he repositions himself to sink back inside her and watches her from above. Nyota whimpers at his return to her center and pulls at his grip. “ Spock…”

 

He pauses his hips but does not leave her. He seeks to claim her again but not to the detriment of her comfort or willingness. As he waits for her to compose herself, Spock removes the hand he has at her hip and rubs the essence he coated her middle with into her skin.

 

Nyota’s eyes shut close while her mouth falls open. Gentle waves of warmth suffuse her as his fingers travel as across the smooth plane of her belly. She feels it now, the meaning behind it all as he lovingly massages his seed along her skin.

Spock is claiming her before they take their leave for his brother’s coronation. Covered with the silly gold she may be but she’s now covered with a good deal of him as well. And Sybok will know it.

 

He releases her hands and places his own at her waist, ready to set a rhythm as soon as she consents to his attentions. The madness that plagued them earlier has her nerves raw and tired  but unfulfilled as he is. Fidgeting across the sheets as she avoids his burning gaze, Nyota gives her hips a pointed nudge against his own.

 

Spock inhales sharply with a hiss between his teeth and tightens his grip as the motion of it rubs seductively along his receding knot. When she peers up coyly from beneath her lashes to look at his reaction Spock’s eyes are closed to hers with his jaw slacken in ecstasy. “ K’diwa…”

He swallows roughly and curses as she repeats the motion with a needy little moan. “ Yours.”

 

Yes …” he snarls, rearing up over her. Almost faster than she can track his hand is back splayed across her face and feeds her the pleasure of have his knot manipulated by the lips of her sex as he drives himself inside her in a hungry pace. “ Mine.”

 

He picks up speed and has the both of them crying out fervidly as he shoves her body across the bed. Nyota feels her head tilt over the edge of the mattress and claws at the sheets in terror of falling. “ Spock!”

 

He huffs despondently as he removes his hand from her face back to her hip and holds her in place to prevent her from moving further away. He gazes down at her and watches her her hair and her breast rise and fall with each one of his thrusts with pride and awe. She can feel that he enjoys nothing more than having her come apart around him but that she should want it too pleases him more each time they couple.

 

He is just bending to take the peak of her breast into his mouth when the door opens and disturbs the privacy of their chamber. Spock’s eye go to the door with irritation etched into his face while Nyota moves to cover herself. “ What in Suark’s name…!?”

 

One by one with echoing footsteps, guards file in and flank the doors, standing rigidly at attention. None of the speak or announce why they have come to his bedroom which only furthers Spock’s anger. Nyota starts to roll out from underneath him but Spock stops her progress by sinking his lok deeper and pinning her shoulder to the bed. “ Explain yourselves.”

 

The captain of the guard bows his head slowly and kneels down onto the floor in deference to Spock’s station. “ Our offense, your highness. His Grace, Emperor Sybok.”

 

Nyota pales and cranes her neck to see Sybok, stepping in from the doorway. “ Shit.”

 

He’s dressed more grandly than she’s ever seen him as he glances from Spock’s face to hers. Piece of polished jade and finely cut diamonds are encrusted into every inch of his emerald outer robe while the white silk ones beneath look so thin that if they were not layered she could see clear through them. His beard is immaculately trimmed with a small bead of sapphire threaded through the hair at the middle in an interesting accent. His skin gleams with a similar golden polish that her maids used as lotion for her though Spock has seen to wiping most of it off or washing it clean with the use of his seed. His ears are still unpierced but the pointed pinnas are topped with diamond studded caps, catching the light with every turn of his head. She hands it to him, Sybok is resplendent...as he is repugnant...

 

Nyota’s critical inspection leaves her open to his admiration and Sybok nearly purrs at her as her nipple slips free of her bra. Her hands fly to her chest and cover the wet cups of her bra while she hopes that her freshly loosen curls are hiding most of her furiously blushing. He lifts a brow and tilts his head to gain a better view of her and Nyota sucks her teeth at him.

 

“ A poor choice in timing on my part, I suppose. Or rather good...Nice to see you, Nyota, dear.”

 

“ Why are you here?” Spock cuts out in a near growl. He hovers above her protectively as much as possessively while glaring at Sybok, who’s openly leering at what can be seen.

 

Sybok angles his head down further to gain a better view of their coupling and he answers Spock as more of an afterthought. “ You’re late for the ceremony.”

 

Spock purses his lips and huffs through his nose. “ Are you going to be this fucking annoying for the rest of your reign? Your coronation isn’t for another v’hral.

 

Sybok sniffs at the air as Spock fumes but doesn’t like one bit miffed by his curses. “ You’re right. The coronation isn’t for another v’hral but my procession to the coronation has already started and you were nowhere to be found.”

 

Spock furrows his brows and sighs as his erection begins to flag from all the distraction away from his earlier task. “  I was not asked to attend the procession, brother.”

 

“ I am asking you now, brother .” Sybok counters lightly.

 

Spock pets at Nyota’s face and she feels the fatigue of the emotional bout of passion start to eat away at what little energy he has. “ I am still busy. Grieving.” he adds, fingering a curl around her ear.

 

Sybok lifts a brow and blinks at him incredulously. “ Grieving you say? And what is it exactly that you do now?”

 

Spock averts his gaze and sends his hand downward to paw tenderly at the underside of Nyota’s breast. “ I am busy relieving it.”

 

Sybok hums with humor and pulls at the silk knot button at his collar. “ Ha ? I would grieve with thee.”

 

Spock lowers himself over top of Nyota and tilts his head in a somewhat reptilian fashion. “ I thank thee but the moment has passed."


Sybok practically rolls his eyes and scoffs through his nose. “ Fuck all, you’re no fun anymore, Spock.” Sybok shrugs, eyeing the two of them with a smug glint to his stare. “ Get up and get dressed. We have to celebrate me.”

Chapter Text

Dressing is easier for Spock than Nyota but her redressing is relatively quick since she had only so many robes left to wear. T’Sel looks as if she wants to curse when she spies her state of undress - though that is solely limited to her disheartened gaze - but she takes up the cause and re assembles what’s left of Nyota’s attire with surprising success.

 

No longer the ethereal looking sun goddess figure that she was garbed as earlier but an alien princess whose charms beg the court’s attention. Still with the color scheme of yellow and red, Nyota looks every bit the belle of the ball as she walks beside Spock, devoid of all the emotion she showed him a hour earlier.

 

Their fingers are wrapped together as they trail behind Sybok and his guards to the throne room, taking comfort in the other’s proximity but feeling distance all the same. As soon as he was dressed Spock took on the same air of indifference he had been displaying since his father’s death towards her.

 

She feels a little as to why. He doesn’t want to draw Sybok’s attention towards her, especially today while he’s full of himself and expectations. His body is also ailing, having pushed its to feed the carnal need and hunger to have Nyota wrapped around him. The longer it goes the more Nyota can feel Spock using his strength to mask his pain and fatigue.

 

For him and their safety she would be good. Not that Sybok deserved any of her polite civility, she would sooner shit on his face than be sincerely moved by him. Spock makes a noise as if clearing his throat but through his fingers Nyota finds his bubbling amusement at the thought of her squatting to do so to his brother. She shakes her head and cuts her eyes to the New Emporer back to her Prince.

 

She wouldn’t have her no-nonsense and garish sense of humor getting her intended in harm’s way. Careful, I’ll behave. Just mind that you do.

 

I always behave, K’diwa. Just as I want to...

 

After what seems like ages, the processional arrives to the throne room and begins to fan out along the edges to flank either side of the impossibly ornate limestone chair.

 

They part ways, Spock following after his brother towards the throne and priestess and Nyota to the galley. Standing behind the marble pew, Nyota searches for familiar faces as the people file in.

 

She’s rewarded with a glimpse of T’Pring in deep conversation with a templar that comes to stand near her pew. A simple exchange of words is followed by the Vulcan princess slipping the blue-eyed guard a beribboned scroll, that she produces from the bell of her robe’s sleeve.  

 

Nyota stills at the sight of it and wonders if it is, in fact, the same scroll she saw T’Pring transliterating on just weeks before?

 

She starts to chew over the thought when the shrill chiming of bells echo throughout the hall. From some hidden corner a gong is rung and the priestess holds up her bejeweled hands for silence.

 

She addresses the crowd in a somewhat nasal voice but when she speaks it calls to all their attention. She first gives thanks to the Gods and to their mighty, fearsome enlightened warrior, Surak, who taught them the nature of the Vulcan soul and the Vulcan heart. The chimes fill the air again and once more she calls for silence.

 

Nyota listens, enraptured by the scene as she summons Sybok to her and he goes to his knees before her with steepled fingers. While the hand gesture is different, his current posture is exactly like that of his brother’s before they...ahem…

 

Gazing back at her bondmate, he watches her with a knowing gaze and she understands more of what went on between them. The sounding of the gong, startles her back to watching Sybok as he is now fitted with his crown and seated upon the hard looking throne.

 

He addresses the court with a cool air, ushering those of high houses or martial rank to come forward and pay their respects. After a regal exchange, each one of them takes to their knees and allows Sybok to touch their brow to lightly link with their mind.

 

Sweat starts to bead at her back as dread slowly fills Nyota at what looks to be a potential horror. He was going to call her forth, she just knew he would. And after the absent Silek was not there to give his homeage - do to what they were told is a ( bullshit) illness - Sybok slowly turns Nyota with fiery eyes.

 

“ Step forward and take a knee, Nyota Uhura.”

 

Those in the pew next to her step back and clear the way, not at all envious of the position she is in. Nyota ruefully obeys him, as she lifts her gown up and climbs the sand-colored stairs up towards his throne.

 

Spock’s eyes are locked on her face, even as his growing worry throbs at her temples.

 

When she tops the small flight of stairs, Nyota glides forward with all the nerve she can manage to keep her expression and movements smooth. As she bows, she feels both the brothers eyes follow her descent and looks up to find both their attentions fixed upon her. Spock looks bored for all the angst he feels, but Sybok...appears hungry, no...more like smug.

 

The tiniest of smiles tilts the corners of his lips but the high, narrow arch of his eyebrows give him an air of arrogance. He’s so pleased with everyone having to prostrate themselves before him that not even logic can suppress the self-satisfied smirk from his face during these long formalities.

 

Maniacal, apathetic, son of bitch . His father’s ashes weren’t even cold in their urn. There was no sense of mourning or grief about him, just a clear sense of grandiosity.

 

Nyota stands before him and lowers her gown and robe back down to the floor, focusing on her breathing as Sybok looks her over as if she were still naked.

 

“ Nyota Uhura. The jewel of Terra .” Sybok says with a chuckle. He tilts his head thoughtfully as he so often does when regarding her and blinks slowly. Nyota chews at the inside of her cheek noticing that Sybok purposefully left off her other titles and her position within his court. She is the principle artisan of the royal family and Spock’s new intended, not some free agent roaming the halls for a good time and a tease!

 

She thinks back on her latest warp technology study results and salivates at how close she is to advancing from apprentice to journeyman in warp technology. Her language studies are woefully easy, to the point she has been granted a master’s title in most of them.

 

Engineering and Mathematics, however, have been a struggle from the start. Remembering formulas and theories hadn’t been her strongest suit but she labored over them with the time Spock left her with.

 

After weeks of toiling over equations that no longer had numbers and recalling ship blueprints down to the electro-static sealant, Nyota had seen been given a new course for each concentration. The accolades made her new apprenticeship there among the scholars more precious. A small thrill thrums through her at the thought of what Sybok’s face would look like having to be forced to call her master.

 

So smug is she in her musing that Nyota doesn’t notice that Sybok’s focus has shifted along with his plotline. “ Spock, step forward.”

 

Staring out of the corner of her eye, Nyota watches as Spock takes a ginger step forward and comes into a weak bow for Sybok’s benefit. He feels confused too, uncertain as to what Sybok could be calling him for but he keeps it from his face. “ Your Grace.”

 

Sybok positively beams at the warm words and sighs wistfully with a tilt of his head. “ My dear brother...beloved of my ka’tra. I must admit, over these past few months, you’ve offended me gravely.”

 

Nyota chills and freezes in place...or is it Spock’s reaction flooding over onto her through their link? Sybok’s tiny smirk shines on as he continues to list his grievances. “ It would have been something just to keep your ‘obsession’ from me, “ he says with a jerk of his head towards Nyota with a huff through his nose. “ but you’ve gone on and bonded with her and stole away our parted father’s favor from me.”

 

Spock opens his mouth to counter him but Sybok holds up a hand for silence. “ No, Spock. He had never been so cross with me until you started to change. You and your foul monogamy and boring repression.”

 

Sybok sighs and cranes his head forward with his eyes narrowed at his brother. “ You use to out drink me, out fuck me and in the best of times even frighten me with your apathy on the battlefield but no more. You’ve grown soft from your human and you’ve pilfered my inheritance from father, of which I could not gain before he left this plane for that of our ka’tra’s realm.”

 

Spock exhaled as mildly as he could at Sybok’s scolding but Nyota could feel his rage. And his pain. He still wasn’t well and it was taking more energy than it should have just to stand and remain still. His desire to rest and sleep once again ached even to her bones. If it made any difference to him as far as his comfort, Nyota thought to bear his fatigue with as much grace as he was.

 

Spock straightens himself to attention and bows his head slowly. “ It was never my intention to steal anything from you, inheritance or otherwise, your Grace.”

 

Sybok scoffs and hums at his reply with a nearly expressionless face. “ Oh but the road to the human’s fabled hell is paved with such things, brother. You must know that, being half human yourself.”

 

“ Yes, your Grace.” Spock agrees, swallowing down the bile threatening to rise up out of his throat.

 

“ It is no matter.  You will make good on your trespasses against me. If I cannot have what was rightfully mine, you shall serve me in such matters where your looted bounty can benefit the Empire.”

 

Sybok glances over towards one of the closer stewards and sends the male hurrying towards him with an electronic quill and PADD. Quickly penning down his commands Sybok officiates it with his thumbprint and a stamp of the royal sigil gracing the top of his ring. The steward rushes off and leaves the alone again on the platform with Sybok looking all too pleased with himself.

 

“ As of stardate 2265.17.4, you, Crown Prince Spock are ordered to head the Imperial legion that will see to recapturing and suppressing the dissidents of Deltan Prime. You may not return until such commands are fulfilled to the letter or death greets your ka’tra.”

 

Nyota feels his eyes on her before she even turns to look at Spock with the same shock and doubt filling both their eyes. By sheer will and determination, Nyota remains standing though her heart and blood sink down into her innards. Spock going Delta Prime? That was a week away with even the fastest of warp ships going at 8. And he was sick as a dog!

 

And what was she to do against Deltan assailants? To be quite honest, Nyota was more aligned with their cause, no matter how lost. That she was officially a part of the royal Vulcan court would be hard to argue such allegiances otherwise. She is bonded to the Crown Prince after all. She was many things but a warrior was not one of them. Add to that her psi-null mind and she was as good as dead or kidnapped.

 

Sybok makes a sound Nyota takes to be sympathetic, though sarcastic in nature, and shifts on the throne. “ Oh don’t worry you two, Nyota won’t be going out there. Delta Prime’s battlefield no place for a lady such as yourself. You’ll be here, safe and sound, by my side.”

 

Spock’s eyes darken and his body trembles as he holds himself in check. “ Absolutely not.”

 

He steps forwards towards Sybok and the guards on either side of him bar his path by crossing the staff of their gilded lipras in front of him.

 

Sybok scoffs again and licks his lip. “ You are not in a position to give me orders, just as you were before. Your bondmate stays here at the palace with me, acting in your place on your behalf as any decent royal intended should. And before you go on about snuffing the light out of my eyes or some such poetic garbage your mother kind is so fond of spouting...Soval! To me!”

 

From the corner of the platform, a wisen looking figure shuffles forward and over to where the three of them are. Nyota remembers him accompanying Emperor Sarek often times in the halls and the courts. He moved about the Emperor like a smaller shadow, just as dark and silent, as he followed behind him in stately black robes. “ Yes, your Grace?”

 

“ Take my mind before these witnesses as I swear an oath to my brother.”

 

Soval looks visible uncomfortable with the request but does not dally in his duties as he moves his sleeve and stretches one thin hand out to rest on Sybok’s temple. Whispering to himself, Soval shifts his hand and looks up to Spock with a nod. “ We are ready.”

 

Sybok sits up in his seat and looks Nyota in the eye as he speaks to Spock. “ I shall link with her as a sister, not a slave, servant, courtesan or bondmate, so that she may serve the Empire, swiftly and without hesitation. I promise to not take your bondmate upon my lok, even if I am asked by her to do so-”

 

Nyota cheeks flush hotly as she glares at him in embarrassed disbelief. “ I would not! You-”

 

“ Silence. The Emperor is speaking.” he guard beside her orders, knocking the weighted pummel of his lipra down onto the floor. Nyota bites her lip in consternation and casts her gaze away from the Sybok to the ground.

 

Sybok smirks and nods his head lightly. “ That’s right, Nyota, please do mind your manners. I was speaking.”

 

“ Yes, Your Grace.” Nyota manages to choke out without being outright offensive towards him.

 

Sybok opens his mouth to continue when Spock interrupts once more with a snarling growl. “ You would abandon your sick brother to die out in the far reaches of space, away from his bondmate and home?”

 

The Emperor’s lips curl as he rips Soval’s hand from his face and leans forward onto the arms of the throne. “ You abandoned me the moment you put her wants before my needs.”

 

“ And what is it exactly that you have need of that I denied you?”

 

“ You, you thankless twat!” he spat. Already quiet, the room takes on a deafening silence as Sybok's words echo through the hall in a roar. “ She could have been our treat, hell perhaps even our bride if you and father had ever thought beyond yourself and ‘our ways’ but you’ve always been selfish Spock.”

 

Snatching Nyota by the hand, Sybok thrusts her towards towards him and knits his fingers over her face. “ Now it’s my turn…”

 

Spock bursts past the first two guards but is stopped by four others while Nyota struggles fitfully to get free. Sybok uses his other hand to hold her back the neck and stills her with his energy. “ Hush now, I merely wish to greet your mind as I have with the others. Spock. It will just be a light link, as it was with the Lords and Ladies.”

 

“ She is human!” Spock rasps, now seriously out of breath.

 

Sybok nods and scoffs at him allowed. “ And I’m the king of Vulcan. I do as I please and this isn’t my first time with a human. I’ll be careful.”

 

Nyota shuts her eyes tearfully as Sybok’s mind brushes within her and….

 

She gasps and snaps her eyes open to gaze at his smirking face. Nothing, she felt nothing. No, that was wrong, it wasn’t that she felt nothing, it was that she felt no difference….he was...he had been...

 

Sybok doesn’t speak aloud but she could probably glean as much if he weren’t to speak into her mind. Surprise, sister, dear. I’ve been here the whole time.

 

He gazes up at Spock with a venomous frown and salutes him with a ta’al. “ Peace and long life, brother. Serve the Empire well and you will be rewarded with seeing her face again whilst living.”

 

The guards usher Spock away back to his chambers while Nyota watches from the hold of Sybok’s mental grip upon her.


Meeting his eye, Nyota is met with the blank, expressionless gaze of the new monster of the Alpha quadrant. Checkmate, human.

Chapter Text

The rest of the afternoon feels like a blur as Nyota takes Spock’s place, standing miserably at the side of his insufferable brother. Numb doesn’t begin to capture of despondency. Her whole body feels overwrought with conflicting emotions - too shocked to be angry, too sad to be scared and too passionate to consider the thought of suicide.

 

Every now and then as she watches Sybok’s gleeful face survey his new dominion Nyota steals away in her mind as much as she can and curses him six ways to Sunday.

 

Evil dung beetle, Foul, arse-eating goat, fuck you and all you stand for, your majesty...may the devil take you as his bawd for all eternity...I am near to giving whatever hier I may produce to have I-chaya chew your lok off after he tups your rear emerald green….

 

Sybok continues to summon Vulcans and aliens alike to stand before him, seemingly obviously of her mind’s foul mouth and dictates his power as he sees fit for hours more. The tenor of the chamber has changed significantly since she and Spock had been so soundly dealt with. From her vantage point, the rest of the court is silent and wary in the face of their new, fickle Lord, trying to put on their best fronts of dutiful well-wishers.

 

Won’t do them any good, poor beggards she thinks bitterly, staring at the door where Spock disappeared. I see what trying to avoid his notice got me...never once did I seek him out but he always had ways of finding me...trapping me...I’m trapped…

 

Nyota bites the inside of her cheek and drags a long breath in through her nose to calm herself. The scandalous scent of Spock’s seed down and around her fills her nose and she finds herself oddly settled. She takes another breath and feels an thudding pain in her chest at his grossly felt absence. Spock, her maniacal monster is lost to her.  

 

Nyota gives a quick shake of her head and knocks herself away from her That line of thinking won’t get her anywhere...well, anywhere she wants to be.

 

If she plays into her fear and panic, she dances right into Sybok’s hand and if she were to allow herself to become overcome with grief pre-maturely at Spock’s departure then she’d be dancing over into the other hand. Smoothing her tongue over the angry flesh of her maw, Nyota focuses back at the scene before her.

 

Those who come to kneel before Sybok, gaze at her or try and meet her eye but Nyota doesn’t bother with trying to ease their anxiety. Too much of her mind is devotes itself to Spock’s plight and her life here and now. All too soon from biting her cheek did she find herself staring out into the crowd for Spock’s handsome, familiar face. Spock...

 

What would happen once he came back? Would Sybok just send him out on another mission once her returned? Would he order Spock to do some horrible deed to prove his loyalty; like opening their marriage bed to him or enslaving her? Would he bar them from having offspring? Would he order her death by his hands…?

 

Nyota drags her nails across her palm to keep the dreadful thoughts at bay but she using pain to do so if being to fail her. So she uses the delegates before her as an example of how things could be worse. At least she knows what Sybok is, the rest of these souls are merely food for fodder.

 

The Denobulian delegate pontificating in front of them drawls on, oblivious of how vexed she is with his aimless rambling. It’s not even a moment later that Sybok raises his hand for silence and lowers it back down onto the arm of his chair. “ Stop your aimless rambling. You bore the human princess and I shan’t have that. She’s melancholy enough as it is, aren’t you, dearheart?”

 

Nyota bows her head with her eyes cast down to the toes of her slippers peeping out from the hem of her robes. A splotch of gold stains the tip of one of them, not unlike herself. “ Thank you for your concern, Your Grace.” she responds, diplomatically.

 

Sybok blinks at her solemnly and back over to the delegate, who was now fiddling with his cuffs. All too late does the Denobulian sense the danger that he’s in, if he were to pique the ire of the Emperor's temper. In an attempt to backpedal his gaffe, his ridgeline alien breaks out into their trademark grins and chuckles nervously. “ I do beg your pardon, princess. I have never been before Vulcan royalty before. I find myself perhaps too ecstatic by his Majesty’s presence.”

 

Magnanimous, in a way she knows he affects, Sybok ignores the noble’s nervous fumbling and speaks with them both. “ Females. So fair in looks and spirit. Don’t let this one deceive you however. My bond sister here houses a fire like any Vulcaness. It is just a bit tempered with the absence of her mate.”

 

Quick a flash, Sybok seizes her hands and soothes his fingers across the back of it. Nyota bites the inside of her cheek and takes a shuddering breath as a salacious thrill suffuses her. It’s not quite lust and not exactly malicious but the sensation aches at her nerves as if she cannot find her completion in coitus. “ Don’t fret, darling. Be ever assured that I shall keep you quite in good company, Nyota.”  

 

Sybok brushes his fingers again, making her nipples bud painfully against her bralette to the point of irritation. She starts to move her mouth to speak to him when her teeth chatter as if she were cold. Or wanting.

 

Sybok watches her with dark eyes, taking in her reaction with a wry glint to his gaze. “ You would like that, wouldn’t you, bond sister? Me keeping you company? It is not so good a thing for humans to be alone I have heard.”

 

Behind it all, Nyota feels a pull, an invitation to explore more of what can be exchanged with him. On the edge of her mind she can feel him; lurking, prowling and hungry, with a hazy blur as to his reason for it.

If Nyota were to define it, his overture feels surprisingly sincere even with his intention so clearly malevolent. The thought of what he could be planning nags at her mind and Sybok carefully brushes away her concern. “ Oh, look at you. Speechless. It’s quite alright, you have my full attention.”

 

Faintly, Nyota feels his telepathy trickle down along the neural pathways and out across her nerves. It electrifies as well as frightens her in how her body seems like someone else’s. Nyota quietly gags at the air and looks at Sybok tilt his head to the side as he watches her. She’s choking with nothing constricting her neck. To add to her dismay, Sybok’s foul lust has slowly burned its way to her clit. As she stands there with her lips trembling for air, the strength of his desire has her emotions raging and her quim is at the height of excitement. A small groan escapes her throat as her breath grows shallower still until she finds she can no longer draw another in.

 

So close to dying and going out of her mind from nothing more than a caress of her hand and a brush of her mind. To her left, the Denobulian noble stands anxiously awaiting to be either dismissed or spoken to once more but she can’t find the air to cry for help. A lot of good that would do both of them.

 

Sybok tenderly fondles her hand, stoking the fire in her quim higher and tears wet her eyes. The need for relief soon aches at her channel so much that Nyota notices it even as her lungs burn for air. She almost needs to come as much as she needs to breath. Surak take her, this was not worth suffering.

 

Sybok delicately presses their fingers into a kiss and blinks up at her expectantly. Tell me, Nyota, what is it that you need...We could make each other happy...give each other something singularly worth wanting...we could bond further if you forsake my brother...I’ll show you pleasures that you could not even dream of…

 

A series of visions cross her mind, each more lewd and vile than the last. A flicker of the sensations to the corresponding actions pulse over her, further fueling the torturous pressure in her mound. Her stomach rolls at a particularly pointed scene and runs a full-bodied shiver through her.

 

On and on, he goes until the last shows her riding him with as if her life depended on it. Given her situation, it probably did. The vision of herself is strange though. Her breasts are full, her stomach round and Sybok’s hands possessively palming the swell of it.

 

Her eyes grow wider as it hits her.

Pregnancy. He’s hinting at impregnating her.

 

I’ll put an heir in you...more if you wish...have you reign by my side until I could find my bondmate...I’ll set you free...unless, you wish to remain mine...

 

With a single tear rolling down her cheek, Nyota gives her head a jagged shake back and forth. Whatever she needed, ever wished for in this life, it wouldn’t be Sybok giving it to her. He wasn’t Spock, he’s sane and he wasn’t anything to her but her Emperor.

 

She gently reclaims her hand and slips back into her rigid posture with the last ounce of strength her mind can muster to free her from his grasp. His eyes smile at her as she does so, with the rest of him aflame with the reflecting light of the many gems that cover his crown. “ Perhaps I’ve said too much? Or is it my gravitas that frightens you so?”

 

He reaches out and runs two of his fingers over her cheek and under her jaw, neither spite or affection. “ Either way, pi’ko-kai, I’m at your service as much as you are at mine.”

 

She nods at him numbly as she pants quietly at the air and stares down at her hand. Gold salve is smudged in the shape of his handprint across the back of her hand and reignites the feeling of bondage that Spock had done away with earlier.

 

She had thought herself safe, Spock had made her feel it after a time of being kept but she had woken back up to the reality of her world. Whether Vulcan or other, common or gentle born, no one was safe. Sarek’s death had shown her that, Spock’s demise had shown her that and her new station near this beast had shown her as well.

 

Everyone had warned her away from Sybok, to not goad him, not allow him to touch her but the former Crown Prince did as he pleased. He stalked her as he wished and toyed with her just as he did with everyone else.

 

He had linked with her much to everyone’s surprise, looking in on her during heaven knows when and gathering who knows what information. Surak knows what else he might have done with his power of suggestion. Did he...did he make her...fall in love with Spock?...She doesn’t think so but how could she be sure? How could Spock be sure? Even if he hadn’t Spock, would he do so now to make her fall prey to her heart?

 

She swallows dryly and rubs the metallic smudge away as discreetly as she can onto the bell of her sleeve. Sybok either doesn’t see or care as he dismisses the Denobulian and calls up the next alien representative to praise and gift him.

 

It’s a Bajorian, the current Kai of Bajor Prime, laced with fine silks and earrings so intricate she doesn’t know where they begin or end. As she prays a blessing of good health and prosperity towards the prophets on Sybok’s behalf, her retainer of monks and nuns place basket after basket of goods at Sybok’s feet.

 

Nyota, for her part, doesn’t speak unless spoken to and everything then is still by rote, instilled in her from years of entertaining. Sybok tries to draw her out a bit, using  translations of certain phrases or presented texts as an excuse for her to speak but even then she is for more demure than he prefers.

 

As the Bajorians leave, those who Sybok allows to go and the Tellerites take their place, Nyota’s mind wonders from her once more.

 

What if Spock didn’t come back...what then? The best that could happen for her would be going back to Terra but she knows it’s not a possibility worth considering. Sybok has a link to her, if not a bond - she can’t be certain - and with his hooks already pried into her there is no way he would release her to live the rest of her life in peace and solitude.

That is, if her madam wouldn’t call to claim her as property once more with her unpaid debt. She’s sure that her mistress would charge her a king’s ransom in being able to bed and possibly wed a Vulcan prince.

After the Tellerites come the Andorians, followed by the Gorns and Orions, until the whole of known Vulcan’s Imperial galaxy has placed the treasures of their quadrant down at Sybok’s booted feet. Most of it now, is piled behind him as he stands to address the court but Nyota sees that his butlers and valets are hard at work organizing the wares and informing the stewards of where to store them.

 

“...and before you take your leave of me and my home, I adjure you all to come break bread and sup with me. It was please this great one and his bond sister immensely if you did.”

 

Nyota jerks her head up at the mention of his bond ko-kai and is horrified to find all of the court staring back at her. Even from the galleries posted in the back of the hall, it’s clear to see that most are expectant of gaining her audience as well.

 

Sybok probably mentioned her to further off-balance her ( which he was truly doing a spot on job of) but from the murmurs in the front she thinks she can see an ulterior motive.

 

She doesn’t confirm it until she seated next to him as they partake of the feast set down in the dining hall. The food lining the table doesn’t even look real it’s so molded into such perfection. Even so, each bite Nyota forces herself to take tastes like bitter ash on her tongue.

 

The world about her is bright and jubilant and Nyota finds herself fighting to mirror the same mood of the crowd. Sybok seeks to aid in her performance by taking her hand whenever she thinks to discard it in her lap. When she takes to eating with the hand that’s closest to him, the new Emperor takes to playing with her instead.

 

A tender stroke along her ear, caress between her shoulder blade and ever his favorite, curling her hair free and around his finger as he rests his large, hot hand at her neck, has them gaining an audience Nyota does not seek to entertain.

 

Hush whispers and lingering glances follow his hands as Sybok dotes on her as his own.The longer she holds out in reciprocating his ‘affection’, the more adamant he becomes in his ‘not so subtle’ courting of her.

 

Some brother he is. He couldn’t get it right with Spock and he does just as poorly with her as well. Flirt with her as he might, the saccharine interaction feels more like a owner bonding with its latest pet.

 

Sybok continues with unwanted tease of her person by making a fuss over the latest course of dessert. “ Look, dearheart.” he hums, gesturing towards the cheesecake the waiters are hurriedly serving around the table. “ Come. Have some. It will cheer you.”

 “ I must respectfully decline, your Majesty.” she says, inclining her head with a hand to her stomach. “ I fear I may have overeaten.”

In truth, she had no hunger at all to begin with but the thought of eating the overly-rich Western dessert makes her stomach cramp.

 

Sybok furrows his brows and extends a tiny, silver fork out towards her mouth for her to eat. “ I don’t understand. It’s Terran? Do you not hail from Terra and enjoy Terran things?”

“ Yes these things are all true but I did not grow up eating such delicacies. I was boarded very early in my childhood to apprentice as a hostess. It wasn’t until I accompanied my sisters out for international galas and parties that I ever gained the chance to eat cheesecake.”

 

Sybok flashes a smile and edges the fork closer that she can smell the sugary cream of it. “ All the more reason to eat it now then. Open for your Emperor now, Nyota.”

 

Nyota’s forged smile falters as he goads her to open her mouth and accept the proffered food. Nyota closes her eyes in disdain at the sweetened, clotted cream of it. Sybok slowly slides the dainty fork from between her lips with a look that’s anything but innocent. Nyota shakes her head as he goes to fetch her another fork full. “ Your Majesty is too kind but I cannot eat another bite.”

 

The socially inept Denobulian noble from earlier, Farrel, takes it upon himself to make sport of it as he draws his goblet away from his lips. “ One does grow full from love. At least my wife has told us so.”

 

“ Us?” Nyota asks in honest confusion of who the alien was referring to. Why was it that this infantile noble, wouldn’t shut up?

 

Farrel dabs a napkin neatly against his mouth and spreads his mouth into another astoundingly-wide smile. “ Us husbands, of course! There’s five of us and my wife is beside herself with pride. You and the Princes make a fine match as well if I may say so myself. I never thought that Vulcans would be so...umm how should I say...open to such grand opportunities.”

 

Silverware clatters against her plate as Nyota shoots her hands up in shock at his statement but before she can answer Sybok is already clearing his throat and replying for them both. “ Alas, that one is solely my brother’s and my brother’s alone. To me she is only a subject and bondsister. But ...if some tragedy were to befall my dear Spock, I would surely tend to the jewel of Terra as I would any gem on my crown.”

 

Some eating nearby grow quiet at his declaration, eager to listen in while Farrel positively beams at the news. “ Oh what good luck you have, Ms. Uhura. What good news indeed. You’ll always be looked after.”

 

Sybok forks another mouthful of cake into her, freeing Nyota of any commentary. She wanted none of this trifling business, being watch at random from any number of mind-controlled stalkers. Her stomach knots angrily from her growing anxiety as it fights to digest what food she has consumed. Trapped...I’m trapped…!

 

Sybok glances at her curiously and extends a hand towards her mouth. “ You have cake on your lip.”

 

No, no, no! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! No! She screams within herself with a fresh new wave of fear swipes over her. What little composure she begins to fizzle away as Sybok’s fingers draw nearer. She can’t do again, not that torturous choking and arousal he made her suffer as she stood near his throne. He doesn’t halt his hand and she feels her stomach sour further. Oh heavens, please!

 

Before his thumb grazes her mouth, Nyota’s gut pushes up without warning and spills her food between them in a half-hearted hurl. Those seated closest to them lean away with noises of disgust and silken napkins to their noses as she battles another heave.

 

Sybok gives a slight shrug of his shoulders at the display and retrieves his wine glass as T’Sel hurries to hold her hair away. “ You’re excused, Nyota. You’re ruining my feast.”

 

Nyota nods as best she can between gagging and rises up from her chair. As she departs, Sybok calls after her from over his cup. “ As you take your leave, I request that you go to your chambers to clean up and remain there until I give further notice. It will be easier to find you...to check on your welfare, of course.”

 

She starts to reply when she vomits once more and has whole audience of their table looking on in horror. T’Sel orders a guard to carry her and Nyota allows it up to a point. She did want to be back in her chambers but alone and without Sybok coming to break the peace of it. Once they’re clear of court, Nyota commands the guard to place her back on her feet. Even with her stomach still sour, Nyota’s mouth blossoms into a thankful smile. She hadn’t thought herself so close to tossing her stomach contents but the sensation warming the back of her mind tells of a different cause. She begins to unbutton soiled robe on top and wipes the sleeve of it roughly against her mouth. “ T’Sel, what’s the closest chamber or powder room to us?”

 

“ I believe the guest wing’s, my Lady. Do you wish to refresh there before you retire to your rooms?”

 

Nyota shrugs off the heavy top coat of her outer robe and corset and shakes her head. “ I wish to clean myself of my bout before walking in the Crown Prince’s garden.”

 

The guard looks to T’Sel in confusion as to how he should follow orders to which her maid shakes her head at him to not question it. “ As you wish, my Lady. I’ll bathe thee and see to your hair and clothing. You will only have so much time to roam the grove but I will see to it that you do.”

Nyota nods at her empathically and follows close behind with a strong spell of dizziness about her. Keeping the Emperor’s mind at bay from her disobedience has her feeling faint but she shan’t be kept from this errand. “ I thank you. Both of you. Let us not tarry and be off before we’re found out.”

 

----------

 

Freshly washed and dressed, Nyota steps out from the colonnade into the arboretum, frantically searching for what she knows is there. Fear drives her speed as much as her dizziness tamps it down. T’Sel and her guard linger near the main door and watch her run from the ornamental pools to the desert rose garden and back again as she tries to gain her bearings.

 

No, no here...where...where is…

 

She steps towards a copse of trees and spies a single booted foot lying between the willowy branches of the K’ai tree. Upon seeing it, her feet move automatically to see its owner. As she draws nearer, Nyota finds her lover fallen at the tree’s roots. “ Spock!”

 

He is still here! The feeling! Her sudden bout of vomiting now clearly explained as she felt his presence before she did so. It relieves her on many levels, namely that she feared pregnancy. She does not believe the Sybok to be above infanticide. “ Spock!”

 

She runs to him despite the thin soles of her shoes doing nothing to protect her feet from the rocky soil underfoot and falls before him. In all her time with him on Vulcan, never has Spock appeared so despondent, not even after Sarek’s passing. “ Spock!”

 

He barely glances at her as she looks him over and sighs to himself as she pulls his hands against hers. “ You came. I wanted to say goodbye before I leave. I am sorry...what is is.”

 

Spock rolls his glassy-looking eyes down towards the stubby yar grass growing in the outline of the willow’s shade while Nyota swallows with a furious shake of her head. “ No it isn’t! Take me with you! Spock, please, don’t leave me here! Please!”

 

Spock soothes his hands over hers as a means to calm her. “ I have been commanded to lead the conquest of Delta Prime. I can’t guarantee your safety where I cannot guarantee my own.”

 

Nyota inhales sharply and draws her head back away from him. “ What if we just left? The Vulcan crusades are over and aside from the food, what has Delta Prime have to offer the Empire?!”

 

Spock sighs dejectedly and sits up a bit from the ground. “ Stability. If they secede from the Empire, others will seek to do the same until with have the whole of the three quadrants busting down Vulcan’s door. They must be suppressed and I have to be the one to do so.”

 

Nyota sniffles and pulls his hands to her face. “ No! No, no, no, please, Spock.”

 

Spock purrs mutely at her melancholy affection and she feels his love of it hearten him. “ The new Emperor has taken up the cause once more and, as crown prince and my punishment, he wishes for me to oversee the Deltans nobility overthrown.”

 

“ You don’t have to, please. You’re sick.” she pleads. Her throat burns as she beats down the urge to cry but being with him after hours of being near Sybok is bittersweet. Soon she would be without him and there is a growing possibility that he may not be returning alive if he comes back at all.

 

“ You were as much a witness as I was to the charge. I have been outwitted and outdone. I did not foresee my brother’s plot to take out those who could threaten his rule as he has but Sybok has always been so very clever...”

 

Spock’s voice trails off as he stares off into the distance, where Nyota knows the airfield to be. His voice is thoughtful and soft when he speaks again, still gazing off at the horizon. “ I wished to see you before I left but I shan’t dally here long. I promise to take care of myself and return to you as soon as I am able.”

 

“ Their telepathy…” Nyota starts with a nervous lick of her lips. “ It’s said to be far greater than that of a Vul-”

 

“ We were going to wed. I broke my bond to T’Pring.” he interrupts. Nyota is stunned silent before she launches once more into one-word questions. “ What? When?”

 

“ When last I saw my father. He performed the task, along with another as a gift...for you.”

 

Nyota sputters with her mouth gaping open and close like a fish out of water. She’s stunned, unable to form a reply that render her back to her senses. “ A gift? Your bond...to me...I am your…”

 

“ Only one. More than my lover and less than my wife. Truly mine. We were to be married after I recovered from my father’s handling but…” Spock, winces and takes a hold of her hand. Nyota starts to question his health when he replies mentally.

 

I cannot assure our privacy without touching your mind. My brother just checked upon me...I shall need to leave before he sends guards to see about my departure. I’ve alluded them for a bit I can’t forever. For now touching you as I do shall shield both of our minds.

 

His free reaches out and caresses her cheek slowly, as if he’s physically trying to remember the line and shape of her face. Nyota bits her lip tearfully and closes her eyes. In the midst of all their plots and foolishness they still...felt for one another. She no longer questions whether it was healthy for either party, it most ways she knows that it isn’t. She also knows it would just as dire to deny it.

 

As if agreeing with her assessment, runs a Vulcan kiss above her brow and over her temple. Upon my return, I intend to finish what I planned to start.

 

“ What’s that?” Nyota asked clutching his hand tighter.

 

Spock smirks ruefully and looks a bit more like himself as he thinks it over. Set you free, of course. Upon my return, I shall take thee out to the forge and have you the over the sand dunes, plumb your cunt as we have our wedding night at Mt. Selaya and tup you into your own version of madness. All of this of course after I slaughter my brother. But for now I must strive to stay alive and recover long enough to do so.

 

He pulls Nyota down alongside him, kisses her soundly on the lips and whispers across her face. “ I promised to keep you, care for you. I’m making a poor show of it but that can’t be helped. Once I’ve done my task and regain my health, however, I intend to see it through...all of it.”

 

Nyota nods as his assurance and resolve burns at her chest and takes in his stare. Spock tilts his head, disturbing the grass below him and cuts his eyes at her. “ It is real.”

 

Nyota frowns slightly in confusion until Spock presses against her doubt as to how her feelings for him had been born and cultivated. Her earlier musing of whether she loved him truth or by the influence of him or his brother stung him soundly. “ Do you think I would concoct such a fantasy? Do you think I would willingly let my brother take such an action against you?”

 

Nyota gasps in surprise as his the hand caressing her face goes to her waist and pulls her flush against him. The heat of his breath tickles her ear while the crushing hold of his hand at her own makes her go limp.

 

“ Ever since our first night,” he begins hoarsely, teasing her rear. “... from the first time I stole the sweetness of your cunt onto my lok, the only thing I quested for their after was your love. The only thing I ever demanded from you was our honesty with one another.”

 

Nyota shivers in his hold as the vision of Spock taking her up against the chamber walls as she clawed and moaned into his shoulder washed over her. It was right before she was made to ride him and she had just swiped angrily at his beautiful face with a ear-splitting scream. Spock merely responded with driving himself into her faster. When he knotted to her, Spock dropped his head down to groan between her breasts with a terrifying chuckle.

 

“ You are the truest I have ever known.” he murmured as she climaxed around him in a fitful wail. “ A door to the reality I knew was there but could never find on my own. This is all I wanted...all I ever will want…”

 

He bit her then and dragged them down to the floor just as the vision cleared from her mind. Spock gazes at her now conflicting mix of arousal, nostalgia and a surprising amount of shame. It had been wonderful for him but he had hurt her so much. He had never considered forcing her or any other female onto to his lok as wrong, morally or otherwise but in coming to know and love her Spock realized bit by bit just how poorly his treatment of others had been.

 

It does not mean that he does not the urge to take her thusly has left him. Even now in review of the vision his depraved mind wishes to relive it in truth. His love for her, however, along with the mind-bound promise to his father, tempers him. As much as he could, Spock would no longer rape his love, neither in her quim or her blessed mind.

 

Nyota, privy to all his dark musing and desire, lies dumbstruck beside him. The revelation has her struggling to come to a conclusion for her feelings but something as muddled as this would just take time. As much as she believes it to be a sickness of her own, she loves him but...

 

Spock kisses the shell of her ear, soft and long before cupping her face again. “ If I wanted you as you were and as you are, why would I then settle for less? Why would I willingly lie to myself when I battle so hard to know the truth? The coercion of your mind to ‘will’ you into loving me is only a deception to myself. I have a hard enough time as it is, ash-vel.”

 

“ We shouldn’t have done this…” she answers with her voice cracking with emotion.

 

“ Should we not have?” he huffs with amusement in his eyes. “ I am certainly better for all of it...relatively speaking.” he replies rubbing at the angry le’matya bite mark beneath his robes.

 

Spock kisses her once more before taking to his feet with a shaky stance. “ I must go.”

 

Nyota braces herself against his tall frame and cries silently into the soft fabric of his robe. She hates it but she feels helpless and they helplessness makes her so angry that she cannot stop her tears if she tried to.

 

How were either of them going to survive Sybok and this wretched war? How was she going to survive yet another Prince? Spock had played at her death and in a bone-chilling way she knows Sybok has his own plans for her. “ What’s going to happen to us, Spock?”

 

Spock cradles her as best he can against his torso and runs his fingers along her face as she sniffles at the running of her nose. “ I cannot say. I will advise that we both make certain of those we can trust. Just as I will, you should keep them close and use them often to keep yourself safe. My brother made an oath to the two of us but if our shared past holds true, he and I have had a habit of breaking them.”

Chapter Text

What would normally be a mind-numbingly boring stint across the cosmos, is now a much welcome respite for the ailing royal. Soon after boarding the shuttle and the battle cruiser thereafter, the invalid Crown Prince sequesters himself to his quarters.

 

Bare across his bed, he lies in a near coma as his body sets itself to rights. Clearing his mind was easy but entering the healing trace takes him nearly half of a sol day to achieve. Once there he falls into a deep and dreamless slumber.

 

Of those onboard the poorly-lit vessel, he trusts very few but for those he does, Spock posts outside his cabin. His sleep is punctuated with moments of lucidity when bumps or rattle that seems out of place come to his ears.

 

One could never be too careful or know how for Sybok’s hold over his subjects could reach or the sway of his wealth. You wave enough latnium bars in that face of some of these commoners and you’ll gain a knife in the back of your anyone you wish. Not that Spock ever hired any layman to do his dirty work. He’s too straightforward of a creature when it came to ‘solving problems’ in that form and fashion.

 

In the end, it’s the lock on the inside of his door sealed with his own psionic imprint that helps to ease his nerves back to sleep. He has to regain his health if he stands any chance of making it out of the Delta quadrant alive. The first step in achieving that was relieving himself of the last traces of the le’matya’s bite.

 

In a gradually tread, Spock’s body goes from a sound sleep to nearly catatonic. His heartbeat resembles his mother’s lazy, human pace, helping to isolate the venom and draw it down into his bowels. Filling his lungs now calls for a full three minutes and twice that on the exhalation. With digestion coming to standstill and his mind afloat, Spock lets his body take the reins.

 

Slowly but surely, Spock finds some of his strength returning to him as hours accumulate into days. The fever that’s been plaguing him since he awoke to Nyota in his bed begins to lift along with the endless, dull ache to his muscles. By the third day, his breath comes as easy as it always has; not that he has reason to breathe easy.

 

With each passing day, star system weathered, the distance between Nyota and himself grows exponentially. The bond between them does little more than speak of her existence the further out they go. The delicate details as to her human mind and mood are far too vague for his psionic abilities to discern at this point. In his musing he thinks perhaps later when his some of father’s latent abilities finally awaken in him he would be more keen in his perception of her but until that time he waits.

 

The whining drone of the ship’s warp engines hum on as Spock knits himself back together.

His concerns as to her safety and wellbeing slow the process of his healing as he listens out for any communiques that might come through. But as hours accumulate into days and days into a week Spock grows more certain that communications are being disrupted. And while the Tellerites were known for such subterfuge, the crew blocking any and all comm messages unrelated to their goal is more likely the case.

 

Yet another ‘present’ from his bawdy cunt of a brother. The thought of Sybok parading Nyota around with her fingers against his own is enough to inspire plans of murder. Spock quells the urge to wring his brother’s neck with his growing bloodlust for Delta Leonis Prime. The brilliant star system on the stellar lion’s hip has been an ever-present problem to the Empire and it’s a boil that Spock morbidly looks forward to lancing.

 

With a telepathy that was nearly peerless when it came to its reach and strength, the rebellious beings of the pale blue planets were aliens of opportunity. Why his grandfather Skon or his late pid-kom Empress T’Pau, didn’t see fit to snuff them out at the first ( or even the bloody fifth) rebellion is beyond Spock. It was their impotence in dealing with the outlying quadrants that is partly to blame in his predicament.

 

If it were up to him, he would have long since put an end to the threat. All those who deny his planet’s hegemony are destined for his wrath, just as Sybok is now fated to meet his end at his hands.

 

A tinny chime brings him out of his trace and back to the richly decorate hull of his cabin. He sits up from the bed, feeling all the better for the repose when the door rings again. He grinds his teeth and swings his legs over the side of his bunk while growling for whoever it is to enter as giving a voice command to disengage the lock.

 

The thick, youthful figure of his squire and cousin Sasek, steps in from the threshold and averts his gaze as soon as he realizes Spock is bare of clothing. “ My Lord. Well met.”

 

“ Hmph. Well. A relative adverb.” Spock rubs at the scratchy stubble that’s grown in over the past week, he takes in his cousin’s appearance as well.

 

The unseasoned youth’s smartly dressed for someone about to wage war, with his polished brass buttons flashing brightly even in the dull light of his room. His neatly tailored blazer falls over his robe in the typical style of a battalion guard but. He’ll make an easy target for the Deltans to go after but he’ll learn. Or at least die trying. “ Report.”

 

“ Yes, your Highness. The fleets have just arrived to Delta Leonis’ Zosma’s star system and presently eight v’hrals away from Delta Prime’s gravitational well.”

 

Spock sighs through his nose and rises from the mattress. The sureness of his legs and muscles, hearten him as he crosses for the dresser to rehydrate. He pours himself a glass of water and quickly drains it for another. “ Make it four v’hrals .”

 

Sasek smoothly hurries over to help him on with his clothing selection once he steps back from the dresser and goes to the cabin’s head. Emptying his bladder takes a spell but the time gives him to stretch. He catches the motion of it in the mirror and frows at his reflection.

 

Sybok. He looks like his brother. His typical, neatly trimmed hair now is nothing more than a sloven shag and his facial hair threatens to evolve into a beard. Spock turns his head in the mirror and narrows his eyes at his hair. If it were any longer it would be a Selhat that he would be resembling. At least he doesn’t have some of the silver that pepper Sybok’s temples.

 

The desire to rid himself of the extraneous hair nags at him but he bats it off. No soldier this side of the galaxy will give two shits who he happens to favor at the time if it’s not a dead man on the barrel end of their phaser.

 

Spock finishes his ablutions and returns to the cabin’s main room where his cousin is busy preparing his wardrobe. Coming to stand before him, signals his squire to begin preparing him for the day. Surak help him if he didn’t kill any of his men before the end of this.

 

Sasek chances meeting his eye after drawing Spock’s tunic over his head. “ The war council is waiting for your arrival. Does his Highness wish to rush into battle so soon?” he asks commenting about rushing their arrival planetside. Four hours could be meet but they would be hurried in preparing their forces.

 

“ His highness wishes to kill something.” Spock replies honestly, slipping into his underwear and securing the garters to his socks. Sasek has the good grace to look frighten as he aids Spock in getting into his trousers but quickly recovers. Spock blinks at him in amusement and familial affection as the youth troubles himself with his slack’s fastenings. He looks up to catch Spock’s lapse in foulness and blinks back at him. “ How has my Lord recovered?”

 

Spock pushes his arms through the sleeves of his blazer-like over robe and grimaces. “ This one can carry on just as well. I will soon be rid of this poison with the next shit but I’ve yet to awaken the power I seek. I wish to test it on our dear dissidents…”

 

A absent glance towards the bed strikes him sourly as he spies the bright red robe that he wore the day of his ‘banishment’. It’s drenched in her scent and with every pointed sniff he takes, Spock feels a punch to the gut. He misses her terribly and the guilt of leaving her with his wretched brother twists his innards. He has to return and soon, for both of their sakes. Instead of revealing his angst, Spock draws on his growing irritation with having to deal with the Deltans. “ I swear if I have to fucking trek once more time to this Surak-forsaken constellation I will raze the whole lot with my bare hands.”

 

Sasek’s eyes dart around from floor to the wall and back to Spock as he thinks over his reply. “ You have been here often, Sire?”

 

Spock fetches his boots and takes a seat back on the bed to put them on. “ More than I wishes. The Deltans are a vicious race for all the charms and arts.”

 

The Prince gestures along his side towards the scar he knows to be near his heart. “ Formidable in the worst ways. In spite of this, they are weaker than humans in strength and body so should you encounter one so near that he could do damage like this, snap his neck before he waylays you with his mind.”

 

Sasek nods and shuffles his weight as Spock rises up again to take in his appearance in the reflective aluminum of his walls. As he preens, Sasek grows more agitated, still leaning from one to the other. “ Speak your mind or sit down.”

 

“  Yes, your Highness. Sorry, your Highness. In truth...I have never fought before...not like this. I find myself going over the statically outcome of my survival and do not favor my odds.”

 

Spock lifts a brow as he fastens his sigil pin onto the collar of his robe to hold it close. “ Is that so? Then I shall have to look out for you then.”

 

Sasek brightens at the news and stops his fidgeting at Spock’s words. “ Truly? You would do that for me, Sire?”

 

“ Yes, of course. It is an irksome business acquiring a squire, to say nothing of a competent one.” he says walking past him into the hall.

 

---------

 

After a short lift ride and trek across to the upperclass men deck, Spock and Sasek enter into the Captain’s ready. With no pomp or herald to alert the males to his arrival, the war council, who had been busy discussing port locations, scrambles to attention.

 

Spock dismisses them with a flippant glance in their direction before taking an open seat and gazing off into space. Nervously one by one, they reclaim their seats and continue their discussion. They quietly mull over the scrolls and PADDs that cover the table, presenting them for Spock’s inspection but his mind is elsewhere.

 

For his part Spock sit silently sharpening his short, beveled edge of his lipitah with the same due diligence as his trillpah. Sasek has harassed him to allowed him the honor of maintain his blades but it’s not a task that Spock takes lightly or finds burdensome like prepping his hovercraft.

 

He knows his squire frets over him being distracted away from the strategy discussion but Spock’s opinion matters very little when it comes to the actions of the others.

 

Not that the war council wouldn’t have listened to him, quite the opposite. They would have hung on his every word as if Surak the Great were speaking to them. Spock knows the error of it though. If he were to give them orders and not fight beside them should the battle turned, he would be sealing their fate. Damned for death or treason for disobedience.

 

No; better they make their own plans and work as the units he knows they would have been trained to be. As a royal and descendant of the mighty warlord, Surak, Spock has been trained to engage all enemies on his own. If he wasn’t fighting alongside his brother Spock often fought alone. It was not the most illogical but that is how his family has always fought, sweeping past the front lines and barricades to lay waste to everything he encountered on the other side.

 

That fact in particular makes the latest Crown Prince more irritable as he mulls over the bite mark he allowed the le’matya to gain. True, Spock had come in not in his best form, but he had also entered the arena not on his guard.

 

Sybok had fucked with Spock’s mind as soon as his brother loomed over his Nyota and yet again when he had brought the green, draconian-felines into the field. He had felt something then,....something that overwhelmed his put-together reason...

 

Anger . Spock had not controlled it as Nyota’s fear and relief flooded his nerves but the thought to do so hadn’t even crossed his mind. Curbing his actions had always been a lifelong endeavour but when it came to suppressing emotions he was in dire need of practice.

 

Nyota’s presence had been as much a blessing as it had been a curse. She made him feel things Spock never known to be possible. Joy. Elation. Jealousy. Pining. Each emotion was more delicious and suffocating than the last but just as debilitating.

 

Growing up apathetic as he had, Spock had left himself with no recourse in controlling his emotions. He had largely experienced pleasure and pain with no grey lining, judging matters as either being fair or foul on their merits.

 

Feelings such as happiness or remorse never came to him as they did with humans and so, Spock had thought himself overly Vulcan in this regard. His father’s advisor, Soval, however, droned on and on about the depth of Vulcan passion and how one had to struggle to bring it into submission. Spock had never known what the old, decrepit master was spouting on about and always thought him to be some overzealous fop, making up for some deficiency or secret sin that shamed him.

 

Being in the presence of his mother felt good but did not make Spock happy. Sinking his sword between the ribs of some random soldier before doing the same to his company had been pleasurable but never inspired the young Prince’s remorse. Having to mentally train against his brother and father until lost consciousness time and time again had been painful but neer brought about any feelings resentment.

 

But then came Nyota. His Terran star, the woman who burned him as he stole her. Spock still hasn’t been able to conclude how she struck him with the ability to feel. He only knew that Nyota had and the hard lesson that followed.

 

He had been lax in thinking himself not in danger for having no emotions. He was the perfect Vulcan, invincible, the ideal royal soldier to lead the Imperial fleet for both his father and brother but...she broke him. She clawed into him as he buried himself into her, showing herself to be the most...the most beautiful thing, living or otherwise that he had ever crossed. There was no way, is no way, to be immersed in someone so seraphic and not be struck in rapture.

 

For Spock, his misappropriation had damned him to a slowly emerging empathy.

 

He meditated, of course, but Spock took little to no time to reconcile the newly discovered emotions to his ka’tra. In that small span of time he allowed that curious pull to override his all of the logic and sense.

 

Both had kept him alive out in the field and respected ( or feared depending on the party) in the court, seen as just as fierce a warrior and discerning a scholar as his full bodied brother. Hellions though they were, Spock was viewed as no less divine than the rest of the royal family.

 

Then he brought Nyota to the palace and went about following his cock and his heart instead of his brain. Capturing, consummating and bonding with Nyota had come with a price after his repeated raping. The empathy she infected him with had trying to relieve his shame. First it was lavishing her with finery and gifts from across the quadrant, then employing manner with the help and the rest of the court’s staff. He had and has been working to slither his way into her heart but Spock hadn’t considered that doing so would drag him further in love.

 

He grinds the whetstone harder across the blade as the thought sinks in. He was madly in love with her. In addition to being mad. “Fuck…” he mumbles, switching from his sword to his dagger. He is smitten all the way around.

 

Seems that his darling human’s sweet, honeyed cunt had succeeded in turning him just as soft and tender. Well, no longer...at least towards no one else but his bride. If he wants to make it back in one piece, Spock has to embrace himself as he once was. Empathy be damned. He is a ruthless, savage and blunt instrument of the Empire. Delta would be the first in seeing his revival but surely not the last. Everyone would come to rue the day they forced this sword out from his sheath.

 

Spock growls lowly as he runs the cool whetstone back and across his lipitah’s curved length. Only Sasek is near enough hear and visibly pales at the noise as the generals and captains blather on about where to strike first for the most opportune engagement.

 

In tune to the mood of his lord’s mounting irritation and resolve, from his bond of servitude, Sasek rises from his seat and draws the crowd’s attention with his voice. “ Perhaps we could put the locations to a vote? We have gone on about where to send our shuttles and base our soldiers for over a v’hral now.”

 

All of those seated around the table take a palpable offense to his suggestion and look between themselves to see who should dress down the squire. For someone of his station, the audacity is hard to swallow. Royal relative or not, he soon sees that they will not tolerate his input.

 

One such male rises to the occasion, as Spock spies the newly minted Captain Tavok glaring at his cousin with a nod down towards the star charts mapped below. “ Do you believe war to be so elementary, squire, that we have been simply wasting time better spent preparing our companies?”

 

Sasek remains standing, further rubbing at the nerves of those before Spock and himself. “ No offense is meant, Captain. I would think a vote at this juncture would be the most logical solution to everyone’s point.”

 

Tavok flashes a sneer before clearing his face and planting his hand on the scuffed pummel of his trillpah. The hilt of it is plainly decorated but the latium alloy of the blade more than makes up for it with it’s flexibility and value. He runs his thumb across the grip and snaps it free of its scabbard in a clear, pointed warning. “ Put it to a vote? What human-like gall coming from someone still green. Last I checked, squires did something useful instead of parsing out impudence.”

Spock raises a brow but does not pause in his work. This Captain is a cheeky one.

 

Tavok nods his head over in Spock’s direction and sneers once more. “ A better question would be why are you not attending to your lord’s weaponry?”

 

“ Because I told my squire I did not want him to.” Spock replies quietly, still running the whetstone across his dagger. “ Before any battle, I make it my business to see about any weapons that I may employ.”

 

The Crown Prince comes to his feet and all of the ranking members hurry to get to theirs. In a scuffling screech of chairs across the hollow aluminum floor, they stand at varying degrees of attention but all are wary of his sudden choice to engage them.

Spock steps out from the table and around the chairs, making a slow, easy circle while continuing his work with his dagger. “ One must take note of any nicks or chips. Such damage leads to a broken blade, a jammed phaser, a pommel-less lipra...and the end of your life.”

 

He pauses next to the Captain, standing shoulder to shoulder and takes to studying his profile. The older Vulcan is battle scarred and heavily muscled for a Vulcan. He vaguely reminds Spock of his Uncle’s roguish consort, Sateal but with a dullard’s disposition. Unlike Silek’s besotted hedge knight, this ugly fuck is clearly stupid and it shows in the way that he stands pontificating toward his cousin.

 

The arrogant prick probably takes Spock and the rest of the royals, to be pompous fops whose swords are more decorative than useful. Spock’s heard the rumors the foot soldiers tell as they seek to warm their extremities near the phaser’s banks exhaust pipes. He’s either portrayed as a vicious, budding Mindlord or a Prince playing swords as his brother does all the work. Most have never fought with him but that doesn’t stop their speculation. It’s plain to see that Tavok believes the latter. He’s not afraid of Spock.

 

But he very much should be.

 

Spock lowers his hands to the side and turns to face him head on. “ You say my squire needs to listen to his Lord? Upon my last verification, I am your Lord too?”

 

The Captain doesn’t flinch at the insinuation and merely stands at attention. With his sword hand at the ready… What a cocky lok sucker-

 

Spock stares at Tavok’s sword hand as the Captain trains his gaze straight ahead. “ We are the Imperial guard, soldiers of the Empire, following the Emperor's commands.”

 

Spock tilts his head and glances down at the floor with a nod. “ Hmm. That you are.”

 

Whether from pride or pettiness, Tavok barks on, turning his body to eye Spock head on. “ Emperor Sybok is my lord and commander, as well as yours, your Highness.”

 

Spock raises his eyebrow once more and tilts his head to the side. “ That my brother is. You would do well not to remind me of things I already know, Captain.”

 

Tavok purses his lips and draws the corners down into a small frown and laces his fingers over the handle of his sword. He has been doing so gradually so as not to draw Spock’s attention but he gained it the moment he took issue with his squire. Whether corrupted by his brother’s new reign or truly cross with him, Spock can’t tell but such insolence would not stand. I see you...

 

“ You would forgive me sire-” he begins affably, to hide the fact he is shifting his weight to strike out against him. “ I would have thought that the le’matya’s poison would have dulled your senses. That or your komihn’s simple intellect would have lead to your colluding with the rebellion...you are a bastard alien afterall-”

 

The wet, crackling snap of bone caving rings out in the ready room from the force of Spock’s whetstone and is quickly followed by the wet, twisting squelch of his dagger’s blade. The lipitah hits its mark in the small space between his armor over his heart and long, pleated faulds at his waist.

 

Tavok coughs and sputters in confusion before wheezing in pain as Spock adjusts his grip and snakes the blade further in. Spock’s vaguely aware of the astonishment sweeping across those around them as he glares down at the dying Captain. He keeps the malice from his face but allows it to color his voice as the male dresses him down. “ Consider yourself whetted.”

 

The company around them freezes in shock and even has one other Captain gasping in surprise. Spock blinks away from Tavok and looks from face to face, taking pleasure as each one of them dropped their gazes. All seemed subservient for the moment but he would still have to have continue to vet them for signs of mutiny.

 

“ Just as I said before, I like to inspect my weapons before battle and this one…” he grunts, wrenching the blade further into his gut of the gargling male. “ this one was damaged and would have gotten me killed.”

 

After a series of nervous swallows and nods, Spock yanks both the stone and the dagger free and lets Tavok’s body crash to the floor. “ I have no time to whet you all to see if all of you are without blemish but I swear to fucking Surak if any of you Selhat sucking, gobby, common trollops shows me that you are, you will wish I did you in as I have now with this gaping twat here.”

 

Spock pulls a cloth from his pocket and frees it of the wet green dripping across its surface. While inspecting the hilt for anymore blood, he speaks to the former Captain’s first officer. “ Congratulations on your promotion, Commander Stoval. You are hereby Captain of the vessel. It will not be a problem.”

 

The pale faced Commander bows quickly and once more as his nerves get the better of him. “ Thank you, your Highness. No, not at all your Highness. It is an honor, Sire.”

 

Spock’s lips quirk at his fear and sheaths his blade back down at his side. “ As it should be, Captain.”

As he wraps the whetstone in the sordid cloth and hands it over to Sasek, he addresses the rest of them.

 

“ It does not matter where we land. Wherever you place me, I will kill every sod, defiant or loyal to the crown, that I see until Delta Prime begs for mercy.”

 

“ Yes your Highness.” they call in unison. Spock surveries them once again and relishes the thought of returning home to have Sybok do the same. It was time for both brothers to reap what they had sown but first he had to deal with his forefathers’ sins.

 

“ I shall not give it to her though. Delta Prime wants so badly to be an examples for the masses. I verily intend on making one of her.”

 

Spock glances down on the lifeless body below and leans forward to retrieve the sword along its belt. With a sharp tug, it comes free with the leather bands trailing behind it. Looking it over, Spock hands it to Sasek, who blinks up at him in question. “ For you cousin. No one goes against family but family. Use it to paint Delta purple as a thank you to your Lord.”

 

Sasek nods humbly and cradles the sword next to the cloth-covered whetstone. “ Yes, your Highness.”

 

Spock spins on his heels and walks briskly towards the down. “ Let’s hurry this fleet along. That encounter just whet my appetite for more. If I am needed, I shall be back in my cabin, meditating. Dismissed.”

 

He’s halfway down the corridor when he hears the start of words between them.

 

“ I am no longer certain it is the Crown Prince the Emperor was intending to punish.”

 

“ I rather liked him when he was when he was regularly tupping his human. He seems worse now than before acquiring her.”

 

One of the Rear Admirals makes a quick disgusted face down at the remains of the ship’s captain and sighs. “ Surak help us. I don’t know who will end us first, the Deltans or our own.”

 

Sasek turns to the council before following his cousin out the door back to his quarters. “ My Lord is not kind but in many ways he is just. Be about yourself so we do not have to speculate that answer.”

----------

 

He checks on Nyota as he told her he would. It is a pity that she had to be dismissed so early. The famed hostess’s misery had rubbed quite nicely against his buoyant mood but Sybok has never been one for vomit and his guests seemed similarly inclined.

 

Besides, he rather looked forward to making excuses to seeing her after his fete. All evening as he wined and dined his way through his coronation feast, Sybok thought of how he would come to her. And the longer he pondered it the more hungry he became.

 

He first stops by his new chambers, deep within the heart of the court, richly dressed various shades of green. Jade, emeralds and green marble compose many of the rooms and all are accented in either gold or latnium.

 

Sybok stands before his dressing mirror as his staff quickly dismantle the elaborate robe he wears. He watches their hands quickly and quietly peel layer after layer from his person while his butler prepares his pipe with the Bolian tobacco he received this evening. The citrus fragrance of its furry leaves fill his nose and soothes what nerves he does feel frayed from sending Spock away.

 

Once ready, the gaunt looking male extends the long stemmed pipe towards his hand and Sybok gratefully takes it into his mouth and inhales as the butler follows up with the flame.

 

Sybok closes his eyes and holds the smoke in as he reviews the day in his mind. There is a great many number of things he enjoyed about it but in particular is the freedom of his father and brother’s loathing.

 

Sarek had always sour towards him, it seemed at times for merely existing. No matter the display or rare displays of gratitude he fed him, each interaction had been begrudging.

 

Spock’s hurt more since they had always been fond of each other. Sybok’s eyes flutter open as he exhales through his nose and studies the ache in his chest. Spock, kindred and rare. He checks the bond between them and feels Spock’s brooding from halfway across the galaxy. No matter, Spock would do as he was told and make things work as he always has. He would return to the palace but he would find Nyota not as he left her.

 

Sybok draws on his pipe again and nods towards the gold and russet sleeping robe as the maids prepare his bath. He would have to bathe again after his visit with Nyota but did want to attend her whilst dirty with the day’s grit still on him. It was only polite.

 

He relaxes into the water and closes his eyes to his thoughts once more. He did not hate either Spock or Nyota...just detested their exclusion of him. There were a great many who adored and feared him but who was there to love him?

 

His mother had, he knows it as if it were instinctual and perhaps his father had in the beginning before his mother passed. T’Vas, his beloved and bondmate, was lost to him and Lady Amanda did not care for what she saw in him. When all was said and done, Spock was the only lover of his ka’tra and accepted him in truth.

 

Spock wasn’t struck by emotion like the others but cherished Sybok just the same. He gave him a buoyancy that had not been there as he wore the heavy burden of being Crown Prince. T’Vas had done that for a spell until she...he had...they-

 

Sybok rises from the water and marches out towards his sleeping robe. Nothing good would come of dwelling on her and T’Vas was not to be the female of this particular hour. That honor would go to his new bond-sister.

 

His attendants trail behind him, stumbling over themselves to towel him off before the others dress him. Sybok tilts his head at his reflection as they rest the robe upon his shoulders, counting the silvery scar lining his body. He wonders idly what his lovers notice first about his body and what it inspires thereafter.

 

Do they fancy his figure, and the lean muscle and hair that covers it? Do his battle scars make them wary or secretly thrill them that he has been so thoroughly seasoned in battle? Did they see him as inviting or an enigma such as Spock? Did they think him beautiful like his brother or handsome like his father was?

 

A tall maid sees to combing and oiling his hair, lingering on his beard as she tries to appear demure as her fingers glance his skin. She has been reading his thoughts and doing a poor job of being discreet about it but Sybok rarely ever takes offense to those who do. Any telepathy compared to his own is just a wisp of what he holds inside of him. He has been bred for such talents and those bold enough to engage him, he favors.

 

From what she gleaned, the maid is pleased with what she’s seen both inside his mind and out along his body. She’s nervous and afraid but her timid attraction flatters him. She’s bonded of course but all maids and butler know of the debauchery that transpire within these halls. Or rather the royals’ wings and lining their purses for food shelter appeal more than fidelity.

 

Slowly as if he may bite she moves to the fine-tooth comb to scratch softly at the whiskers beneath his chin. A low purr begins in his chest and slowly rises to his throat at the coquettish gesture.

 

She nibbles at her lips and continues, steadily gaining more confidence in pleasing her Lord and Master. It has the feel of someone trying to tame a wild creature with a small offering of food or kindness which for Sybok makes it all the more adorable. He rather enjoys the naive ones.

 

Any other time Sybok might entertain the thought of having her keep him company but tonight he has another in mind. When he catches her eye her expression brightens and the dim bond between them blossoms. He smiles gently and catches her hand and brings their fingers into a chaste Vulcan kiss. “ Slippers. I shall check on Spock’s human now.”

 

Her elation at his attention moves into a sad sort of rejection as she nods and does his bidding. Sybok watches her move to obey him and grinds his teeth in a way that leaves his canines aching. All but Nyota had readily obeyed him. Her and his late bondmate. Why was it that Nyota had taken to him in such a way? Why did she so thoroughly despise him with so little to go on?

 

He had felt her attraction there on the colonnade in all its many accolades. How impressive she thought his stature, the way his height made her stomach flutter and how she thought his face to be ruggedly becoming. And yet she has continued to treat him like a limbless leper.

 

Foul fuckling . Sybok places long glided pipe on the waist high pillar next to the mirror and silently exhales across his attendants with his lips tightly pursed.

 

All his questions are secondary to what truly irks him, and if he were honest, pains him. Why did she chose Spock over him?

 

Both similar in looks and intellect, Sybok wonders in an uncomfortable silence if he was lacking something that his brother somehow singularly inherited? And even more troubling, why did he even bloody care about either of the former questions?

 

Fastening his belt about his waist, Sybok turns on his freshly slipped feet towards the door and finds it opening for him as his guards and maids file out behind him. He didn’t have the answers yet but if they continue to nag him he would to find out the answers. For the time being, however, Nyota Uhura is a means to an end, a tool of discipline used only to bring his brother back into the fold and if necessary to break him.

 

Ordering Spock to bring the Deltans to their senses was just the first call to order. For the next one, Sybok intends to lend a helping hand. Tonight.

 

Sybok quietly makes his way down the cavernous halls, noting the few souls who still move about in the dim light of the lanterns and the Watcher’s pale light. Outside a sandstorm is brewing but other than the electric buzz of the forcefield protecting the palace it does nothing to disturb the quietude of the court.

 

It’s somewhat of an early evening for the typical Vulcan but humans don’t have the same sleep schedule. The poor dears’ weak constitution leads them to their beds hours earlier than he would find himself doing but creates a choice opportunity therein.

 

Sybok reaches the exterior hall door to Nyota’s chambers and dismisses the whole of her guard and maids with a sweep of his mind. The ones posted at the doors open and close the great slabs of wood behind him and wander aimlessly behind the others soon after.

 

Stepping further inside, Sybok take a moment to review her foyer and is surprised by its lack of finery. No wonder Spock was trying to pepper her with gifts and wares, they’re didn’t seem to be much else other than the standard furniture and treatments that were there to begin with. The scrolls and PADDs littering the small desk in the next room seem to be all that she hoards, along with a wardrobe of dancewear and costumes. Quite the austere princess he thinks moving towards her bedroom.

 

He gently presses the handle down and crack the door open a sliver. No light over than the Watcher’s illuminates the room. He spies her bed off to the left and sees a still figure lying down on the left hand side. She’s asleep .

 

Sybok silently makes his way to her bedside, discarding his slippers to avoid any noise they may make. As he comes to the edge, he sees her half draped by the duvet and wedged between a dozen or so pillows. Fast asleep and none the wiser.

 

He makes sure to keep it that way by placing a pointed pinch at her shoulder along her suprascapural nerve. Other than a faint arching of her back against the bed, she does not move another inch.

 

He watches her now, noting the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the dislodged strape of her slip as she arched earlier riding along her bicept and the soft swell of her breasts outlined by the shift’s fabric. Blissfully unaware of his existence and his intentions. He thinks of how laboring it would be for her if she were to know he was right beside her as she slept, how hard it would be for her to catch her breath knowing he was hovering over her at her most vulnerable and rolls hums at the thought of her reactions. Humans were unpredictable at times but he has the odds in his favor in this instance.

 

His eyes wander across her until the settle on her hair. It’s bound and up even as she sleeps but his hands soon have it down and around her. He carefully rubs a curl between his fingers and savors the feel of it. Soft, wooly and fragile, unlike his late-bondmate, T’Vas but their temperament is much the same.

 

Maybe that’s why he hates her or can’t leave her alone.

 

Sybok pauses in his reframe and sees the tangled mess of once was Nyota’s curl knotted between his thumb and forefinger. He huffs and flicks it down back to where the rest of her hair lies on the pillow and climbs onto the bed. Nyota slumbers on as Sybok pulls the duvet from her and comes closer to where she lays. With not a thought to Spock or a care to who might see, Sybok unties the belt of his robe and takes a hold to the back of her knees to push her legs apart.

 

They do so easily, lithe and light from years of dance and recent months of Spock’s own special form of training and have Sybok swallowing hungrily at the sight.

 

How shall I do it , he wonders, pulling her closer to his waist. He tilts his head with a knowing glitter to his eyes as he thinks of how he outmaneuvered his brother once again . They each know the oath he swore and how it bars him from such actions but he cannot force what can’t be acknowledged. Unconscious as she is, force will not be an issue and thus his word was still bond.

 

Nyota sighs and shifts along the bedding as if she may rose at any moment. Sybok blinks at her with heavy lids and runs his hand along the underside of her jaw. He’ll have to meld with her to keep her that way but the prospect of finally having her thrills him.She is his now. Spock should have shared when he had the chance. No he won’t have any of her but what Sybok gives him.

 

I told you I’d fuck you but this won’t be the time that you’ll never forget….our game is just beginning...best out of three...

 

No one crosses him and for those who do...he make sures they reap everything they sow thrice over. Spock was...beyond worth to him. In many ways he sees Spock as much as a son as he was a brother, having been his closest confidant from childhood over.

 

They had seen many things together as Princes and shared so much history...and he forsook the lot of it for her!  Abandons his flesh and blood for a Terran harlot. Betrays him...

 

As soon as it became clear that Spock had jilted him in favor of his own version of T’Vas, Sybok laid plans to rein him back in. Spock’s death has never been the goal but for Sybok’s pain and suffering he thinks it would be a bittersweet sting to his reparations. He has something far better in mind for his dear baby brother.

 

Sybok has often times heard Spock utter the phrase ‘ After a time, you might find that having is not so pleasing of a thing after all as wanting .’ It is that quote that Sybok finds his vengeful solace. He would show Spock how wrong he was, how much he will soon wish for ‘having’ instead once the truth has been relieved.

 

Sybok exhales slowly and strokes his fingers across Nyota’s face, tracing the shadows that fall across it. As the tips brush over her psi points, the cool touch of her mind tugs at his hand with a chilly tingle. The only comparison he can think to draw is the foggy embrace of Andoria’s air, bracingly cold and yet strangely humid. And just like that foreign land, the newly minted Emperor plans to conquer each valley and peak and reign it as his own.

 

He smiles then, curling his ring and little finger against his palm to run kiss across her temple and down along her neck.

 

Spock betrayal would be paid in kind. Blood for blood, a bastard for the bastard, an heir for either Emperor’s throne...by bedding Spock’s beloved Nyota.

 

Spock has always been loyal to him but this...female has inspired all sorts of defiance in him. Where his baby brother was once cruel he now shows mercy. He has been seen thanking the help, as if they deserved it. He has even stopped taking as he pleased! He waits on her word like some selhat begging meekly for a bone from its master. This was the same male that had once broken in all of Sybok’s potential harem mates, in a single night to chose a gift for his anniversary of birth. This is the same male who had terrorized the alpha quadrant and half of the known galaxy by his side and now...he was sensitive…

 

Sybok huffs in disgust and blinks down at Nyota splayed down below him.

 

Somehow, someway, this seductress has made Spock bend to her. He has been made soft in his domestication and Sybok would make him hard and leveled headed once again. She will know the truth of all of them and will no longer step out of line.

 

Nimble as a thief his fingers divest her of her modesty, pulling and pushing her shift until her breasts and her mound are free to him. Sybok hovers above her on his hands and knees, drinking in the sight of her in an attempt to see what Spock sees.

 

Surely her hair draws him, even Sybok can’t resist running his fingers across it and in the muted glow of the waning crescent of the Watcher her rosy brown skin remains as luminescent as ever. It was truly a wonder that such a brilliantly Vulcan like intelligence is housed within the delicately, beautiful figure of a human. Rare she was and rarer still to world now that he possesses her. Such syrupy thoughts remind him of Sarek when it came to Lady Amanda and again he is struck with elation at his absence.

 

That his father is out of the game serves him well. Doing this task would be difficult to say the least if both he and Spock were still in residence. Nyota was charged by his father to provide an heir for the crown and its the only commission Sybok purposes to see done himself.

 

Reflexively his hand goes to her temple and locks her mind into its sleepy respite. “ Nyota...I have a surprise for you…” he murmurs roughly with the bass of his voice disturbing the silence of the room.

 

Drawing her closer, he positions her legs on either side of his own and grips soundly by her thighs. He takes his lok in hand and strokes it from root to tip above the concave hollow of her navel. He is ready for her now but so no need to rush what he planned to indulge in all night. This is special, this is his first time with her. Taking his time to treat himself is something he would exercise what little patience he has.

 

The motion of his self-pleasure disturbs the air and brings Spock’s scent to his nose. His lip involuntarily curls and has him abandoning his lok for her leg again. She reeks of him, positively pungent with the smell of him. “ Let’s change your perfume, shall we?”

 

Leaning down onto one forearm, Sybok retrieves his lok again to align it to her center when he is hit with revelation. Her scent...he could not smell Nyota - only Spock. Sybok angles his head with his beard brushing along her shoulder to catch her scent closer to her neck.

 

It has changed...is she with child?

 

He closes his eyes and concentrates on the smell, crawling down to her mound until noses against the wiry curls there. Maybe...perhaps but it is not obvious. Perhaps his seed has taken but her egg seeks to reject it as it’s a foreign body. It was not unheard of or even uncommon but the possibility of her pregnancy has put a snare in his plans.

 

Sybok huffs despondently and kisses her softly around her neck. He is derailed from the next step of his envisioned ascension but only until he can determine the status of her carriage.

 

He leans up above her and chuckles with a caress of her cheek. “ You always find ways to surprise me, Ms. Uhura. Always.”

 

Her pretty face dozes on, mocking him even as she slept.

 

Looks as if he would be with the maid after all. Sure he could take Nyota now but he would hate to let a good erection go to waste. Besides he wants to have his spirits lifted before he possibly amends his plans.


As he jumps clear of the bed, Sybok leaves Nyota to wake as she lays now, to draw her own conclusions.

Chapter Text

“ This is bloody torture...I can’t anymore...”

 

Nyota rests her face on the large table in her study and groans against the PADD. She can’t believe it. She finally has time to herself, seemingly free of Princes, performances and general mayhem and she now has to devote it to the ghastly science of biochemistry .

 

She peeps through her lashes and groans at the PADD still displaying the diagram. It wasn’t fair, truly, it isn’t.

 

Sybok has her, running around like the Emperor’s hand, looking to gain her approval on most everything he does.

 

Every day he lobs question after question at her. Does she fancy the new wall tapestries? Did she favor Terran cacti or Bolian myrtles for the new garden plaza? Did he look fetching in his orange robe laced with bronze? That time, he was meeting with the Cardassians and did not wish to disappoint so she had to give her most sincere open of a begrudgingly mumbled yes.

 

Oh, and lest she forget; did she prefer to sleep in her quarters or his?

 

The last query has been a most troubling issue. For whatever his reasons, Sybok would often join Nyota in her chambers to slumber at night. He is never there when she first retires, as it would only be the late afternoon for him.

 

Like most humans on Vulcan, fatigue calls her to bed far earlier than that of the Vulcan natives. Usually between the final set of one sun and the sinking of the other, does Nyota lie in bed, penning letters or reading at her leisure. In the time The Watcher rides the horizon, she senses the Emperor's nearness, just like that of her discarded PADD tangled in her sheets. He’s not there every night nor is Sybok always asleep when she does sense him but his frequent visits  are enough to upset her from resting soundly.

 

One moment she’s resting soundly, unaware of the world around her and next her eyes are blinking into the inky darkness of her room. Slowly, she realizes her reason for waking, the large, warm body that’s curled either around or behind her.

 

For a few, terrifying moments her breath goes still while her heart runs away to her ribcage as she tries to assess what is happening. And then on her next inhale, is when she typically catches his scent. Not Spock. Him . Dry wood and citrus fill her nose as he breathes quietly against her, cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

 

Upon further inspection, she sees that Sybok’s naked body spoons her in an almost perverse sort of tenderness. The semi rigid length butted against her adds to the discomfort of how intimately he is pressed against her. At least she’s never woken up to find him deep inside her, great miracle that is.

Delicious warmth rolls off of him and infuses her limp figure like a blanket. The gentle circle of his arms only remind her of his brother and the threat they pose as the bearded brute holds her. And as hard as it is to be alone and cold once again, each night Nyota quietly extracts herself on the far side of the bed.

 

Fortunately, the odd cuddling is all Sybok does though there are times that Nyota wakes at night to find him watching her sleep from the bed or the doorway. Just as his warmth stirs her consciousness, his dark eyes breed her paranoia. They are times that their eyes meet. He holds her gaze as if he is deciding to do something awful but he never does. He either leaves the room or lies down beside her, after shedding his clothing.

 

That time is the worst because he pulls her against him and nuzzles her face into his hand. The presence of his telepathy washes over her in sleepy, drunken waves as if he’s nothing more than a common Vulcan but the building strength of it reminds Nyota very much that Sybok is a prodigy when it comes to his senses. There are times that he join their minds to do nothing more than observe her.

 

It frightens her, of course, but she’s yet to find a solution to keep Sybok from doing so.

 

As a result, Nyota’s sleep and studies have suffered. It was always going to be a struggle to rack her brain to make heads or tails of the multi-branch isoprenoids pathway but doing so without more than 4 hours of sleep seems near impossible.

 

Nyota groans again and closes her eyes to the sight. Did she really need to know why plants did what they did? No matter the planet, light, water and certain conditions were required. But fuck all if it didn’t numb her brain to read it now.

 

She rolls her head across the table and groans again. “ Surak take me, I don’t care anymore…”

 

“ Care about what, ash-vel?”

 

Nyota jerks up from the table with her eyes wide, catching sight of Sybok standing leisurely up against the archway of the door. He’s dressed splendidly as ever in a trim tailored robe accented with thick bronze piping. The dark hue of violet somewhat washes out his tawny glow of his skin, making him almost as pale as Spock.

 

One ring-encrusted hand hangs loosely at his side while the palms a large silver bowl of pla-sava (Vulcan grapes; a potent alien fruit to humans). She’s merely guessing at this distance but the marbled blue-black skin of the fruit along with sweet aroma of its flesh gives her a hint.

 

Her eyes leave the bowl and peer timidly over his face. Nothing about the set of his mouth denotes his mood but as she stares more closely, Nyota can see where the fruit’s juices have stained his lips plum red. Popping one into his mouth, Sybok nods at her with steely eyes. “ Your malaise is giving me indigestion. What bothers you so?”

 

Nyota straightens in her chair and tries to not take offense of what is not at all her fault. It was probably all the drinking and smoking that disturbs his system, not her irritation. “ I am trying to catch up on my studies. Since Spock...took his leave for the war, I have fallen behind.”

 

This is somewhat of a lie. It’s Sybok’s meddling with questions, her expected attendance at frivolous trifles or what he calls council meetings and his insistent nocturnal visits that have her struggle to keep up.

 

Of course she can’t say that. She gestures over her PADD and avoids Sybok’s hot, dissecting gaze. “Most of my subjects are progressing well enough but I am befuddled over flora biochemistry. The sheer volume of isoprenoids and their functions therein pains me.”

 

Sybok tilts his head with a lazy blink and slowly crosses the room towards her. “ What ever are you doing this for?”

 

He stops by her side and peers over her shoulder, towards the PADD. The scant distance between them throbs at her temples as she feels his mind’s proximity. It’s not painful but still grates her nerves. She feels smothered without being physically touched. It’s not at all like Spock’s bond, which draws her like a bee to honey but cloying like she’s being drowned in him.

 

Nyota slides her body away fractionally as he leans closer to deposit the fruit on the table but answers him all the same. “ As a part of showing my mastery of the subject, my tutor and I agreed on a project. I was going to crossbred and create Terran-Vulcan plant hybrids with some of our faster maturing floras.”

 

Sybok’s dark eyes dart from the screen to her face and over the table. “ An interesting prospect. I can see why he would agree to such an undertaking.”

 

He takes a seat then, moving his chair until it’s almost butted against her own. His scent is very faint today. Only a glancing whiff of smoke and citrus cut through the sweet smell of the fruit. Perhaps he has just bathed or visited the ornamental pools?

 

Whatever the case, Nyota finds his docile nature to be more of a distraction than his aroma. For all Spock and Nyota’s time here at the palace, Sybok spent trying to fondle and harass her. Since Spock’s departure, Sybok’s been far more reserved as if he’s got manners about him. Sehlats would sooner fly before that ever happened.

 

She would almost discount his behavior as a waning interest in her but Nyota can feel his intense focus whenever they near one another. He summons her constantly, dines with her frequently and sleeps beside her every chance he gets. And now he asks after her affairs? What evenhanded trickery is this?

 

Maybe he is planning something but what? She thought it was all a plot to punish Spock but his current demeanor makes her think it’s a ruse for something more. Perhaps his goals have evolved but to what end? What the hell did Sybok want from her?

 

Sybok speaks, probably sensing her discord and implores further over the project. “ You have yet to tell me what worries you, Uhura.”

 

Nyota swallows at the sound of her last name from his mouth. It’s strange to hear it come without lust or malice, almost as if he’s halfway decent.

 

Glancing at his face, Sybok seems earnest and yet, it feels like a trap. Dressed in the finest threads to be found in the galaxy, Sybok’s court colored robes for visiting delegates is oddly out of place here away from his throne room. He is prepared to govern the known universe and yet he is here... helping her. Why? Nyota sucks at her bottom lip and nibbles at it anxiously.

 

As if to further ease her tension, Sybok reclines over the table with his elbows to support him. It’s a human gesture that strangely suits him, and even more bizarrely, calms her. His lashes dip low as he stares down at her hands which rest on top of the PADD. He motions with a pointed nod for her to continue and waits.

 

Trap or not, it’s clear he won’t leave her be until he’s done his part in alleviating her distress. Nyota pauses in chewing her bottom lip and pulls up the screen to display her assigned reading.

 

“ If I don’t memorize and understand all the different proteins and processes, I may end up creating something poisonous or worse, unviable.”

 

Sybok tilts his head and for a moment strikes a frightening similarity to Spock in looks. Her chest clenches in response but the heartache is short lived as Sybok swiftly extracts the PADD from under her hands and scrolls through the text.

 

Nyota cranes her head to look at what he’s reading and glances over at his blank face. “ What are you doing? I thought you knew biochemistry? I wouldn’t think your father would let your tutors get away with it.”

 

A small smile at the corner of his lips evinces his amusement and he nods at her with a lick of his lips. “Of that you can be sure.”

 

With his eyes still trained upon the tablet screen, he answers her first two questions. “ I know of Vulcan biochemistry but not that of Terra’s. Processes vary slightly due to the abundance, or rather the overkill, of water found on your world.”

 

Sybok’s gaze traces back and forth and up and down as he follows the spiralling script of his mother tongue. Two more minutes pass and he slips the PADD back under Nyota’s fingers. “A fascinating read.”

 

Nyota scrunches her faces and looks between him and the PADD. “ A fascinating read? The chapter?”

 

“ No. The book. Master Railik’s writing has greatly improved. He no longer comes off as a complete and utter bore. Science is as much an art as it is an exacting study of nature. Most of his journals read like a stehkun tevun ( seven year old).” he notes with a scoff.

 

Nyota throws her head back in dejection and sighs up towards the ceiling. “ I can’t believe you read the whole book in three minutes and only felt a mild case of boredom.”

 

Sybok smiles at her again and nearly chuckles at her fit. “ It is a simple thing. See here.”

 

More quickly than she can figure and even more than she can protest, Sybok places a hand at waist, the other at her brow and takes her mind under his own. She only has time to blink before the young Emperor is twisting their thoughts into a tangled, united mess.

 

They are in neither her or his but flowing between the two. Soon his strikingly handsome face fades from view and is replaced by the cells she was so intently studying. Sybok shift his focus from melding them together to the biotic functions of Terra’s flora.

 

She feels herself sigh as it unfolds before her like a holovid, playing at thrice its typical speed and a richer color saturation. Divide, nurture, defend and supply; all of the proteins she seeks to figure out act through her. Not only that, she feels it. By the end, Nyota knows it as intuitively as one would know their native tongue. By Surak, she understands!

 

Immediately after the intellectual exchange, Sybok’s pride peppers Nyota’s skin with goosebumps. He’s pleased to have been the one to show her and have her so elated by the newfound knowledge. He also amends his opinion of her, acknowledging her brilliance. He knew her to be clever but in this light meld, Sybok knows her to be insightful as well.

 

Nothing compares to your wit. We will be forever at odds because of it he thinks, bemused by her canniness. Tapping her lightly on the brow with his forefinger, Sybok releases her mind as easily as one exhales their breath.

 

The speed and skill in which he does so, has Nyota awestruck. She can’t help but concede how masterful the elder brother is with his psionic powers. He did after all bond them together, however lightly, with no one the wiser.

 

Spock is plentiful powerful but Sybok’s mental dexterity seems surreal. His sanity however…

 

Nyota stops herself from thinking on it more from fear of eavesdropping. She was never quite certain when he was listening in on her. As a rule of thumb, unless she was shielding herself, Nyota thinks Sybok to be privy to most all her musing.

 

An enigmatic smile settles over his face as he slides the bowl closer in a silent offer to share. “ You see? It is not so hard when you think of it as such”.

 

“ Thank you...for all of it, your Grace.” she says accepting the fruit. He nods and watches her pluck one of the large, black spheres free of the spiny stems. His thoughts feel far from her as he watches her neatly nash the orb inside her mouth.

 

Nyota shifts her elbows onto the table and studies him back. Not for the first time confused by the male he is. Sybok is, without a doubt, monstrous; a evil she always thought the Vulcan overlords to be. Their current interaction nags at her as ominous and she can’t help but pick at the scab.

 

She swallows her fruit and quickly licks the sugary pulp from her lips. Whether from curiosity or stupidity ( probably both) Nyota finally asks him what she wishes to know. “ Why are you being nice to me?”

 

He keeps his eyes on her as he retrieves a pla-savas for himself and sucks it between his lips, none to subtly. “ I don't see why not. If I cannot catch the beast I quest with fear and sharpness than I shall lure her with the temptation of sweet words and honey.”

 

Nyota scoffs and pops another grape-like mound into her mouth. “ So I am to be a beast now?” At least he has decreased his use of calling her sister.

 

“ I thought you would enjoy that more than being called a whore, to which you’ve always taken offense.” he chuckles, with his eyes bright and smiling.

 

Nyota clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes before she can stop herself. “ Because I’m neither a whore or beastie. I’m an artist of the highest caliber. I’ve entertained royalty the galaxy wide and the whole lot of you here. Yet now, I sit here wasting such talent to someone who thinks I’m nothing more than a fancy bawd.”

 

“ An artist?” Sybok enthuses, as much as a Vulcan could. “ I’ve seen you perform before but I was no more moved by your work than any other.”

 

“ That’s because you were being simple and critiquing my art with your other head, your Grace.” she scoffs.

 

Sybok smirks sourly at her barbing but chuckles with that Vulcan hum of his. “ Out of turn as you are, you have a point. Very well. You say you’ve entertained the whole sodding galaxy, then do one better and entertain the ruler of it.”  

 

He challenges with his hand extended towards the empty floor of her study and to their great surprise, she does. Nyota only takes a moment to finish chewing the last of her fruit before she re-laces her slippers and waltzes across the floor.

 

Once she gains the open length of it, Nyota set the stage with the command of her presence. And as she dances, Sybok sees Nyota for who she is, truly witnessing what had bewitched his brother and three quarters of the court. Someone special, someone singular and someone raw.

 

The dance she does for him is unlike the one that teased his brother or the spirited jig she composed for their father. He best describes it as unruly. Each pose she strikes and leap she lands comes off volatile and rowdy.

 

Nyota is not daring him to challenge her in this performance. Forward as she is towards him, this cavorting is more of a warning. The feralness of her expression speaks of her unbroken nature. This fierce, little human, however orderly, remains untame by his brother and the rest of Vulcan.

 

Sybok’s startled by the revelation but also hungered by it. She laid down her defense by the way of words and revealed her worth in a wealth of talent.

 

When she halts at the end, Sybok realises that he has paused a touch too long to seem unaffected. “That was - most spirited.”

 

She daintily lifts her brow and tilts her head, mockingly, to the side. “ Spirited?” she asks, she panting at the air.

 

Sybok shrugs nonchalantly and runs a finger over the lip of the bowl. “ Perhaps, I could be moved to give your craft a more befitting superlative if you were to sing?”

 

He knows his voice drips with excitement as he cajoles her to sing but cannot help himself. It’s taking all of his discipline to compose his face. This fickle creature is actually entertaining his interest and for once it is not that of his loins.

 

She’s so much like her and yet it feels as she could be no further from a Vulcaness in nature he thinks as Nyota shucks herself free of her shoes and prepares her voice. If he were to cover her head and just observe her figure then perhaps he could deceive himself but no matter how much Nyota favors his lost lover, she is altogether human.

 

She turns her heads towards him then and makes a curious face as she looks him over. “ Wistful, your Grace?”

 

Sybok covers his mouth with his hand and scoffs behind it. “ Hardly. As if I’m capable.”

 

“Yes. Quite.” she replies, smiling. Clearly her throat, Nyota runs herself through a warm up. Sybok does a warm up of his own, running his eyes up and down her body. After her third scale, Sybok sucks at the air and hums to himself. “ I wonder…”

 

“...fancy that…” Nyota mumbles beneath her breath. Sybok shoots a cool look which earns him a sheepish bow of her head. Sybok glares at her a beat longer before finishing his thought. “ I wonder if you know Falor’s Journey?”

 

It’s her turn to scoff now as Nyota fights her will not to laugh. “ Your Grace will forgive me if I do not know all 348 versus of Vulcan prose by heart?”

 

“ Would if you earned it, Master artisan.” he taunts back, reaching back into the bowl. “ If not Falor’s journey then what shall you sing to me?”

 

His bravado stutters as she lifts her voice and sends it piercing through the air. Sybok sighs between the slight part of his lips and closes his eyes to the sound she makes. On his next breath he listens to the words she says.

 

It’s a silly little diddy of a thing but Nyota’s voice compels it to be more than it is. More than the nonsensical questions that she trills and deeper than the theoretical damage she says her heart suffers from. Who could ever imagine stopping the rain or ceasing the light of a star? It almost sounds happy but the words tell him otherwise.

 

Vulcan is spoken but the composition and song are Terran in nature. Sybok has heard the song before but to his knowledge there has never been one to arrange the piece into Vulcan words and harmonies.

 

Translating as she goes, what a clever, little girl he muses as she swings back to the chorus.

 

She dances, recites poetry with a most curious cadence and plays all number of instruments but it’s when she sings that Sybok is beside himself.

 

Perhaps it’s because she’s sad? Forlorn as she is at brother’s absence and said cad taking her into hand, it would be easy to conclude the reason for her melancholy choice in song. Or maybe it’s as she says, that Spock has decided to temper his lust and truly take her in as an equal and lover of his soul and that she has lost him, Nyota has lost her happiness.

 

Marvelous. Sybok’s gaze grows heavy lidded and starry as Nyota fills the air with all manner of emotion towards the bridge and last stanza. From that tiny little body of hers, Nyota could hardly know that she had enthralled yet another Vulcan royal into her sphere of being. Even more troubling is this Vulcan’s quest to replace the reality of who they are now with the dream of who they could be.

 

For the first time in ages, Sybok is happy and for the first time since T’Vas, he desires to share it.

-----------

Delta Prime

 

The air is a thick, opaque blue but his senses, all seven of them, move his feet deftly over the ground he cannot see. It’s spring on Delta Prime and the air is still cool from the lingering touch of winter. The scent of young foliage and rain, however, is unmistakable.

 

The six of the thirteen moons brighten the dense, sapphire mist swirling around the Commander but the beauty of this night does little to soothe his nerves. The new Crown Prince is ravaging their lands and with his platoon stationed just outside of their world’s Capital, it is only a matter of time before the green-blooded beast around at their city’s gates reach it.

 

Those Goddamn Vulcans and their disregard of life Silavee thinks as he trudges through the fog. The Terrans said it best that they called them satan’s spawn, even if they were just going on looks .

 

He pulls his cloak tighter and a grim cant sets over his face. These were dark days ahead of them, if they couldn’t wiggle free from beneath these savages’ thumbs.

 

They had thought Sarek’s rule to be harsh. Heavy taxation, galactic tolls and puppet politicians had kept the Deltans poor on resources and relatively in check. They could provide for themselves but prosperity was a privilege left to their overlords.

 

The fateful news of the Emperor’s failing health ignited them into action to see themselves free of at least the alien governors. They had bet well that Mindlord supreme would hardly bothered to make a last stand against them if it meant he would more than likely fall prey to alien hands. Too much would be read into his demise and the Vulcan Empire would have more than just the Deltans revolting against their leashes.

 

The start of their rebellion had been a hopespring for those who were hungry for it. With their Vulcan masters either subdued or slain, the whole of Delta’s people made provisions to defend their freedom. A sizable minority sought out vessels to begin life elsewhere in the universe while the vast majority prepared to defend their worlds.

 

Those friends knew themselves to be powerful but at the chance of freedom, the Deltans on Prime, Delonyah and Faybiis leaned heavily on their telepathic superiority to give them a new lease on life elsewhere. What they hadn’t taken into account was the miasma of madness ruling over the Vulcan royal house. What else could it be called; they was seemingly no true rationale behind it.

 

With the Emperor was on his deathbed, it had all seemed so logical to undertake but his impish heirs were just hitting their prime and had a substantial lust for blood. Both demonic in nature and spoiled within an inch of their lives, the pair of them have laid siege to Prime and their solar system’s collective planets. Yes, they knew well the hardship of Sarek’s reign but Delta Leonis soon learned the evil that was his sons.

 

After, the former Crown Prince now Emperor, Sybok had put fire to a number of low lying methane clouds and made off with a good 200 or so of their women, Silavee had thought he had seen the worst of it. But this other brother, this dark-eyed devil, Spock, was death made carnate.

 

Whole countries were laid to ruin overnight and the people,...what’s left of them, almost makes the weary Deltan commander wish for the days of abduction.

 

Silavee spits over to the side and continues his sweep of the perimeter. This new Crown prince could be the end of them. No one knows what drives him but the young Mindlord has lead his legions’ troop like a man possessed.

 

He has swept across the Faybiis like solar flare. Even now one can look up to the night sky and see it still smoldering in space. Reports have come in from Delonyah as the Vulcans poured over from the ruins of Faybiis. No one wants to believe them but there is no reason why anyone would make up such horrid memos.

 

Even more troubling news is that no one living has witnessed the Crown Prince’s assault. Delta Command knows he fights in the worst of the battles. He has to be, just has too. Vulcans are harsh but the exacting nature of Prince Spock’s violence leaves a palpable darkness in its wake.

 

Despite the carnage and savagery, hope still remains among them. There are those among the Deltans whose minds could best the Prince’s if they snared his. If only they could gain a visual confirmation to deploy them. Once they did they would only have to avoid his physical capabilities to bring him low.

 

There were talks of what to do when they finally encountered the demented royal. Some want him brought in to answer for war crime against quadrants and as a bargaining chip to reclaim their stolen women. Most want him to die on sight. Silavee is inclined to agree with the latter. There was no talking with a Vulcan, they suppressed too much of themselves. Such practices lead to chaos.

 

Coming up to the metal corner of the compound, the air stirs and dissipates and reveals the approaching form of his CO and the commander of the fortress. What a pleasant surprise , Silavee thinks, he wasn’t suppose to return from Delonyah for another 5 star cycles .

 

“ Captain Yllie.” Silavee tucks his chin to his chest, exposing his bald head in greeting and deference before lifting it with a smile.

 

The elder returns the gesture and smile slowly as he walks towards him. His voice is flippantly light as he calls back. “ Silavee...”

 

Silavee pauses at the curious tone of his voice, almost as if Yllie is hesitant in using it. They stop a few feet from one another and feel each other out mentally. The presence of Yllie’s cool placidity soon calms Silavee’s apprehension and has him falling in step with him.

 

“ Where are you headed now, Commander?” Yllie asks. His eyes are still on the perimeter which gives Silavee another measure of peace. “ To the barracks now. My watch is over.”

 

“ Very good. I was just headed there myself.” the Captain answers warmly. They walk side by side, disturbing the air current around them in splotchy swirls of teal, until the compound’s gleaming gates came in view.

 

The Kolara compound, outside of the Capital's Jundii fortress, is the premier martial grounds of their rebel forces. Batten down with huge comm towers and force field emitters, Kolara plays an integral part in holding their rebellion together. That he is stationed here fills Silavee with pride and dulls the ache of being away from his family back on Delonyah.

 

Silavee speeds up his gait to open the barrack’s door for his Captain and steps aside to allow him to enter. “ It is well to see you again, Captain.”

 

Yllie smiles broadly in response and dips his head before passing through the metal megalith towards the ante chambers. They walk in companionable silence as Yllie checks in at every station and does whatever works is required at the time. For himself, Silavee is just content to attend him, cheered by the presence of his friend in arms as they go from station to station.

 

Yllie is the first to break their easy quietude as they begin to enter the sleep hall with a peculiar declaration. “ I heard you were looking for me, Commander.”

 

Silavee laughs and secures the door behind them. “ A curious statement. I may have thought of you, Captain but I was not seeking you out.”

 

Idling soldiers mill about them, ignorant of the Commander’s confusion as they head to the sonic showers or to their bunks to rest for the night. Yllie nods with a sympathetic expression and agrees with his statement. The elder then retrieves the phasers resting in his holsters and let's his face go blank. “ That’s true. You haven’t been looking for the Captain, Silavee.”

 

Yllie does a quick survey of the room, and turns back towards him with a smile that’s a touch too wide to be friendly. “ But you have been looking for me .”

 

The commander’s faces folds, bewildered as to what the Captain could mean, before bursting into a full expression of shock. “ No…!...Prince Spock…?! But how…?”

 

By then it’s too late. In a flashing show of laser light set to kill, more than of half of the room have been slain by Captain’s phasers. Silavee dodges clumsily and darts off towards the communications board only to find the power offline. He had to get a message out, warn the others to the threat that he can hardly believe. This wasn’t the Captain turning coat but being held prisoner to the Empire. He had brought that beast here, against his will and now they were all going to die.

 

Silavee jabs at the buttons until the thick plastic fractures beneath the weight of his thumb and pierces through the flesh. He curses hoarsely and sucks the injured digit between his lips while slamming his fist against the console. “ Damn you! WORK!”

 

How could a Vulcan meld so deeply with another that he could control the host as well as he could control his own body? How is it that the young Prince worked psi energy as easily as his father was rumored too?

 

“Trying to contact your superiors? I took care of the comm systems long before I found you.”

 

Silavee turns to see the Yllie making his way towards him in a snappy jerk of motions. His face contorts into what is suppose to be a smile but his eyes are too round and his hairless brow too furrowed to give it that expression. “ Silavee, you have one hell of a Captain. Even now he fights against my control.”

 

Silavee draws his phaser and trains it onto Captain’s forehead. The green dot of the weapon’s sight pain him as he aligns the barrel between his eyes. “ You’re not fucking getting away with this.”

 

Yllie’s face snorts and breaks out to laughter as he scans the quiet, motionless room. “ Oh but I have and I am getting away with this.”

 

Silavee’s eyes catch sight of a number of mortal wounds staining the Captain’s fatigues. Once the other caught wind of the Captain’s perceived betrayal, they let loose shots of their own. Looking at the holes placements, Yllie wouldn’t last much longer. Be that as it may, Silavee couldn’t leave Yllie trapped as he was within himself to the whims of the Vulcan enemy. “ I’m really sorry about this Captain.”

 

Yllie’s faces melts into a pout as he points a phaser over towards him. “ If it’s any consolation, Commander, so is he.”

 

The blasts are nearly synchronized as they flash between the two and the pair of them crumple to the barren floor.

 

---------------

Back in ship’s cabin

 

Spock’s eyes pop open as he buckles over towards the floor. His hands go out to support him as his muscles tremor with a trauma that’s not his own. He’s unscathed, of course, but his head still burns with the white hot pain of Yllie’s last moments. Fuck that hurt.

 

His host was killed yet again but at least time he was sitting on the floor with his legs folded underneath him. Spock still had the lump on his head from the last time he mind-bound a Deltan P.O.W.. This time has gone much more smoothly and with a great deal more intelligence to be had. Yllie had been full of secrets.

 

The hiss and snick of his cabin’s door briefly cover the sound of his ragged panting. The soft-sole footfalls of his cousin tickle his ears along with the hollow splash of water filling the glass at his nightstand.

 

Said glass is placed under Spock’s nose and he slowly moves to retrieve it. “ My thanks.”

 

Sasek nods silently and tucks his hands back into the bells of his sleeves as Spock drains the cup of its contents. A few drops stray past his lips down onto the bare plane of his chest in an icy cold sting.

 

He was getting feverish again but he wanted to clear all the compounds surrounding the Capital tonight if he could. It would be then that the ailing Crown Prince would take a brief reprieve of his mind and sword to further recover his strength and try once again to connect his beloved.

 

It has been a solid t’ku’hati (month) since he has last seen Nyota and the trial has grown no easier. Every day that passes without news of her condition and welfare grows harder to stand as he imagined what cruelty she might meet under his brother’s rule. Or just as distressing, what pleasure she may gain from him. Either way, the promise Spock gave her to protect and preserve her to his father, sours his stomach like a bad cheese. He should have fought through it all to preserve her, but he knows he would have died at that confrontation if he was even able to fall his brother.

 

“ Any word from my bondmate?” Spock asks from his seat on the floor.

 

Sasek slowly shakes his head and averts his gaze to the space between them. “ No, my Lord. None yet.”

 

Spock’s blinks in response before pitching the glass across the room in a resounding crash. Sasek startles minutely as his highborn cousin’s face contorts in agony. “ Must everything seek to annoy me!? FUCK!”

 

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily through his nose. He would never admit to pining for her as he is. He almost wonders if the nature of his fever has something to do with her absence by his side.

 

Flashbacks of his condition on Terra after his torrid night of bliss with her the night before seem too close for comfort. His appetite is waning, his lok throbs and even though he is now clear of the venom, Spock’s sleep is still troubled with restlessness. His ka’tra seeks her out but the distance bars his comfort. In turn, he rages for it. “ Cousin? Be a dear and bring the next Deltan twat in.”

 

Sasek nods and bows away towards the door. “ Yes, your Highness.”

 

Spock places his hands on his knees and listens to the screaming growing closer down the hall. “ NO! NO! You’ll have no help from me! I’m loyal to my people! You all are damned to hell as it is! Leave me out of it!”

 

The door opens with the Deltan helmeted head waving about as he struggled to overcoming his captors. Touching him as they were, the guards had no trouble reining the prisoner in. “Damn you all! The moment you tried to suppress your emotions is the moment you turned your back on God! Let me go! Get off of me, you pointy earred, horta fuc-”

 

Spock chuckles and tilts his head towards the Deltan being dragged between four soldiers. “ My, my, You’re a lively one, aren’t you. Sasek, you do such a good job choosing them.”

 

“ Thank you, your Highness.” Sasek says nonplussed. The Deltan strains his head over in the direction of Spock’s, trying fruitlessly to use his telepathy to slay or maim him. The relonium helm covering the bulk of his head hampers the transmission of his energy out from his body, recirculating it in a fervid loop.

 

All the captives have tried to free themselves or kill him but this poor block is having a raw run of it as he grunts and shrieks with effort against the helm’s mouthpiece.

 

Spock sucks at his teeth and sighs through his nose at the sight. He would almost feel sorry for him if his people weren’t keeping him his own life. They all have things that had to answer to. For this hapless Deltan, his sense of fidelity has cost him his life and for Spock, his position within the royal family kept him here, away from Nyota and under the command of his brother.

 

But with the second awakening of his mind, all of that was soon to change.

 

Spock comes to his feet and slowly closes the distance between, in a lazy and felid stride. Eyeing the alien general, Spock scratches at the stubble along his chin and runs his tongue along his canines. “ Sorry about this.”

 

The Deltan pauses in his efforts and growls in his direction. “ For what, Vulcan scum!?”

 

Spock gives a toothy grin and bites slightly at his lip. “ That you are in my way.”

Chapter Text

It’s been nearly two Vulcan months and she’s still to receive word from Spock and how he fares. As Nyota sits, faithfully at the comm, she diligently moves her long fingers to pen yet another letter she hopes her Prince will receive.

 

She knows everything she scribbles onto the screen will be read twice over and whatever she sends will be combed four times over, but there is a hope yet that her Vulcan Prince will read between the lines.

 

“ All is well here at the palace. My studies progress daily.” I am alone here and I have nothing but my books to comfort me.

 

“ Your garden looks resplendent and is filled with flowers.” I’ve been sulking in the K’ai trees, waiting on you to return and take me as you last did on your bed.

 

“ Sybok has been most attentive to realm and my welfare and all my needs are met.” Sybok will not leave me be! He haunts me and the Empire with his insistent need for control.

 

“ I hope you are faring well and that your battles have been soundly fought.” Love you in spite of myself. Miss you because of it. Do not die away from me and leave me as I am.

 

Nyota rereads it for the third time and sends it off with hopes that this note will at least make it to him. She’s being too hopeful in thinking that a Vulcan, of all peoples, would be able to read between the lines but subterfuge is all they have at this point. All her letters leave; none come back and none are answered.

 

She worries her lip as stares at the inbox displayed there on the screen. It’s nothing but gossiping notes from her host sisters and past admirers. All their letters paint themselves as cheery chums that wish her nothing but the best, but Nyota knows when she’s being pumped. Whether wealth, information or fame, it doesn’t matter. Here on Vulcan she’s the jewel of Terra but back on Earth she’s the golden goose whose eggs have yet to be collected.

 

They ask after her welfare, if there’s any news she wishes to share and about the current state of affairs. Pssh, as if she knew any better than they did. All she’s heard has been through the maids, most of which is secondhand from the other staff in the palace. They speak of Spock’s return to carnage. The coldness of his savagery going beyond that of any Mindlord preceding him. Nyota knew him to be cruel but it just had to be gussied up rubbish.

 

How was she to believe that Spock was turning the Deltans into zombie-like minions under the power of a single meld? And what was this about Spock randomly killing his own? It’s said he’s either weeding out his command council or playing a mad game only he understands.

 

Surely she wasn’t suppose to believe the growing number of tales whispered between her handmaids. But then again, how much does the palace herald knowing edit out of his reports to the court? Are the reports of the war actually true? Is Spock still fighting the Deltans or was he actually dea-

 

“ Nyota.”

 

Nyota startles and turns on her pedestal. There, not even five feet away from where she sits, stands the Emperor. Her mouth moves automatically to greet him when she falters. Word hang heavy in her mouth, drawing it down to express her confusion. Sybok?

 

At least she was sure of it, until she caught sight of him. Sybok is not as she remembers him. Heat creeps over Nyota’s face and her mouth hangs awkwardly agape. “ Y..your Grace?”

 

His beard...it’s gone. The skin beneath is slightly paler than the rest of his face but already there’s a hint of the velvet stubble trying to grow back into its former silky glory. His clothes are as rich and decorated as they typically are but his strikingly ethereal steals her gaze away from the decorous robes. In hues of bronzes, soft gold and a buttery cream, the light glinting off the fabric highlights his cheeks and jawline in a way that points out the features that had been hidden beneath his beard.

 

He is the last person she wants to see but at this moment, Nyota can’t draw her eyes away from him. Her mouth sputters to say more, to recover from her silence but words are lost on her. Instead she coughs and works on clearing the hot lump in her throat.

 

Sybok makes a very unVulcan gesture of biting and sucking at his bottom lip while watching her puzzle over his appearance. “ Look that foul, do I?”

 

Nyota shakes her head pensively and quickly taps the comm screen into hibernation. “ No, not at all sire. I was simply unprepared for the sight. I nearly took you for someone else...”

 

Spock; she nearly took him for Spock. Having his beard trimmed back is one thing that caught her off guard. How much Sybok now resembles his brother, bothers her. She turned, knowing full well the owner of the voice, but was met with the odd presence of a older looking version of her bondmate.

 

The sight of freshed-faced royal discomforts her on many levels. At first sight she thought of Spock and his presence surprised, aroused and gladdened her. When she came to see that he was too tall, too sharp in his features to be her fiance. Disappointment and guilt descends upon her and settles in a lump on her throat. Was he ever coming back?

 

Sybok tilts his head to the side and blinks at her fondly. “ Your face is flush. Why?”

 

She bows her head towards her shoulder to avoid looking at him head on but he closes the space between them and stands beside of her console. “I prefer you with a beard.”

 

Sybok studies her thoughtfully before turning his attention to the comm system. He taps the screen with his fingers and deftly moves his fingers to retrieve the last known actions. “ Penning letters, Ms.Uhura? Quite a few to my brother I see. Ah and to your host sisters as well.”

 

“ I miss them all, your Grace.” she answers truthfully, listening silently as Sybok hums in response. He cants his head away from her and takes a slow breath in through his lips before responding.

 

“ If you are lonely for company, you are permitted to have guests on the palace grounds.” he offers, looking off towards the door. Nyota balks involuntarily at the gesture but quickly recovers with a small but wary smile. “ Your Grace is too kind.”

 

“ I am merely reiterating your privileges. You are no ordinary human, being bonded to a Prince, and as such, you are afforded certain luxuries. You would be remiss not to exercise them.”

 

Nyota smiles again, this time with a bit more spirit and a strong wave of something she cannot define comes over her skin with a prickling chill. She moves her eyes to his face and pales a bit. His mouth remains vigilant in maintaining it’s flat stance but his eyes smile brightly as Nyota meets them with her own. That strange sensation between them surges again and Nyota immediately tucks herself away in her mind like a frightened mouse.

 

Chanting her mantra over her thoughts, Nyota reviews her disquiet. Everything about Sybok feels off. He is too kind and willingly to attend her as of late and never hints as to motivation. At first she thought he meant to torture her ( which she still remains convinced of) but that does not seem to be the primary reason driving his actions. How would that explain account for his fond use of bond sister or his help in her scholarly pursuits?

 

All this and more he has done and now he seeks to get her to call upon Nyota finds herself wary to take him up on his suggestion of bringing any others here.

 

Look at what she had gone through and she was the second most favored human in all the palace. What would happen to Chapel or Rand if she were to host them here? Off Terra and away from their host mother? The bad would far outweigh the good, she’s sure. “ Perhaps but I know my sisters to be busy.”

 

Sybok tilts his head back and sighs through his nose in a Vulcan show of impatience and gives a momentary smirk. “ Then you’ll attend me.”

 

Nyota leans back in visible offense at the proposal and shakes her head. “ I would make sour company, Sire. I’m sure there are those who are not pining for their bondmates that would make far better companions.”

 

“ It is for that very reason that I seek out your company in particular.” he shoots back. Extending two fingers out towards her, Sybok stares at her with an unnerving intensity. “ Attend me.”

 

Nyota glances from his brooding eyes to his long, bejeweled fingers and thought of how she could possibly refuse.

 

Sybok’s eyes darken and narrow. “ Do not refuse me. You cannot. Attend. Me.”

 

Nyota swallows as the ruffian skimmed her mind and presses her to accept. She isn’t in the mood or condition to fight off his advances. Surak knows what the lout would do if she were to say no.

 

She extends her hand with a long sigh and gasps as he takes her hand within his own. He moves her fingers to his liking and glares at her with a quirked brow that reads, just like this don’t move . Nyota scowls back at him as he stares her down and juts out her fingers to spitefully obey him.

 

A tiny smirk crosses his lips as he joins their fingers together and grows wider as she internal recoils at the sensation the touch creates. It’s an illicit sort of thrill, a tickling of nerves that makes her think of his lips brushing against her shoulder.

 

Nyota glares at him and jerks her hand away. “ Don’t.”

 

Sybok continues smiling at her, retrieving her hand and butting their fingers back together. “ Ordering me about again? Snide, little human. What if I continue? What then, harlot queen?”

 

Heat burns at her hand from where their fingers touch, growing more and more uncomfortable to bear. His eyes glitter down at hers but not from the mirth that she felt from him earlier. Fickle male.

 

In her months of knowing him, the elder brother had exhibited strange turns to his mood. What once was sweet know turns cool as Nyota’s protest piques his temper.

 

Nyota’s face pales as the Emperor’s playful overtures turn more dark in nature. She has been too forward in protecting her modesty and irked him but what she felt from the finger embrace was more than she ever wanted to feel from him. It was the same sort of admiration Spock possessed over her beauty and character but free of his undying affection. It was not a good feeling; it makes her feel as if she’s no more than a toy or plaything, which for Sybok, is spot on.

 

Sybok watches as she mentally backpedals away from ordering him about and runs his tongue across his teeth, waiting on her next move. When she glances up at him once more she’s again taken aback by his resemblance to Spock.

 

In a way, it heralds to a future of what Spock could be or could have been had he not trapped her as he had. Slowly, her company had been wearing away at the hardness she sees in Sybok. Before he left, Spock had made regular use of his manners and words, being slow to anger for those who did not merit it. Much to his brother’s chagrin, Spock had been evolving into a move civil creature.

 

But if the new Crown Prince were left to fight for months and years to come with the type of reports that she’s heard in the court, then who knows who will return to her. She has worried over him returning at all but now seeing his brother as cold as he is, Nyota is dismayed by the prospect of Spock coming back as heartless and cruel as Sybok.

 

What parts of him she has touched in the months before, may be gone to her forever if Spock is left to linger in the violence of war. Outside her thoughts, Nyota feels Sybok impatiently tugging at her fingers and sighing over her assessment. “You don’t know the half of me, Nyota Uhura.”

 

She blinks away from the bare sight of his jaw line and up towards his eyes. “I would never say that I did, my Lord.”

 

Sybok tilts his head to the side and slowly runs his fingers down until he reaches her palm. The sensation is as pleasant as it is grating. “ Perhaps aloud but you’ve said it in other fashions. It’s a statement, however, that with time and care, you could amend, Ms.Uhura.”

 

Nyota’s mouth quirks at Sybok’s growing use of her maiden name. She knows he means to employ it as a means of respect but there’s also the unspoken query as to why he does not call her Spock’s. She bites her lips and twists her wrist to return his fingers back towards hers and away from her palm with a polite nod. “The more I know, the less I am certain of, your Grace.”

 

One of Sybok’s eyebrow makes a lazy ascent up at her words while he wraps his fingers about her own. “Wise and feisty. A dangerous but inviting prospect for a human.”

 

Nyota makes a dismissive motion with her shoulders and comes up off of her chair. She’d rather not have the conversation loiter over what could be perilous for her. “Let us take our leave, Your Grace.”

Sybok gives her a small but easy smile and nods in approval.

 

“Let’s.” he agrees, wrapping his free arm around her waist. It is a forward move even for a royal Vulcan but Nyota knows now not to argue against it. Sybok’ll simply do as he pleases but she can control her reaction. He wanted to get a raise out of her, whether it is lust or righteous indignation, he doesn’t care but her indifference would keep her safe. For now.

 

He leds her out of her chambers and into the main palace corridor, escorting her no differently than Spock would if he were there to attend her. Their small procession draws the eyes of every being present, of noble and commoner alike.

 

She has little doubt that they wonder what the pair of them are up to. She is dressed as she always is, in thin robes of Vulcan silk that most native would liken to sleepwear in its light weight but Sybok is notably casual in his garb.

 

Before they left her chamber he called for his valet and stripped himself free of his most elaborate wear. When he finished only his tunic and slacks remain. At his butler’s insistence, Sybok slides his outer robe back over his shoulders and retains the rings of his family crest and royal sigil.

 

In a catalog of bronze shades, the Emperor is free of his usual royal trappings. Even his boots are utilitarian in nature, as they trade out their typical shine and buckles for treaded bottoms and steel toes.

 

Nobles that are near enough comment on how fetching the two of them look together and Sybok preens happily at the attention. Nyota neither dissuades or encourages their banter, stuck as she is with Sybok and not Spock. For those who know her, her silence is probably just as telling as her words could be.

 

As if picking up on her ploy, Sybok moves them more hurriedly through the castle grounds until they reach the gate facing Mt. Seleya. Upon his approach the guard rush to prepare the doors and open them after releasing the last set of locks.

 

Nyota winces at the light of Vulcan’s two stars hits her eyes in a blazing white reflected off of the sands. Its midday and the ghostly-looking suns are at their peak in the coral red sky above them. Whenever she would visit Spock in his gardens, the suns were just rising or setting for the day. The heat of them is just as taxing as their absurd gravity on her shoulders but their light is at the forefront of Nyota’s aggravations. She can’t see anything beyond her nose the light is so bright.

 

Sybok looks down at her cowering form with waxy film of his inner eyelid neatly drawn over his eyes. He sniffs in derision and extends his hands out towards the waitstaff, expectantly. His hand is quickly filled by a handmaid with a pair of spectacles that he places gently onto her face and over her eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to go blind now, would we?”

 

Nyota blinks warily at the new change in color and surveys the land just beyond the palace gates. The glasses paint the rocky, red landscape lavender and the attendants around them violet.

 

As she spins around to view the landscape, a livery worker approaches them with two stallion jarels with saddles on leads. He comes to a stand in front of Sybok and bows before them with the leads outstretched towards him.

 

With no words to warn her, Sybok plucks Nyota up off of her feet and deposits her onto the closest horned horse. His hands wander across her rear much more than they should, testing and palming its firmness. Nyota shoos his hand away with an angry huff but she finds her irritation at Sybok to be distressing for her mount. The large, unicorn-like creature bugles and bucks at his reins, nearly unseating her from its tassel-lined saddle.

 

The livery quickly retrieves its lead and soothes it with a firm pat against the blaze at its nose. Sybok rolls his eyes at the scene, even as he is the one to cause it and makes short work of mounting on his own steed. The jarels are similarly coated, both brindled and fair but Sybok’s is notably larger, probably to accommodate his heavier weight.

 

Scratching at the jarel’s forelock, he speaks to the stableman as he continues to eye Nyota. “If they aren’t already, I want these beasts weighted down with provisions for my human bond-sister. Our world worries beings such as herself, not being blessed with our constitution.”

 

“Your mounts are equipped and ready, Your Majesty.”

 

Sybok nods in approval and places his hand further down along his mount’s face. The jarel stills beneath his hand, focusing solely on its master’s command. His counterpart turns his head and bumps its nose eagerly into Nyota’s palm for instruction and snorts at her silence.

 

Nyota pats it gently on the nose and looks to the livery worker for assurance. The male begins to answer when Sybok leads his steed between the two of them and orders her on what to do. “ Psi null as you are you can still pick up any connection your mount may initiate. There will be no words, possibly pictures but to tell your mare what to do, feel it.”

 

Nyota shakes her head and sighs in confusion. “ Whatever do you mean feel it?”

 

“ You’re a quick study. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Sybok says with smiling eyes. Before she can question him further, Sybok’s jarel rears up and takes off with a sizable leap forward.

 

“ Wait!” Nyota calls, pressing her hand to the nose of her jarel. He’s going to lead her outside to just melt away in the sun? She grits her teeth and runs her hand up towards the mare’s forehead when she feels her hands catch. The psi energy.

 

It’s different with the jarel from the sehlats and even more startling when compared to the Vulcans but its familiar enough that Nyota tries her hand in communicating with her mount.

 

She closes her eyes and pictures the landscape before her. She feels the jarel’s attention turn and focus onto her mind as she visualizes them chasing after Sybok through the dunes. It seems interested in the prospect but makes no moves to follow the pair out.

 

Nyota sighs tightens her hands that’s on the rein and leans forward, hoping the beast will respond like a horse. “ C’mon girl. Let’s go.” she says sweetly. She follows it with kissy noise and an encouraging push of her heels. Her jarel’s ears swivel curiously at the noise but her feet remain still and beneath them.

 

Nyota groans and drops her head along its thick black mane. She’s hot and tired and scared of what she may be getting into but the sooner she does it, the sooner she can return to her chambers to bathe and nap.

 

“ C’mon, let’s go? What do you need to feel from me to go?!” Nyota mumbles bitterly. Nuzzling closer, Nyota imagines them once more, galloping behind Sybok, with the wind cutting through their hair and the ground flying by as they sped towards the mountain. At the moment she recalls her own body running around the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro, her steed leaps forward with a trumpet and eats at the distance between them and the mountain.

 

Nyota hoots in victory, successfully taking charge of the situation and shouts out her pleasure. “ Yes! Run! Beat them to the mountain!”

 

Her jarel’s wide chest bellows rapidly under her legs as it feeds off of her excitement. In what feels like no time at all her mount has caught up to Sybok’s and is passing it for the goal of the mountain.  Sybok turns in time to see them fly past them and taps his steed to follow hers.

 

“ Do you know where we’re going Ms. Uhura?” he yells over the sound of the wind in their ears.

 

Nyota shakes her head and keeps her eyes on Mt.Seleya. “ No, Your Grace, I don’t know where we’re going but I know where I’m going.”

 

Nyota’s laughter tickles Sybok’s ears as she pulls away and leads into what he later describes as a wild, Bolian chase.

 

Together the two of them chased each other across the low dunes just outside the palace’s borders until Sybok started to herd Nyota over towards a small outcropping of jagged rocks.

He calls her over to it and dismounts in one smooth stride. “ Here. We’re almost there.”

 

“ Almost where, Your Grace?” she asks scrambling as best she can off her jarel. It follows her other to Sybok and its herdmate and the three of them watch as Sybok orders the two beast to stay nearby should he need them with a touch of his hand.

 

Backing off to graze, the pair wander slowly away, looking to see what they can find among the boulders. When Nyota turns her head back towards the Emperor, she finds Sybok watching her with his posture tense with energy. “ I can’t wait to show you, Nyota. Somehow, I know you’ll love this.”

 

“ I trust your judgement.” she replies, halfheartedly.

 

Sybok scoffs as he looks between the rocks. “ There you go lying to me again. Hold your tongue, little sister and be a good sport. I have a treat for you.”

 

At the mention of a treat, Nyota’s mind summons the memory of Spock giving her the Vokaya and his pledge to her afterwards. The loss of his presence aches in her chest but there is little she can do to relieve it. Nonetheless, her small hand goes to rubbing at her sternum as she watches Sybok moves himself between rocks.

 

He spies her worrying her hand over her robe but says nothing of it. Perhaps he knows why she does so and doesn’t care to speak of his brother. He sticks to his task of going over the cliff face.

 

After a few minutes a happy sounding hum leaves his mouth and he calls her closer. “ Come, Nyota.

 

In an amazing show of strength, the royal heaves a jagged boulder to side, revealing a narrow tunnel. “ Follow me.”

 

Nyota swallows with a nod and does as he bids. A few steps in she stumbles and curses herself for not removing her glasses. She does so now, slipping them into the pocket of her sleeve. The passageway gives her a growing sense of anxiety as it wavers between being wide enough to walk beside Sybok and so small that she has to turn herself sideways to walk through. The only light she has to go on is the tiny stripes filtering through the rocks above them. The further the go, however, the darker it becomes. “ Where are we going?”

 

Sybok seems carefree as usually, slinking between the wedged rocks and gliding through the spacious areas. “ My secret place.”

 

Nyota sighs dejectedly as she gets no closer to a clearer answer. The temperature that was initially cool when they entered away from the sun has steadily increased in heat and humidity. Her robes now cling to her frame and stick along her limbs as Nyota continues to stumble along behind the mercurial king. Just when she thinks to beg him for a break, Nyota runs into the long expanse of his back after he makes a sudden stop.

 

She immediately steps back and looks around to see why they’ve stopped. It seemed brighter up ahead but not from direct sunlight and the air around them seems to be breezing towards that direction. Peering around his side, she gasps in awe. “ What….what is this?”

 

She steps out in front of him and wandering into the gaping cavern before them. What stands twice the size of the throne room and three times as wide, lies a giant cave of white crystals.

 

Sunlight shine down into a few of the crystals above from some unknown hole, lighting the cave enough to navigate their way around. Few rusty pickaxes and hammers are stuck between the struts of crystals above, looking so old and brittle that they may break if she were to breath on them. “ It’s amazing…”

 

“ It’s an ancient abandoned mine. Nothing but gypsum crystals and quartz but some of the largest that I’ve found intact. There’s more elsewhere but it’s too hot even for me to explore for more than a few minutes. Go on…look around.”

 

Nyota takes the invitation glad and slowly circles the cave as best she can. Nearly every surface is encrusted with the growing minerals and jut out at odd angles. Some are small as grains of sand while others shoot out from the ceiling big as shuttlecrafts.

 

Sybok helps her along the way, explaining the composition and the formation of the cave itself. He picks up fracture pieces as they go along and deposits them into her hand. “ A gift, however small.”

 

Nyota excitedly pokes her finger over the pieces. The crystals aren’t pure white but rather varying tints. Some have hints of color, most likely from the minerals in the surrounding rocks but each piece is beautiful in her eyes. Nyota plops them into her sleeve pocket along with her glasses and grins up at Sybok. “ How did you ever find such a place, Sybok?”

 

He smiles at her use of his name but answers her instead of teasing. He guides her towards what appears to be another tunnel and licks his lips. “ My bondmate and I found it during our studies as children.”

 

Nyota whirls on her heels to gaze at him in open mouth shock. “ Your...your bondmate? You-”

 

“ T’Vas. She is lost to me now but I have her still in my mind.” he cuts her off. His expression is unreadable as he walks alongside her. “ We were going over our history lessons, when she came across a passage portioning to this mine. It was largely abandoned because of its mineral content…, the Empress at the time was looking for more latium and dilithium for her fleet, but records of its discovery were still tucked away in the palace’s library.”

 

“ So you two went to find it then?”

 

Syboks nods and runs his hands over the walls as he continues. “ I sought it out on my own as a gift to her. There was no map to speak of, merely coordinates and a rough description.”

 

A small smile creeps over his lips as he recounts it further. “ I was ever so excited to show her. She liked pretty things, tinkering with objects to see how they worked and I wanted to surprise her. I’ve shown and told no one else.”

 

Nyota looks up at his face and notes his faraway gaze. It hits her then why with her missing Spock why Sybok wanted her company. Sybok was pining as well. “ Truly? No one else?”

 

“No one but my bondmate has been here before aside from the ancients. We enjoyed the solitude.” he murmurs.

 

Nyota steps out from the tunnel into the dim glow of the cavern, paying careful attention to where she places her feet. “ Not even Spock?”

 

Sybok sighs out of his noses as he follows her in and fingers the thick veins of minerals webbing against the wall. “ No. Not even him, though he knows of it. We both had our secrets, whether places or people and this place was mine. And at one time, it was hers too.”

 

He comes to a stop and closes his eyes for a moment, longing written into the lines of his face.

 

Nyota’s eyes flit over to where Sybok leans heavily against the wall and bites at her lip. It’s hard to know what any of this, like taking her here, is suppose to mean. Is he simply sharing his nostalgia or is he trying to create new memories with her?

 

Sybok opens his eyes again and new expression hits his face. Her hand tightens against robes as his eyes find hers. He pushes off of the rock and walks over to where she stands. The sudden change has her stepping away. “ Sybok…?”

 

“Come here. Be still.” he orders, with his footsteps echoing across the chamber.

 

Nyota slowly backs away until she’s met with the rock behind her. She looks about her and sees nothing beyond the dim light of the cave behind them. She turns back to face his advancing form and feels her breath steal away from her. “ Please, your Grace. No.”

 

“ Sybok.” he says quietly. “ Address me by my name.”

 

His feets come to a quiet halt, toe to toe with her own. He sidesteps to bring himself closer and she can feel the heat of his skin brushing over her. Nyota opens her mouth to beg once more when he takes her by the waist and deposits her on a small sill on the rock face of the wall beside them. “ Be still. I have something for you.”

 

She shakes her head ardently but he saddles up between the space of her legs until they face to face. The scent of smoke is light on his breath but the heat of it is hot like an oven.

 

Nyota swallows tearfully and pushes hard at his chest. He’s too close, too unpredictable to manage this close to her person. She feels the outline of his body as he leans against her and she quails in fear. “ Sybok. If ever you had any mercy to-”

 

His mouth closes over hers, swallowing the rest of her words as his hands comes up to cup her cheek. His raspy tongue is in her mouth before she can think to close it and curling itself around her own. He teases the orifice wider and turns his tongue gently in her mouth, drawing her attention away from the light dig of his fingers on her the side of her face.

 

He spreads them a moment later and all too late does Nyota see the act for what it is. A mind meld, one that’s sure to be a engulfing from the concentration she feels from his nerves. She tries pulling away to make a physical point to stop when Sybok mentally engages her.

 

Nyota’s breath hitches in her throat while her eyes roll back with fluttering lids. She’s losing herself, spiraling inwards with Sybok close behind. She’s physically aware of the rocky cavern but not much else. The jagged lip of rock she’s seated upon refuses to be ignored as it digs into the flesh of her rear. Sybok’s breath blowing hotly across her wet lips, has her arching and recoiling but something about the moment feels like deja vu.

 

She hasn’t done this before and yet her hands know exactly how to touch along his neck to make him shiver beneath her fingers. Her hands fist his hair of their own volition and draw him closer to her face. She kisses him back and it feels as if she’s done it a million times before, arching her chest up against his from a desire to have him closer.

 

He gasps in her mouth and purrs at the touch of her fingers along his temple. A magnetic pull tugs at her hand and brings Sybok closer still with a tightening of the meld. And there, a strange familiarity of his mind comes over her. Each contour and crevice and the memories that lie therein are like pages from a favorite book. It’s as if she knows him but how?

 

What is this? Whose knowledge of Sybok’s moves her hand so audaciously? Surely not her own. Her body begins to tremble as she fights to gain control over herself and shake the feeling of someone’s...skin.

 

These weren’t her feelings, her will to act on. Sure she freely admits to Sybok’s handsomeness but under the thrall of the meld she found him nearly irresistible. She kissed him as she had with Spock and the memory of it burns her with guilt. She hadn’t wanted to and yet she felt the hunger for his mouth on hers. She yearned to have him closer, needed it. It was an ache she only remembers having once before when Spock....! “ What did you do to my mind?”

 

Sybok bends down and seals their lips again, wrapping his other arm around her to bring her closer. “Do not overthink the matter. You know what you know.”

 

She blinks slowly under the weight of his mind and wills her mouth to work. “ Why are you sharing this with me?”

 

“I want someone to know me. No one knows me anymore.”

 

“Spock knows you.” she offers, trying again to push him away. She only succeeds in slumping against him. What in Vulcan was happening to her?! Her mind was turning against her and pulling him nearer. She would blame him but the thrum of his psionic energy has ceased to fill her. His hand was merely cupping her cheek.

 

“Not as she once did and you do now.” he replies quietly, thumbing at her chin.

 

She? Spock is clearer a he? Who is he talking about? If not herself then the bondmate? “ Sybok are you talking about-”

 

“As a young child, I felt the pressure of my station more keenly than I do now, even as the Emperor. I had to earn what was already mine to inherit, my crown, the respect of the quadrants, my father’s affection...none of it came freely and I worked hard to get it on my own.”

 

He pauses then to exhale quietly through his nose and close his eyes in his reminiscing. “I was only ever happy here. Free to be , here. For all my love of power and flesh, the aggravation of possessing and maintaining them wears on one’s ka’tra. I longed for happiness. Still do.”

 

Nyota shifts back against the wall as the hand on his face repositions itself. “ Your Majesty?”

 

“ You’ve never been happy.” he says finally, tapping his pointer finger along her cheekbone. “You didn’t think to take my earlier proposal of happiness during my coronation feast because you do not know its value.”

 

Squirms as she thinks he means to take her quim but soon freezes in wonder. Euphoria, cool, bright snags her from Sybok’s hand. And just as he told Spock before at his coronation, Sybok traces her alien nerves with a confidence that belies his experience with humans. This time between them though is new.

 

Sybok has nevered shared his mind in such a fashion with an alien and the act is more passionate than expected. Nyota closes her eyes and shivers against him as the breathtaking sensation of his Vulcan elation. Not the orgasm that he forced on her when first they met or the painful pleasure he raked her with during his crowning but a joy so pure it steals her.

 

He holds her tightly and pulses the feeling over her, marveling over her revelation of it and kisses her softly. She feels paralyzed, pushed beyond the limits of her nerves comprehension into a numbness that has her floating within.

 

She’s vaguely aware of the tears wetting her cheeks and the smile that hurts them from its wideness but her uncontrollable laughter fills the cave. A dizzying wave combs over her, followed by another, until she can no longer keep herself conscious.

 

She wakes later to find herself in her bed, alone and in new clothing. He must have taken her back home after she collapsed. Idly she wonders if the whole venture was a dream. With no crystals or glasses to verify the trip, the memory of the cave could perhaps be written off as a fevered dream.

 

Sleep has been poor since Spock left and her mind has been filled with wild nonsense. A soft touch of her face proves to her otherwise as she winces from its soreness. So it was real then, the cave, the crystals, the meld...their kiss.

 

Guilt chases her along with a flush of heat as she recalls how thorough said kiss was. In that meld he had done something to her, given her memories and visions that weren’t her own but of course the brute hadn’t said whose they were. She guesses T’Vas to be the most likely but who’s to say they aren’t a mental collection of all his lovers?

 

She hadn’t kissed anyone like that except her own bondmate.Spock. What would he think if he knew? Would he jealous or would he feel betrayed? She remembers the growing softness he was exercising and thinks perhaps he would just pity her. How was she to overcome a mindlord?

 

She knew Vulcan emotions were overwhelming but she thought for a moment she might go mad from it.

 

Nyota sits up and rolls out of bed over towards her comm. She quickly powers it on and opens her inbox. Nothing.

 

She sighs into the quiet of her room and holds a hand to her churning belly. If Spock didn’t come back soon she didn’t know what would happen. T’Pring had stopped her visits out of fear of Sybok finding out and there was nowhere else to turn.

 

Nyota had to find a way to free herself from Sybok’s clutches or else she might fall prey to them by wishing to be there.

Chapter Text

Portrolling Delta Vega

 

Spock blinks over his cards slowly and flares his nostrils with a loud sigh. Weeks, 9 fucking weeks he had been laying waste to this Surak-forsaken quadrant and what had it earned him? Certainly not his way back home or the loyalty of this trash.

 

That’s what they are, garbage, he thinks sourly, eyeing the bottles of Detlan cognac they have stacked in the center of the table caging the pot prize. Around the table soldiers in arms try their hand at this game of Bolian luck.

 

He hates them all, almost as much as the Deltans. It’s through no fault of their own though. It’s just with each hour he has to pass staring at their ugly mugs he is reminded that he is out here and not there , with her .

 

Nyota...has she forsaken him? He worries about what little he hears back from the palace. Most of it is orders and trifling ones at that. Hold this planet, raze this other one, pillage the other. Fucking maddening. As if this was his first stellar system raid. He knew how to terrorize a quadrant, hell, he had spent his whole life training for it.

 

Why no word from her? Is it just a part of Sybok’s game to claw at him? Or has she come to enjoy his absence? Had his last time not been gentle enough for her and she grew to scorn him? Did she...did she not care...did she not love him?

 

Slowly he feels his fingers close over the cards until they begin to crumple under the strain. Did she not love him? Did she? Spock grinds his teeth and ponders the thought. If Nyota had forgotten him, he is more than inclined to force her to remember...grab her by the hair and the hip and take her to the stables and-

 

A sour churning of his stomach snap Spock out of his demented plotting and burn his face. What was happening to him? Was he truly doubting his bondmate’s adore for him? And had he actually thought to rape her in fear of it? How...what...had she done to earn it…? Nothing. He was jumping to conclusions and acting like his brother.

 

No, not like Sybok...like yourself before Nyota, a voice accuses in his mind. He agrees to the crime of it but argues the details therein. Yes, his reaction resembled his typical regard of others before bonding with Nyota but something about it feels much worse.

 

Before Nyota he wasn’t truly privy of his fallacies, thought his transgressions were more of a royal privilege than a terrible misdeed. Just now however he was planning, knowingly, of raping her despite her love and his promise to his father.

 

The notion had come so easily, been visualized so clearly, that the ease of it frightens him. Spock rakes his fingers through his hair and tries unsuccessfully to shake the guilt and the thought of her screaming in pleasure and fright beneath him. He could not stand the thought of making his heart, his soul hurt that way. How could relish the thought of her tear-stricken face pleading for mercy as he took her over the selhat breeding rack for offenses, imagined or otherwise? He swallows hard at the bile threatening to rise up out of his throat and rubs at his growing beard.

 

You’ve truly lost it now, haven’t you? Only this time it’s a problem.

 

Spock knew himself to be mad and monstrous but he now fears, he's grown worse. It’s one thing to be capable of such horror but another not the be control of it. He was losing his grip on his urges again but this time they were gaining a grip over him.

 

Spock knows what the royals do to those who cannot contain themselves. It’s no different than what one would do with a rabid selhat.

 

Vaguely he notices that the others at the table are staring at him and gathers that it’s his turn. Spock sniffs and studies his cards, fanning this out behind his dirty hands. His nails are caked with dried blood, some of it his own but most of it someone(s) else’s. He can’t be bothered to clean underneath them. More will soon take its place.

 

And for that matter, why shave if he doesn’t need to care about how scratchy Nyota finds his stubble. Why bathe so often if he is going to sully himself again in the next battle, of which, they are numerous?

 

For Sasek’s sake and to ward off disease, he does bathe every other couple of days or so, but he knows from experience that it would take a good while to rid oneself of this type of grime. “ Three tounooks and seven vereals.”

 

A few grunt at his play while others shuffle around their hands. Spock contents himself back to his lonesome musing to maintain his sanity and nature. It’s these louts, they can’t be trusted. The longer I stay in this war and surrounding by these filthy tongue-waggers, the stronger the beast inside of me grows, he swallows roughly, looking down at his newly dealt cards.

 

Spock likes to think it’s not entirely his fault he’s a bastard. Brother and father aside, their have been many more that have sought to end whatever power he may hold over them, without Sybok’s backing.

 

Hmm that doesn’t make you a bastard, just a mean one , he counters idly.

 

True, he digresses, shuffling through his hand. Not all heartless cunts were cruel like he was. His growing awareness of how naturally it comes to him, now nags at his side. In all his plundering pursuits of Nyota, never once had he been mean-spirited about it...well, in a manner of speaking.

 

He was greedy for her, gluttonous in his consumption of quim but the thought that she was perhaps happy without him, had made him want to hurt her for pain’s sake for the first time. And it scares him.

 

Fear was a new and nearly pointless emotion. It makes him want to avoid things, run from consequences and actions but he for his bondmate’s sake he needs to run towards it and purge the distasteful thought. Such uninhibited sprees of emotions is what had Sybok killing T’Vas. His older brother had stopped listening to the voices around him and paid too much credence to the voices within.

 

You mean like that of your own thoughts, Spock? What makes you so different? Shall you think yourself so pure and special that your moral compass lies above his own? Has the taint of your family’s inbreeding spared you from such frailty? Or am I just you speaking aloud in your mind then?

 

It’s me, it’s me without proper sleep or supplies and rations. Cruel and apathetic I may be but insane I am not, he argues back, playing another hand.

 

Spock rubs absently at his shoulder from where his brother had bit him as a child and subsequently attacked his mind. He had been mad with grief and vicious as a result. He believed that everyone was trying to undermine him, which from his own brief personal experience as Crown Prince, Spock could see his brother’s logic in it.

 

Three hundred lightyears between him and Vulcan hadn’t seen him with any assassination shortages. He handled them all splendidly ( and quite personally) but such rampant disloyalty towards him ( or maybe just fear-inspired loyalty towards his brother) had started to eat at his mind. Yes, there were traitors here among him on this ship and back on Vulcan. Nyota, however, wasn’t one of them, just as much as T’Vas wasn’t a traitor to her own beloved.

 

Nyota was different, he was different and Spock just had to hold onto who they were until he could slaughter his brother and fuck Nyota until she could no longer remember the scoundrel ever existed.

 

Or woo her. Humans very much favor romance, you dumb twat. Too busy trying to please yourself rather than please her that you can’t see her heart for her cunt. You’ve forgotten you have power beyond your cock and your mind. If you keep up this line of thinking you’ll be just like-

 

“ Quiet.” he growls down at his cards. The rowdy conversation going on around him is quickly silenced as the players take note of his frightful mood.

 

Spock swallows again, not ready to leave the physical company of others and motions for Sasek. “ My pardon, all. I am without good sleep or cunny and it wears on me. Sasek, please fetch the cask of Orion spiced wine beside my dresser for all of us to drink.”

 

At the mention of proffered alcohol, the table resumes it’s noisy din with cheers or praise and thanks. Spock seemingly ignores them all, with his eyes on his cards. There are some that are more jubilant than others, a few that beg off for the head ( ship’s bathroom) or to refill the bowl of rations they share between themselves.

 

Spock takes a deep breath and lets the corners of his mouth curl as he sighs.

 

Found you. I wonder whose pocket you’re in?

 

Sasek return shortly after the next few hands and begins to serve the table. The gaiety is palpable as he lifts his glass up as an invitation for a Terran style toast. A hush falls over the table and the soldiers hold the cups in quiet gratitude.

 

Spock blinks languidly and allows his mouth to tip further, affecting his expression with a lopsided smile. “ Dear Vulcan comrades. Patriots. Brethren. Let me honor you with - Lieutenant Kofal, do wait until the end of the toast before trying to drink.”

 

The female in question stops her cup midway from her mouth and places it down on the table. “ My pardon, Your Grace.”

 

Spock chuckles and swivels the cup with the motion of his wrist. “ Your Grace is my brother. Your highness will do just fine, Lieutenant.”

 

“ Yes, of course, Your Highness.” she agrees with a deep bow of her head.

 

Spock smiles back at her with his eyes and returns to reciting his toast. “ As I was saying, allow this servant of the crown to honor you with this wine and toast to your fortune, as you’ve honored our homeworld with your dedicated services. To the Empire.”

 

He lifts his glass and the others follow suit with a unified grunt of approval. They wait on him to take the first sip before quenching their own thirst when he stops the rim mid-tilt on his lips. Spock draws the cup away and eyes the male at his left. “ Ensign I’jaav, not thirsty?”

 

The male in question lifts his brows and gives a light shake of his head. “ No, Sire. I fear that I may have imbibed too much.”

 

Spock hums in understanding and brings his cup back to his lips. Again he makes as if to drink when he pauses and addresses the first electronics officer standing on the other side of the table. “ Officer H'chn, did you indulge too much as well?”

 

The older Vulcaness shakes her head, disturbing the salt and pepper bob cut neatly around her face. “ No, Your Highness. I simply have a bit of a headache.”

“ I see. Well, that puts that theory to rest.” Spock says, circling his finger around the rim.

 

Everyone has now grown nervous and waits for him to either explain himself or drink his wine. He lingers, however, moving his eyes over them with a cold hunger that’s familiar as it is comfortable.

 

Don’t get too comfortable. You may turn your hunger towards your beloved.

I would never harm her.

You already have you, limp-lok dolt. You are losing control.

I am Vulcan. I am passion and domination. I am in control.

For now…

 

“ Shut up!” he hisses between his teeth, further confusing those around him.

 

“ Your Highness?” Sasek asks in concern.

 

“ Lying. That was the theory.”

 

“ My pardon?” his cousin says in further bafflement.

 

Spock places his cup down and brings his hands together into they rest steepled in front of his face. “ Belief is a powerful weapon. It can bring on madness-” he pauses long enough to gesture at himself. “ - sway a court’s favor, inspire an army or kill a king.”

 

Silence follows after his words and Spock slowly exhales from his mouth. “ You see, I watched you lieutenant not take a single sip of alcohol all evening. Over imbibing...when I ask? And you, Officer H'chn, query.”

 

“ Yes, Sire.” the female answers in a hoarse whisper.

 

Spock leans forward and points to their chief medical officer and back at her head. “ Why with the technology to alleviate your pain and the C.M.O. standing right beside you do you stand here before me, supposedly suffering?”

 

The pair of them start to excuse away his observations with all the swiftness their mouths will lend them. “ Your Highness, pain relievers are in short supply. There’s no logic in cutting them short for a simple ache-” “ I did not clarify and state that I had been drinking yester-”

 

“ Drink.”

 

They both stop and stare as Spock peers down out his cup. When neither moves, Spock looks from the table with a ghastly expression of rage. “...drink your cups…!”

 

Slowly a number of them begin to comply but Spock holds up a hand to stop them. “ Not all of you, just these two.”

 

Everyone’s faces turn towards the nervous pair, visibly trembling at his order. Spock smiles and leans back slightly in his chair. “ Why the shaking? You shiver like my bondmate after we’ve coupled. Take a drink and calm your nerves.”

 

They go from his gaze to each other’s eyes and reluctantly sip at their drinks. Spock chuckles as they draw the liquid down and nods over his hands. “ That’s it. Brave soldiers deserve what’s coming to them. Especially those so loyal to our dear Emperor, Sybok. I will be sure to tell him of your steadfast performance. That is...if I could ever send out a single, solitary, Surak-damned missive from the ship’s comm units. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you, Officer H'chn?”

 

The officer in question, shakes where she stands, dripping with perspiration and bloodshot eyes. Vulcans didn’t sweat. So it was a dehydration poison then? He surmises as she pants aloud while clutching the table. Ensign I’jaav looks no better, gagging and foaming at the mouth as he was but he remains silent in his suffering. It’s the Officer who pleads with him. “ Sire, please…I could not go against the Emperor's wishes.”

 

In a flash Spock’s face becomes a facade of calm. His earlier rage and jovial countenance is wiped cleaned for a picture perfect mask of stoicism. “ Of course you couldn’t. I understand.”

 

He stands and slowly makes his way over to where she’s braced over the table, gasping at the air. Spock stands over her watches her in the throes of fighting the mummification she induced with drinking his spiced wine. She fumbles down onto the table when he rests his hands on her shaky shoulder. “ I am not without mercy, Officer. With me, everyone always has a choice. You can perish from wine or at the grip of my mind. I will be quick and gentle.”

 

“ Truly?” she rasps, blinking up at him from over her uniformed shoulder. Spock nods and tightens his fingers on her. “ Truly.”

 

She glances over towards Ensign I’jaav and sees the poor soul lying in a pool of vomit and sweat on the table. A small noise escapes his mouth but not much else. She closes her eyes and gives him a jerky nod. “ Please, Your Highness. Have mercy on this one.”

 

Spock is still for only a moment before slamming her down onto the table. H'chn yelps and quails as his fingers jam themselves against her face. Her screams follow immediately after, shrill and staccato. Spock looms over her with his face still blank of expression as she jerks beneath him. “ Did you believe that I would not have aided in protecting you if you were to tell me of your mission?”

 

“ Sire, the Emperor…! He said-”

 

“ He says a great many things, Officer, many of them true. For example, that you would have been punished if you haven’t succeeded in your task of keeping communication between me and my beloved at bay is most certainly true. Being rewarded for it, however,...that is left up to interpretation. Does this seem reward enough?”

 

He lances a particularly stinging blow within her mind and sends her keening into a whole other octave. “ Sire!”

 

“ How long have you barred me from her? How many letters did you keep from me?”

 

Below him the Electronic officer’s face turns from bright green to a ghastly-looking orange as she sputters out an answer between flecks of foam. “ 63, Your Highness...she wrote you everyday...I deleted each one however...I am... you...will not recover them…”

 

Spock’s eye flash with something that makes others standing around take a step back away from him. He carefully laces the fingers of his other hand across the small Vulcaness’s neck before sliding them under her jaw. “ That is...unfortunate.”

 

H'chn smiles from the loss of her control over her person and emotions. “ You will die trying to figure...out what I have done to the controls...on the comm. Aside from that I’ve programmed it...to delete every incoming missive from your human whore…”

 

Spock grinds his teeth but remains silent during her tirade.

 

“ You and your brother are a blight...on the royal...family line! I did not succeed but someone else will, bastard prince...you are a dead man standing…Spock...I am not the only one here who-”

 

“ Do you know how I found out about you, your treachery and the Ensign’s plot?”

 

The question silences H'chn for a moment before she goes defensive. “ We would never betray each other, we-”

 

“ Have little defense against me.” Spock counters. The hand he has at her temple goes to her hair and yanks her head to face the crowd. He lowers his mouth to her ear and smiles softly. “ I am capable of things you could not even imagine, acts that could bring the quadrants to their collective knees.”

 

“ A lot…of talk from a tainted ...Vulcan.”

 

Spock hums and juts his chin towards a yeoman standing just behind the table. “ It is a lot, isn’t it. Small talk and ranting, I never use to be one for it. I should get back into the practice of having my actions speak for me.”

Across the table Ensign I’jaav gurgles something unintelligible, prompting H'chn to try and turn her head in his direction. Spock yanks it back and positions her so she faces the yeoman.

 

H'chn growls and coughs up green as she tries and fails to shake her head. “ Yeoman Tovok has nothing to do it! Leave...leave him alone!”

 

Seconds pass as everyone shifts their weight nervously from one foot to the other. Then Spock sighs and closes his eyes to focus.

 

The yeoman leans back as if to leave but freezes as if shocked. Spock opens his eyes low and inhales slows just as the yeoman starts screaming and clawing at his skin. Nothing visible appears to be the reason for his distress until his skin begins to lose its tightness and green bubbles out of his orifices. He turns the same shade of orange as H'chn and falls to the floor, seizing violently.

 

“ NO!” H'chn cries out, struggling against Spock’s hold. “ Stop it!”

 

Spock ignores her pleas and comes close to her ear. “ For a moment I thought my Nyota had forsaken me. Do you know, soldier, what I thought to do to my beloved? What evil I wished to visit upon her before I paid my brother a visit…? All because of your bravado in deleting her letters?”

 

Spock starts to whisper in her ear so that none may overhear them. H'chn eyes go wide along with her mouth as he diligently murmurs the details. He stops and licks his lips, still emotionless in expression. “ There I go again, speaking instead of doing. Here, let me show you.”

 

Nychn thrashes her body in his hold and stares out at the others with wild eyes.“ No! Nooo! Help me!! Umph!”

 

She tries to pull away but Spock’s hands are already at her temples, feeding her the gut twisting imagery of his earlier musing.

 

Those gathered around the table back away to the walls as H'chn writhed against the table sounding more like a wounded animal than a sentient being. He watches her struggle as he filters the malicious reunion, ignoring his erection as he bares witness to his own thoughts.

 

He wants nothing to do with the Vulcaness trapped within his hold. All his lust lies in his bondmate, the small lithe creature he visualizes chained to his bed as he takes her as he pleases. Just when H'chn believes the worst is over Spock floods her with the plot to destroy his brother. Her earlier wailing exploded into something even more aggravated. She appears to be seizing but whether its from the poison or Spock’s mental handling, the crew cannot conclude.

 

All too quickly for his liking, the poison takes her away from Spock’s psionic hold and into fitfully death.

 

Spock retrieves his hands and settles them at his sides while those in the room look anywhere but where he stands. He takes a breath and eyes each one of them. “ She was right that their are still vipers with me on this scow but believe me when I say I knew each one of you for who and what you are, thanks to the yeoman.”

 

He picks up his cup from earlier and places it in the middle of the table among the prizes winnings and the scattered cards from their earlier game. “ You have a choice, just as Officer H'chn did, of coming to me against my brother or taking me on with me knowing that you’ve been commissioned to.”

 

He lets his eyes linger on a select few who cringe under the weight of it before he continues on.  “ You may question whether or not I was gentle with Officer H'chn but I can assure you, given my power, I was .”

 

He runs his finger over the rim of the cup and stares down at the liquid below. “ Drinking this wine will be far less painful and save each of us the time and energy we need to slaughter these Deltans and go the fuck back home.”

 

He narrows his eyes at the new commander and captain while keeping the rest of his face blank. “ Unless, of course, you wish to test that theory.”


 

Nyota finishes her daily missive to Spock with the waning hope it will reach him. It’s been ten weeks now and still no personal report or news of him. She finds herself highly emotional at the thought of his possible neglect and worries over the growing concern that he may not want her anymore.

 

Spock did get rid of T’Pring and she is by far one of the fairest Vulcans she’s encountered. That and he only annulled the bond between her at his father’s prompting. Maybe I am just a plaything for him? Something to mold and model until he grew bored with his latest toy , Nyota sighs tearfully.

 

She wipes at her face and takes a deep breath. Mercy, she has no patience or time for such thinking. Why has she been so quick to lamentations and angry recently? Perhaps it’s her poor constitution. She’s been so picky over her food when she even feels the need to eat. Her sleep is poor and she’s still tormented with the presence of Spock’s brother.

 

She’s thinks to go to the doctor for a milk or hypo for her many ailments but Nyota knows as much as anyone that there is now curing heartache. That’s what this was right, a breaking of one’s heart?

 

She sighs again and rises from her stool, calling for T’Les and the others to dress her for the day.

 

A silky, linen robe of white is placed over her thin slip with lace trim and pink ribbon accents. The same delicate details were added to her stockings and veil causing no end to her amusement. Yonag had told her recently that he had been research Terran clothing to improve upon her robes and she can’t be certain but she suspects that he may have stumbled across ancient Terran doll costumes and holos of Western wedding dresses.

 

As she explains the matter with the maids with holovids to aid her, they appear equally tickled...that is, as much as a sensible could be. Being around Spock and Sybok has skewed her viewpoint of their race admittedly but she does not think anyone would hold it against her if they were acquainted with the siblings. They were far from anything sensible.

 

The maids make a game of their task, trying diligently to replicate the look of one of the nicer looking holo. It shows a bride holding a bouquet whilst her groom stands in the background, looking more like an accessory than an equal participate in the affair.

 

The chambermaids do their work gladly, working hard to make their mistress smile and laugh. Their jokes are poor and their timing is most often wrong but their effort alone makes Nyota grin as she tucks her feet into her soft slippers.

 

Studying her reflection after makes Nyota catch her breath. If the Vulcans were anything, they were thorough as she inspects their reproduction of the holograph. Tresses curled and loosely braided, with makeup to further soften her features, she feels more like royalty than she ever has before. “ You all work wonders. I simply must take a holo and send it to the Prince.”

 

T’Les fixes her veil while the other maids hurry out with setting up the equipment. She tilts her head as she looks over her mistress and hums. “ One look at you my lady and our Prince will fall Delta within a Terran day to get back to you.”

 

Nyota smiles lightly and shrugs, moving the thick, beribboned braid at her shoulder. “ If you believe it to be so.”

 

T’Les straightens her posture and nods, almost emphatically. “ Very much, my Lady. The Crown Prince has never conducted himself as he does until he met you. He never once, to my knowledge, challenged his brother or checked his impulses. Prince Spock has also never spoke of marriage as we’ve heard rumor of. To say he’s quite taken with you would be putting it lightly.”

 

“ Then why have I not heard from him even once?” Nyota sighs. She winces at the whiny tone of her voice but tired and worried as she is, she can’t be bothered with conducting herself properly.

 

T’Les takes a moment to adjust her hair further and places her hands back within her sleeves. “ War is often fraught with peril and unpredictable circumstances. Perhaps he has tried and failed. Perhaps there are others who seek to keep you two apart…”

 

Nyota bits her lips at her last statement and nods. Some is more like one and the one she thinks of definitely couldn’t be more pleased with his current position.

 

Her Ladymaid notices the distress coming over Nyota’s features and quickly speaks to change the subject. “ You are free of your studies for the day, my Lady. What do you wish to do for the better part of it?” she asks with interest, folding her nightgown away in the refresher bin.

 

“ I should wish to relax.” Nyota thinks aloud. “ A game or two would be good. Not here in my chambers. I can’t stand to look at these walls any longer.”

 

Nyota crosses the room and glances out onto the palace ground towards the K’ai tree groove. The willow like branches sway in the wind revealing nothing beneath and Nyota feels her stomach knot at Spock’s absence. When exactly did he come to mean so much to her?

 

Does it matter when so much as he does mean the world to you? , a small voice implores her.

 

Looking away from his garden to the sill, she spies the shapely queen piece to his chess board and picks it up.

 

Upon closer examination the piece looks to be the same mineral and chemical composit like that of the quartz crystal Sybok gave her. The clear, smokey grey of it looks like a captured spirit inside the carved crown pillar as she turns it in the light of the suns. The memory of his warm hand opening hers and depositing the piece into her palm before closing her fingers around it comes to her with the recall of his touch.

 

He was so shocked that she had beat him but not entirely surprised. He had not counted on it so when she called checkmate, Spock had been blind-sighted into silence. She chuckles at the memory of his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he sought to protest the game but found that she had soundly beat him fair and square. ‘ You speak truth in regards to our game. Your talent never ceases.” he chimes with a quick lopsided smile.

 

He retrieve the piece and her hand, staring down in amusement at the board and her hand resting inside his own. She took a tentative look at his face and inhaled sharply at his swelling emotions. “ Thou art everything, Nyota. Pray thee finds contentment with me.” he spoke softly, in his people’s high tongue.

 

She swallows at the hot lump growing in her throat at the bittersweet courting and cradles the piece in her hand. “ Tell me, is there a hall in which I could play a round of three dimensional chess?”

 

“ Indeed, my Lady. I shall escort you there post haste.” T’Les nods and steps towards the door. “ There are a number of recreational activities there to entertain a lady such as yourself.”

 

She goes on at length over a number of other games available and stops each time someone moves to greet Nyota in the hall. Their procession is a small one, nothing more than a couple of guards and her T’Les but the attention and space the other Vulcans give her makes her feel as if she were the Empress gracing the halls.

 

The court seems equally taken with her clothing, praising her maids and tailor for such fine work in enhance her beauty. T’Les and Spock alike have stressed the importance of her maintaining the acquaintances she’s gained over the course of her stay so she takes time out to speak with each one. This only seems to excite them further and linger longer.

 

A few of those more brave souls extend offers for her to visit their homes located outside the palace walls but she knows what dooms lies in store for the males who propose it. Neither Sybok or Spock would tolerate such flattery, innocent or otherwise. Still, even after she kindly declines, their eyes stay gazing into hers as they grieve the missed opportunity. “ Would that I were a Prince, my Lady, I would never leave your side.” or “ It is a crime to hide such beauty as yours away.”

 

Nyota takes it all with practiced grace though their compliments start to embarrass her. Almost an hour after they’ve set out, they make it to the doors of the closets recreation hall. Her eyes find him before he even glances up. “ Your Grace.”

 

Sybok looks up from his PADD and blinks in that hawkish way that all Vulcans do. He appears very alien to her today, much too sharp and agile to be human as he rises from his seat and greets her with a nod. “ Bond-sister. Your presence is a welcome one.”

 

She deliberates feigning ill and excusing herself back to her chambers but he always at her side, pulling at her waist. “ I was bored and with nothing to do and thought to relax here. Tell me, Nyota, do you play chess?”

 

Stay out of my head she screams internally as she nods her head. “ That I do, Your Grace.”

 

He smiles, whether from her mental scolding or her answer, she can’t be sure. “ Excellent. Let’s have a go of it then.”

 

He escorts her over to a low lying table with pillows and cushions for seating and stares back at the door. Sybok watches as a comely Vulcaness serves them wine and a choice selection of nuts and fruits before returning his attention back to Nyota. A minute passes and neither he or the maid make any move to retrieve a game board or pieces.

 

Nyota fidgets into her seat and ardently avoids his longing gaze. “ We are going to play a game, aren’t we?”

 

Sybok sips lightly at his wine and hums. “ Do I not say we would.” He smiles down at her and runs a finger under her chin. “ Hmm, truly it is good to see you. Did you sleep well?”

 

“ As well as one can, Your Grace.” she replies coolly.

 

His happiness doesn’t waver in the face of her coldness and he goes back to staring at her in quiet contemplation. Another minute passes and Nyota gathers enough composure to question him. “ Emperor, when will we start our game?”

 

“ In about six second.” he says flippantly, reaching out to finger her hair. Looks like the court wasn’t the only one to favor her latest look. She pulls away only to have him follow him and sit closer. “ Sire, there are no pieces with which to play?”

 

He leans closer and brushes her braid away to plant a kiss on her neck. “ They are coming. Patience.”

 

She shivers as his lips slid further down her neck to her shoulder and grows suspicious of his wording. “ They?”

 

The door opens just a few seconds later and leaves Nyota speechless with what or rather who comes in.

 

One by one in an orderly line, scantily-clad humans and Vulcans parade in and stand before them. The sheer fabric draped over them dances around their figures, loose around their hips and torso, covering the shiny exterior of their oil-polished skin. No two beings look alike, each unique and exotic when compared to the others standing beside them. Dark, fair, tall, petite, plump and thin.  

 

“ There they are. Just in time for the game. My pretty ones.” he croons, lovingly.

 

Nyota looks them over and feels heat creep over her face. Each one of the beings before her could easily get by on their looks alone and yet here they are, near-naked before her, no doubt at Sybok’s beck and call.

 

Make sure you do everything not to join their ranks, Nyota, she thinks.

 

Some of the females are slathered in glitter, highlighting their busts or posteriors in complicated rings and patterns. The males have paint...elsewhere.

 

“ Seven hells, Sybok. What are…” she swallows the rest of her words as one male standing off to the right stares at her with rigid attention, both in his eyes and his...nethers.

 

He rises from his cushion beside her and graces the Vulcan male closest to him with a caress of his finger. At his touch the male sways towards Sybok and instantly hardens at his loins. Nyota averts her gaze and nervously sips at her wine on the table, dreading what she may witness between the two.

 

“ Marvelous, aren’t they? Simply the most gorgeous the quadrant has to offer. My harem.” he enthuses as he sips at his goblet. Sybok continues to caress the male’s cheek as he turns his focus onto Nyota back where she sits at the table. “ Which of these do you believe to be the most comely?”

 

Nyota darts her eyes between their faces and swallows at the lump gathering in her throat. “ Would that I could pick just one, your majesty. They are all quite lovely.”

 

Sybok sighs airly as he holds the male’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “ Mmm. Yes, I know. It is rather hard. Each as unique as a grain of sand. If you find it too difficult you could always note a few. I wish to know your opinion.”

 

Nyota focuses her mind on shielding her thoughts and choosing among them. She’d rather not have the ‘Emperor’ eavesdropping in as she picked. Who knew how far he would prod within her mind or how many of her plans he might blunder across. Because whether he knew it or not, she was still very much planning a means of escaping him.

 

Chewing inelegantly at her lip, Nyota lifts her hand to point among the ranks. With the ridiculously frilly bell at the sleeve weighing at her arm, she chooses a beautiful Terran woman with a deeper shade of brown than her own and her soft, frizzy locks only brushing past her shoulders. “ She’s quite nice. And...that fellow that you are...petting is very much a handsome Vulcan. I’ve never seen one with amber eyes.”

 

“ Yes, Sek is special.” Sybok agrees, staring the male in the eye with obvious heat. He curls the finger beneath his chin and smiles with his eyes as Sek purrs quietly in response to his master’s attention. “ So Sek and Shona. Who else, Nyota-kam?”

 

Not for the first time Nyota wonders why Sybok was having her choose them out. He’s been rather docile lately though she knows his mood to change like the wind over the dunes. Watching him dote on his lovers as he does now, Sybok seems like he’s in good of spirits as any. She decides it’s better to play along for now rather than question and irritate him. Maybe they would actually get to that game of chess.“ The strapping male there and thin, swarthy male with the...uhh..umm.”

 

“ Sizeable lok?” Sybok chuckles, glancing over at the male. “ Yes Zud is quite endowed but then again you know about such things, don’t you? You could further your knowledge with mine, but you’re a bore in addition to being a whore.”

 

Nyota pinches her lips together in suppressed anger and tries hard not to roll her eyes as he watches her. When she makes no moves to say anything else, Sybok sighs dejectedly through his nose and reclaims his seat beside her. “ Truly boring now. No matter, we’ve got our entertainment now.”

 

“ Entertainment? I thought we were awaiting your chess set to play a game?”

 

As she watches them the harem line’s eyes lose their focus. Moments later their bodies move in smooth strides. Those Nyota did not choose quietly file out while the others step forward with their heads bowed. Nyota looks over to Sybok as a small smirk curls the corner of his lips. “ We’ll play a game, Nyota. Which of these gorgeous creatures shall spill their essence first?”

 

Nyota shoots him a fearful expression and twists her lips. “ Their essence? You mean to bleed them?” she asks. Guilt wells in her throat as she thinks of the beautiful beings she picked meeting their demise. It wasn’t their fault that their looks attracted this crazy beast.

 

Sybok hums in amusement and pulls her easily into his lap. His arousal is apparent and the psionic energy coursing through him, buzzes across her skin like static from where he touches her. “ You are a kinky jarel aren’t you? No blood is on the agenda tonight, unless you have plans.” he chuckles whispering the last part into her ear.

 

She shivers and leans away only to have his face chase her. She turns her head away and the larger, older double of her bondmates settles for nuzzling his face into her hair with a pointed huff. “ Do not be so tart, Nyota. By Surak, Spock has spoiled you surly.”

 

“ These aren’t game pieces they are people!” she turns on him angrily.

 

“ They arouse you.” he accuses, with his hands tightening their grip on her.

 

Nyota blushes with a furious scowl and opens her mouth to rebut him when Sybok gently but quickly takes a hold of her chin. With a smug smirk the Emperor turns her head to face them and whispers. “ I can feel it. Your guilty desire to oogle them...the wish to see Sek touch himself until he spills across...who is it...the Vulcaness there?” he points, looking back at her face for confirmation.

A beat later the Vulcaness in question kneels before Sek with her hands at his hips. The amber-eyed male gazes down at her hungrily and takes himself into his hand, touching himself just as...she envisioned it!

 

He’s reading my thoughts and ordering them to do as I think!, Nyota thought in dread. All too late did she realize that she should have been shielding all of her mind from him. Now he’s spouting every dirty thought she’s had about his harem out loud for all to hear and subsequently see or do. They’ll hear and they’ll know, that she’s guilty of seeing them as parts and pieces too.

 

Nyota inhales sharply and shakes her head but Sybok nods and continues on. “... Oh ! And look, there’s the fine approval of Zud’s lok and...what’s that you think? You wish to see his rear as well as it bobs between my pet’s Zara’s thigh?”

 

“ Stop! Stop it! Don’t say such things!” she sputters in embarrassment.

 

/ Aloud? I’m only reiterating what I see, human./ She frowns at him and jerks her chin away from his hand. Sybok allows her to draw away but he drones on. “ Ah and this is sweet...yes, I too suffered under the temptation of wanting to see if my sweet Shona’s breasts are as soft and heavy as they look...oh don’t shy away from that thought, little sister, we all think along the same lines. Besides, I think you’ve gotten a hold of how the game works...” he hums, looking back at Zud and Zara beginning to carry out his mental commands.

 

“ This wasn’t the game I thought we would play!?” Nyota hisses, half-heartedly. The sight of the room is completely debauched and the sounds of it are even worse. Sybok holds his arm about her tightly as they look on at his servants working just as hard as her maids to carry out their Lord’s commands.

 

Shamefully, Nyota can’t keep her eyes from straying to acts and people before her, biting her lip as she watches in perverse guilt the filth that she had just pictured in her mind moments ago. She swallows as the woman Shona steps towards them.

 

No, no, no, clear your mind, clear your mind Nyota. Don’t think of anything sordid! Don’t!

 

/Too late for that now, bond-sister/ Sybok’s voice booms in her head.

 

Nyota knew why she was coming and in her nervousness, pictured something even more wicked as fought not to. Sybok gasps and Nyota turns to him and claws at his sleeve. “ No, please, don-”

 

“ Zud, Sek and Falor. Take Shona in hand. All at once.”

 

Nyota looks back in alarm to see the three Vulcan males rise up from their tasks to join their harem sister near where she stands in front of them. Sek quickly claims her fulls lips in an eager kiss while Zud’s pouty mouth closes over one of her breasts. With an ease and strength that comes naturally to them, the third Vulcan male, Falor takes her legs over his shoulders and seals his mouth over her sex.

 

Nyota looks on in a rolling set of emotions, all churning as she stares and finds herself unable to look away from what her mind has created. It is the most scandalous sight she’s ever seen.

 

It’s the most fiery thing she’s ever seen. Sybok strokes Nyota’s cheek and glances between her and the four in front of their table. His fingers dip lower and trace along the line of her neck in an almost tender “ Oh, Nyota, what a sport you are. What a rosing joy. Look at them. You play your hand like a natural. Spock had a good turn with you.”

 

Nyota’s breath comes in pants as she focuses on the lewd affection they give and take from one another.

 

Between the three, the dark, shapely human writhes in their hold, moaning into Sek’s mouth as their hands go and caress everything they can touch of her. Zud tenderly cups her breasts and goes from one to the other, licking and sucking the dusky buds at the center as his leisure. Sek’s fingers tangle themselves in her soft, wooly tresses, gently tucking her head back to gain better access to nip and kiss her mouth.

 

Falor is, notably, most passionate about his work, squeezing her thighs around his head as he does all many of things with his tongue. It’s not even a full minute later before she’s crying out into Sek’s mouth and shivering in Zud’s arms.

 

Nyota licks her lips with rapt fascination, never having witnessed such as scene before in her life. Every so often one of them looks over in obvious pleasure written all over their face, watching her watch them together.

 

Nyota’s trance-like stupor is finally broken when Falor moves to his feet and settles Shona’s legs around his slight hips. Shona breaks the kiss between her and the light-eyed Vulcan to arch her back and groan loudly at Falor’s rapid entry.

 

When he pulls his human harem sister down towards the ground to position her for the others Nyota freezes and shakes her head. This wasn’t right she couldn’t...she shouldn’t be having them do this.

 

Sek is halfway into her mouth while Zud prepares the tight bud of her rear beneath her with his fingers, when Nyota turns to Sybok in earnest. “ Make them stop.”

 

Sybok lifts a single brow not unlike his brother and looks genuinely surprised. “ Beg pardon?”

 

Nyota looks over at the four again and cringes at the consequences of her actions. “ I do not wish to play this game. They shouldn’t have to do this...something I would never do. It’s not right…”

 

Sybok blinks at her mildly and tilts his head. “ I can assure you that all four are having a most, pleasurable time. My pets care for each other a great deal. They would never harm each other unless I ordered them too.”

 

“ Please Sybok, I cannot ask this of them.”

 

Sybok sighs as he watches the small sect of his harm push and pull against each other. They are close to their climaxes but her wish to have them stop burns at his skin more than their pleasure does. He turns back to Nyota with a small frown to his handsome face. “ You truly wish to stop?”

 

Nyota snaps her mouth shut but remains panting as she cautiously nods her head. Sybok’s eyelids lower at her answer as he gives a nod of his own. With a contemplative sigh, he leans back on his hands and casts his gaze to the vaulted ceiling above. “ Very well. I’ll spoil my fun for your sake but I’ll gain something in return.”

 

Nyota frowns delicately at his reply and swallows nervously. “ What does his Grace require of me?”

 

He ignores her question and the four harem servants performing in front of them freeze and slowly untangle themselves. Shona audibly whines at the loss while Falor hisses down at his erection. They quietly fall back in line with the others and let their gaze go unfocus.

 

Nyota bits at her lip and watches Sybok’s profile as he continues to gaze up at the ceiling. “ Thank you. I...I just...thank you.”

 

Sybok lifts his hand and rubs at the smooth at expanse of his chin. Nyota looks at his still beardless face and doesn’t think she’ll get use to the change. He turns his head and cups her cheek with his thumb stroking at her skin.

 

She tries hard to ignore the way that it flips her stomach. He’s still staring at her, with that feverish caress when he speaks to her once more. “ I shall have my thanks. I shall take my jewel back from the jewel who hides it.”

 

Nyota yelps in surprise as he pounces on top of her with a felid-like movement over the low table between them. They hit the floor in a dull thud as Nyota’s body lands first. Her reflexes, however quick, are still human and she had not reacted in time to brace herself from the assault. The jolt of her connection with the soft cushions and marble floor below has her head swimming with a bout of vertigo. “...Wha…”

 

She moves her hands right herself but finds Sybok’s body caging her in place. His hands fly across her body, loosening the strands of her pink belt and pulling back her lacey, white robes to reveal the copper brown skin underneath. His face looks unaffected but his jagged pattern of breathing gives Sybok’s eagerness away.

 

“ You do still wear it, don’t you?”  he croons tearing at her undergarments. “ My little brother would be sore if you didn’t.”

 

Nyota shakes her head to regain her sense of balance but it’s all for not. The corsair king has made off with the pink lace that covers her maidhood and has put his fingers to work, stroking inside her.

 

Nyota cries out at his indecency and moves to attack his face with her elbow. He counters her blow before it can connect and turns her onto her side with a firm slap against her bottom. Nyota yelps at the sharp crack across her rear and hisses at the sting. “ I’ll have none of that, unless you want to deal an eye for an eye, sister.”

 

Nyota growls and claws her nails into his hand. “ I’m not your sister, knave! Release me!”

 

He pulls her swiftly onto her belly, moves the bell of her robes and swats at her rear again. “ You dare call me, the Lord of all you know to be, a knave and make demands of me ?!” Sybok buries his fingers within her channel once again and uses his other hand to swat at her stinging cheek. Nyota shierks and jerks as his thumb pointed caress at her center’s most sensitive spot with a disarming brilliance. “ Sybok! Let go !”

 

He merely huffs in response and does not stop his corporal discipline of her backside until Nyota sobs out a moan and clenches anxiously around his fingers. “ Sire, please! I beg thee, cease thy hands!”

 

Sybok flips her over and stares at her blankly as she sniffles beneath him. “ I do nothing more than seek to retrieve what is rightfully mine. You try to deny me.”

 

He curls his fingers as he does so until her breath hitches with a pitiful mew. Why did he have to make his touch feel good?! Hell, she doesn’t even believe him to be trying; he just feels good. And frightening, as well as thrilling.

 

“ You earned you my hand, pi’ko-k’ai .” he hisses down at her.

 

She’s inflamed from her anger and fear and more disturbingly by his lust. Just as others told her, Sybok’s passion is not at all like his brother’s, though very Vulcan in sensation. It burns at her, leaving raw, sensitive nerves in the wake of his touch. “ I’m not a courtesan or your sister, your Grace.” Nyota warbles loudly.

 

Sybok chuffs at her defiance and withdraws his fingers from her sheath. “ I’ll show you exactly what you are. I’m going to do what my brother should have done tevun-krus ago…”

 

He spreads her legs wide, disturbing the ribbons securing the stockings up over her knee. Nyota screams in protest, worried at what the action clearly seems to mean. She fights with everything in her to get free but his hands have her locked in place against the floor.

 

Instead of his horrid lok, its his angular, stubbled face that moves down in space between her thighs. There’s the glide of his nose along her heat then the bristly kiss of his mouth and tongue.

 

Nyota keens into the air, pulls helplessly at his hair as Sybok makes a meal of her. Seven hells and Bolian heavens his mouth! Her eyes rolls back and water as the feel over it overwhelms her. “ Let me go! Oh! OH!! Oh, Please! You must.”

 

His voice fills her head in a husky, dark whisper, You still attempt to command me? When will you learn that it is I that command you...

 

With each raspy lick and threatening pass of his teeth, Sybok goads her body towards a peak she never knew possible. Nyota closes her eyes to lessen the tense, feverpitch of it but the coarse royal doesn’t allow her respite. One of his devilish hands lashes out and carefully rings her neck, drowning Nyota’s being with everything he can.

 

Her pleasure, the perverse ilk of his own and that of his harem as they look on gleefully at their master’s work, flood Nyota until her body’s dark skin feels flush with fever.

 

She can’t harness it; it’s too much, too quickly and much too...oh Surak! words escape her! She’s empty of everything but him. As she empties, Sybok’s suction at her dark pearl steadily increasing until it’s all she can feel. Just a bit more and...

 

Nyota arches stiffly against her corset and soaks his face in her dew as she comes with wailing cry.

 

A taxing set of tremors beat against her, rocks her hips against his chin and mouth. Her voice, echoing around the room and down the hall, grows hoarse towards the end. She shivers in her bridal-like clothing as if she’s caught a chill and pleads with him to stop once more as he shifts above her. She’s unsure if he means to take her now but she’s none too proud to beg him off.“ I’ll give you the stone….I promise, please! Just st-”

 

Her mouth freezes mid-word as Sybok takes hold of her mind once again. Dipping his face to her sex once more, the mindlord uses his mental voice to mockingly chide her.

 

You will give me everything, Nyota…from my jewel to that sweet, little cunny of yours

 

Nyota bucks against his mouth with a renewed bawling while Sybok manipulates his lips in a fashion that’s beyond ungodly. As practiced and amorous as her Spock is, his brother works his mouth like sex itself is fucking her.

 

He moans into her and curls tongue around everything he can, pours the pleasure of all of it into her. So thoroughly enjoying himself, Sybok loosens the mental gag he places on her. Her mouth picks up where it left off and wails into the air. “ Stop! I’ll give it to you!” she sobs.

 

EVERYTHING! I WANT EVERYTHING NYOTA!

 

Her body seizes as if she’s been shocked and in a way she is. A sudden tickling flicker of his tongue sends her out of her mind and keening into the air. A rush of wetness spills from her in a curious fashion she’s never felt before. Sybok hurriedly cups her lips over her to lap the dewy fluid down his throat with a growl-riddled groan. Nyota lies limply as his clothing and face soak up the rest. Too exhausted to fight the brute any further, she lies in temporary defeat. As it is, the foul Vulcan has wrung her out like sponge.

 

“ Like water from a spring.” he gasps in satisfaction as he runs his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A deep throated sigh leaves his lips as her hands release his hair and fall to her sides. “ I know how to make you babble like a brook and yet you insist on my brother. ” he snips in disdain.

 

She ignores Sybok’s wounded pride and labors at the air to recover her strength but soon resumes her quailing when his mouth latches onto her again. “ Your Grace! NO!”

 

Sybok hikes up her skirt further and palms her rear, supping at her like connoisseur of cunt. He’s only five licks in and once again Nyota feels herself teetering at the edge of her control. Why did it feel so good?! She sniffs at the air tearful as her third climax leaves her thighs shaking around his head. “ No…!”

 

The point of his ears bites at the skin of her legs as his tongue plunders deep inside her quim. The dexterous organ wrestles the volkaya stone up and into his mouth with the same chime clink against his teeth as it had with Spock.

 

Sybok then places her limp figure onto the floor and lovingly pats her mons. His hand soon leaves her to pluck the stone free from his mouth and down onto the floor beside her. “ I believe this is mine.”

 

Nyota sniffles below him, watching the Emperor lick his lips and his fingers free of her essence. He gives her an appraising look and she can’t help but think of I-chaya questing after Haul-kur. And just like the young female, an older male has caught her.

 

Sybok holds her gaze and purrs out his words in a deep, resounding rumble. “ Like freshly milked cream. If you only knew how very much I long to churn it into butter with my lok…”

 

Nyota’s eyes grow wide at the prospect of his oath breaking romp. She would have no such business and trifle with him no longer. She doesn’t know how but she would be damned to be taken onto his cock. Sybok breaks into a momentary grin and chuckles as her righteousness pelts him.

 

“.....but promises are promises. For now I can have you sweetness across my tongue.”

 

“ No…! No more!” Nyota murmurs, now fighting him with renewed vigor. Sybok seizes hands with frustrating ease and coos at her with a pout. “ Darling sister, have I not been gentle with you? Have I not demonstrated the mastery of my mouth when compared to that rake of a brother?”

 

He pins her arms to the floor and climbs above her. The straining tent of his erection presses against her sodden sex and belly as he bends towards her. Nyota turns her face with a frightened scowl and groans as his hot breath brushes over her face. “ No.”

 

Sybok kisses wetly at her temple and nuzzles his nose tenderly along the curly fuzz of her hairline. “ My pleasuremates beg for my mouth...and here you are spurning it. Why?”

 

Nyota closes her eyes and bites at her lip, willing herself to shut him out.

 

Sybok, egocentric as ever, huffs at her petulence and spreads another, ghastly smile across his face. “ No witty barb to sting me with? No resounding rebuttal to quiet my postulating? Very well...I will have you screaming my name as you did for my dear brother and won’t stop devouring you until I obtain your submission.”

 

Nyota shakes her head tearfully and hiccups at the air. Her voice isn’t as strong or low as she would like it to be but her whiny whispers serves her just the same. “ Sybok, please! I gave you the stone! Please leave me be! No!”

 

Nyota squeals as Sybok shuffles down and uses his teeth to nic her along the hipbone. He only grows more ardant from there, snaking his tongue and teeth down the vee of her hip to her entrance until he’s lapping at her soft center once more.

 

Sybok’s harem looks on with mixed reactions as Nyota claws at his hair and cries out into the air from his ministrations.

 

And how he handles her. Nyota can hardly breath between the tightness of her corset and the strength of her struggling as she tries to wiggle free.

 

His hand only tighten in response, pulling her closer to his mouth, reigniting the burning of her hand-flogged bottom. She renews her screams for mercy when he tenderly suckles at the folds and flutters the tip of his tongue at the bud housed between them. Nyota bucks in his hold and trembles fitfully as he tosses her into another spasming set of waves. “Sire…!...please…!”

 

“ Say my name!” he growls against her leg. Sybok’s bright, blazing glare, draws her in and hold Nyota still. His nose flares above the solemn line of his mouth as Nyota keeps her mouth shut. It infuriates him.

 

“ Who pleases you, Nyota? Spock is nowhere to be seen but here you are, finding your pleasure with another. Name your new lover!”

 

She shakes her head and sobs as he reaches up to seize her mind. “ You will do as I command. Say it…”

 

Nyota’s lips part with a raspy gasp and freeze as she comes once more, this time with a tear-jerking gag. She couldn’t take much more...one was not made to suffer such perverse elation.

 

Say the name of the one who pleasures you...the ruler of the galaxy and all the known dominion. Call on the one, who will have and covet you all of your days should my brother fail us in returning...Invoke your God, bond-sister…

 

Nyota’s lashes flutter wetly and close softly across her cheeks. Her chest heaves at the air as she fights to regain control of her body but her earlier orgasm still rides her limbs, dimming her wits. Sybok runs his tongue along his lips again and tilts his head with small grin.

 

Shall I give you another? Would it thrill you to die in such a fashion? Suffocate from the pleasure stealing hold of your lungs? I have never done so...but there is always a first time for everything, dearheart…Spock will be left to return to nothing and I shall be your last...

 

“...Sy...bok…”

 

Again, dearheart…

 

“ Sybok…” she croaks quietly.

 

The Emperor makes a trademark Vulcan trill of pleasure, half hiss-half purr and releases her as promised. He sits up and rakes his unruly hair back with his fingers and gazes down at her with judging eyes. “ You always make things so difficult. I am unsure if it’s a human trait or something unique to your cheeky nature but you are an absolute joy to tussle with.”

 

He reaches out and lovingly pats her cheek and hums as Nyota flinches away from his fingers. “ Still think me to be the bigger monster, hmm? I’ve yet to enlighten you to the beast that you make your bed with but I’ll soon remedy that.”

 

Sybok picks up the stone that had been lodged within her quim from the floor and extends it towards his valet, standing silently by the door. “ See to it that this jewel is fitted into a collar. I don’t care what metal so long as it’s attractively set and comfortable for my sister’s extended wear. My brother did want her to have it, after all. Best that she have a more proper way of wearing it.”

 

His valet nods and accepts the stone by tucking it into a pocket square of velvet. As she watches the stiff backed male leave with her jewel, Sybok’s face comes back into view.

 

He stands above her disheveled state on the floor, sucking at his long, thick fingers with enthusiastic lewdness. When he reaches his thumb, he groans around it in clear pleasure. “ Delicious. You honey yourself like a bee’s hive when you come, Nyota. No wonder Spock got so cross with me for flavoring your quim.”

 

She sniffs and turns away her face away from him, earning her a clucking tsk. “ Come now, it wasn’t all that bad, darling. Come, come.”

 

He bends his tall frame and gathers her up against him with a deep, baritone shush. When she’s regained her footing, Sybok smooths a hand down her back and holds her tenderly with the other. “ We had an understanding, Nyota. It was in your best interest to concern yourself with mine. I would reclaim all of the crown. Did I not say this?”

 

He waits for her answer while smoothing his hand over her hair. Nyota swallows sourly and nods at the recollection. “ That you did, your Grace.”

 

He smiles and runs two fingers down her arm. When he reaches her wrist he circles the slight circumference of it with the aid of his thumb. “ And then there’s that one about fucking you…”

 

Nyota jerks against his hold, ready to run but his hands hold her fast. Sybok chuckles at her obvious distress before humming softly into her hair. “...but we needn’t fret over the future while the present is at hand.”

 

He lifts her chin and surprises her with a kiss that was so like Spock’s, Nyota thinks he has been conjured at that very moment. Needless to say it was sweet with a heady undertone of possession; a sensation she could do without feeling from this brother.

 

Sybok draws away and glides his fingers over her face and neck until she feels her nerves settle, albeit fractionally. Did these brother ever do anything with permission and prudence? What the literally fuck just happened she thinks gazing up at him in confusion and heartache.

 

“ You just needed reminding, bond-sister, upon our agreement. You needn’t go through all that if you had just used that brilliant brain of yours.” he teases, tapping her forehead.

 

His fingers are still gliding over her with that strange beckoning call to peace but all Nyota can think about is how it feels like spiders running up and down her arms. She may as well have been a calf getting ready for the slaughter house. Her thoughts trickle over to Sybok, though she knew they would. She’s too exhausted to shield herself.

 

He brings her up in his arms and closer still until her lips are against his own. It’s not quite a kiss but she feels each and every movement as he opens his mouth to speak. “ And if you don’t want to be reminded of what you are, Nyota, take care to remember the first time I tell you.”

 

His breath runs over her face and she can smell herself along with the tea they had been sipping earlier.

 

“ And what’s that your Majesty?” she asks breathlessly. Sybok narrows his eyes at her and she quickly speaks to amend her words. “ So I may err on the side of caution.”

 

Cupping her chin and tilting her head back to gaze at her, Sybok uses his other hand to marvel at the plush softness of her hair. “ Mine.”

 

She opens her mouth to protest but he’s there ready to take over and twists tales to his liking.  “ Until my brother comes to collect you, you Nyota, are my latest crown jewel. My darling, black pearl.”

 

He kisses her again then, moving her to swoon from his passion and the artful play of his tongue. The soft and wellborn nature the young Emperor has presented to her as of late returns as he does so. Slow and coy against her lips, Sybok teases her into trying to take the lead. He still tastes heavily of her as he moves his lips demurely along the fullness of her own.

 

He just forced his mouth onto you! Made you call his name! Claimed you as his! Get a hold of yourself Uhura!

 

Nyota fights to get a hold of herself but the more she resists his gentle forwardness, the more the handsome ravager pours himself into his kiss. It has her dizzy and fumbling. It’s not unlike liquor catching up to one’s mind. The longer he kisses her, the move Nyota’s head bobs within on waves of drunkenness.

 

And just as with Spock, his tongue feels alive with energy. With every passing curl against her, the raspy, green flesh lights her sense with the heat she inspires in him. Just like Spock. Spock…

 

Nyota makes a timid but assertive break from the lock of his lips and cast her eyes away. If she weren’t careful she would be swept away, never to be seen by her sanity or dignity again.

 

Spock was fighting to get back to her. As much as she could, with what strength she has, Nyota vows to limit herself to the monster she knows and loves, while arming her heart against the new beast in her wake. Still looking down at the immodest swell of her cleavage against her corset, Nyota whispers meekly. “ Your Grace. Thank you for informing me.”

 

“ Don’t have me to correct you again, ash-vel.”

 

At the sound of the petname Spock often called her Nyota flinches. Sybok’s arms remain solidly braced around her and bring her closer. He leans down and kisses her forehead with his lashes dimming the light over his eyes. “ What? I can’t call you beautiful now? How does Spock ever make peace with you?”

 

“ It’s not something I could explain, even if I wanted to…” she says quietly.

 

Sybok thinks on her answer and cups her face for another kiss, this time to round tip of her nose. “ Then mayhaps you could show the Emperor one day, even if you didn’t want to?”

 

Nyota stumbles momentarily as Sybok releases her and walks towards his harem. He holds up his hand to signal their attention and then points towards his wing. “ Inside my bedchamber. All of you. I shall have each of you this day so prepare for me.”

 

He looks over his shoulder as Nyota’s hand goes over her mouth in shock. He makes a familiar tilt of his brow and comments after her as he leaves for his room. “ Be careful, Nyota. One would almost think you’re starting to get curious about me…”

 

She’s not left with that much time to think as she comes down with fever that evening.

Chapter Text

Nyota lies sprawled across her bed breathing shallowly at the air. Her shift and bed linens tangle around her body like a constricting serpent.

 

Sleep has not come easily to her and rest has been even more elusive. Every evening for a fortnight has seen her plagued with torrid dreams, so terribly vivid that Nyota questions her mind.

 

It began the day that Sybok decided to use her for sport under the ruse of placing a game and has yet to cease. She tries to sleep but her body has been struck for days with heat and fever and dreams so wicked she can scarcely call herself to look anyone in the eye.

 

Dreams bordering on the side of nightmares parade behind her eyes every time she closes them to slumber. Uncanny as they are clear, these visions test the judgement of her sanity. Without lucidity, she’s has been a prisoner to every thought that her mind springs forth.

 

A random collection of fears and desires come to life every evening but always culminate into the same fate. She learns this from the first night and relives it each times she dozes off, in a recurring fog.

 

In it, Nyota opens her eyes to the low lantern light of her bed chamber, nude to the world. The air around her vibrates with energy, prickling at her skin with the need to be touched. She arches up and moans from a particularly delicious slide of something between the petals of her sex. “ Mmmm.”

 

She looks down at the head bobbing over the thatch of hair there and pants. Her hands move of their own volition, threading the silky strands of her lover’s hair through her fingers. At her touch, his mouth grows more insistent and has her clinging to his fringe with a mewling huff. His pleasure of her pleasure makes Nyota happy so when his large hands seize and flip her over she is all too happy to oblige.

 

With his hands sliding to her hips, she wiggles in his grip until she feels him bump and push at her entrance. A hand leaves her hip to press her shoulders to the bed while the other holds her hips high for the slow, gasp-inducing push of his lok. She can feel the tension of his anticipation sink into her skin, riling her up like a dog in heat.

 

He pushes forward and pulls back, working his cock until he’s fully seated inside her. At the bump of his sakal her eyes flutter close with a sigh. She missed this; missed the tease and taunt, the push and play. It feels so good to be full again that she could cry.

 

She thrashes her head against the mattress and her nails dig into the sheets as he slowly begins to rock her body onto his. He’s deep and deliberate in his strokes, burning at her nerves as if to drive her mad. A playful swat at her rear makes her hiss with a giggle. She counters with a slow wind of her hips and smirks victoriously as he groans behind her.  

 

The playful air leaves as his need to have them come eats at her patiences. She wants it too, craves the completion so much that when he comes, she sighs in relief. Both of his hands hold her still as he empties his seed inside her as if the knot weren’t enough in aiding pregnancy. His mind revels in the fact that she’s so eager and willing to take it. She wants all of him, wants all of this nasty, primal dancing they do. She’ll be his queen and together with their hier, they’ll bring peace to the universe.

 

As his knot recedes he brings her back to his chest and lovingly cradles her with a kiss to the neck. Nyota lies limp in his embrace, happy in that moment just to have him love her. Scruples be damned, she loved her wayward Vulcan prince. Back in his arms again, her heart feels as if it could fill the whole of her torso. Spock.

 

“ I love you.” she pants into the evening air. She leans her head back and grins up at the heavens. “ I love you so much.”

 

His hand goes to her face and turns it gently to reveal her lover. Handsome and fair in his own masculine right, he is not her Spock. His dark eyes, once engrossed with the sight of her soft, human features, flicker up towards her bewildered gaze. “ And how I have loved you, Nyota.”

 

Shock constricts her throat and steals her voice from her. No, she hadn’t...had she, is she? Is this real?

 

She gasps in dismay as Sybok claims her mouth and pushes his rapidly hardening lok deeper inside her. Her mind reels at the sight of him but her body is nonplussed to his presence. Mouthing at her neck and cupping her breasts, Sybok works his hips in all wicked manners known to her until she sobbing out his name.

 

Sybok sighs as she reflexively clenches around him, drawing him deeper and demanding his seed. He picks up his pacing to do as she wishes. If it is the milk of his loins she desires then he will give it to her in spades.

 

She twists half-heartedly in his grip as his large hands slink up over her breasts and grab hold of her shoulders. All too easily he pulls her down and smacks his hips against her backside, prying his lok free of her quim’s spasming clutches before reserving his course to drive it back in. She loses herself then in the beguiling cadence of his hips and whimpers as he throws his head back with a triumphant growl.

 

T’Nyota … my ash-vel , little pearl...” he groans into the air in a mix of Vulcan and standard as he holds her close for his release.

 

Hot, jets of his semen trickles from her overburdened womb in a wet show of his passion until his knot neatly seals the rest of it away. Nyota hangs in his arms in a limp, sodden mess. She vaguely feels Sybok’s hands go and finger at her collar. He taps the jewel that Spock had given her, sitting now as the link between the heavy bar of latinum around her neck. “ As soon as I had a clue of what you truly were, you were as good as mine.”

 

She closes her eyes as his fingers trail down to her quim and part her folds while he’s still fast inside her. His voice whispers into her ear and her mind as he slowly circles the hold of her clit.

 

“ Do not deny yourself of what you see here.”

 

“ It’s not re-real. I do-don’t...I-I don’t want this!” she shudders feebly. He circles her cunt more rapidly and she quails in distress.

 

“ Then speak truth and deny your attraction. Deny the thoughts I saw. Expiate yourself of the filth I witnessed in your mind when you thought yourself safe from the world’s prying eyes. Say that you never imagined me as bondmate.”

“ But...but I haven’t!?”

 

“ Then I ask you, Nyota, what I am doing here instead of Spock?” he jabs verbal with a quick jut of his hips for emphasis.

 

It’s usually then that she wakes, gasping and terrified of what her mind has shown her. Has she been untrue in her heart of hearts? Most of her denies every accusation the cur hurls towards her but night after thigh-quaking night she is met with her own set of perversions.

 

The worst dream was when she was visited by the harem woman Shona fast at work, taking on her lovers. It starts as Nyota had witnessed once before but later, Shona’s face becomes that of her own and Sek, Zud and Falor slowly morph to the royal males that held her captive. Seeing Sarek and Sybok in front or above her is enough to jar Nyota awake each time the transition happens but the arousal she’s left with plagues her guilt and a feeling of culpability.

 

She blinks up now at the dome ceiling, trying hard to ignore the dampness of her sweat has created in between the sheets as she deals with the heat. There’s another wetness that has her just as uncomfortable but for other reasons.

 

T'Sel, tired and worried over her Lady’s condition, has summoned up the courage to ask Nyota’s permission to send for a Scholar of Health.

 

“ Surely, another appraising look outside of your own, my Lady, cannot hurt? You have not been yourself. I worry that your ka’tra and your body are out of sync with one another.”

 

Eventually Nyota allows it to soothe her maid’s nerves but she does not look forward to it. Knowing the Vulcan Scholars, they would probably request to see her mind for distress or trauma.

 

And then they’ll see everything and I’ll have nothing to excuse any of it away , she thinks darkly. I love Spock but what can I say of my mind’s treachery as of late?

 

The scuffle of slipper covered feet on the marble floors has her weakly turning her head to see T’Sel with a visitor in tow. Her maid tucks her hands away in her sleeves and gives Nyota a gracious bow. “ Master Soval to see you, my Lady.”

 

Nyota nods feebly and struggles up against the pillows until she’s seated along the headboard. “ Master Soval. I thank you for coming on such short notice.”

 

Soval blinks at her blandly but holds that ever present Vulcan curiosity in his gaze as he takes her in. “ I, thank you, for the invitation. Pleasant company is rare these days.”

 

Nyota smiles and laughs in spite of her practice not to around anyone other than Spock and her maids. She’s happy to see, however, the tense atmosphere of the room ease as she does. Her waitstaff retreats just outside her door while his attendants find themselves refreshments in the foyer. Soval waits for their departure and comes closer as the last of them leaves to the room.

 

Nyota watches him from her pillow and blinks over his person. Out of all those she’s observed in the court, Soval has been, in her opinion, the most stately.

 

His thick, silver hair has always been neatly kept, softening the fine lines that trail his face as he rapidly approaches 180 years of age. She’s seen him before on Terra, in Nairobi as Emperor Sarek convalesced in, what they called to be, the mild weather.

 

There the elder Vulcan had always appeared to be congenial towards humans. When she had spied him on the palace grounds he had oftentimes been engaged in conversation at a salon set up on the Emperor’s balcony, discussing the latest philosophies over fine teas.

 

And unlike the royal Princes, Soval had invariably conducted himself with the utmost respect for the fairer race of aliens.

 

While Sybok could often times be caught taking some poor soul’s mind and body over terrace rails of the sparsely populated verandas, Soval merely commanded respect from his lessers.

 

And while the wreckage of Spock’s antipathy for others took place behind closed doors, Soval mirrored the nature of his Lord, never raising a hand or his voice towards anyone. He acknowledged humans but past what interactions were necessary the advisor seemed somewhat indifferent towards Terrans.

 

True, there had been tales of his fondness of the legendary hostess Hoshi Sato but from what Nyota heard it never went beyond lingering glances and coquettish dialogues.

 

His style of robes tells Nyota much of what she wishes to know about his character. While not even as grand as her own, they are never out of sorts and just as regally set as the royal family’s. His garb presents him as well as hides him as transverse the court largely unnoticed. It is for the reason she calls him now.

 

“ As much as I wish to entertain you, Master Soval, I’ve called you here for relief. I have been plagued with fatigue and have very little vigor about me.”

 

Soval’s face remains neutral as he gives her a modest inspection and general questions over person. His demeanor changes however when he gives her quim a thorough look over. He pulls at her nightgown and covers her with her bedsheet once more. “ I have quite a bit of news to tell you. But first, the Late Emporer’s wife and bondmate, wished to have an audience with you. I shall say no more or no less for fear of eavesdropping but I do need to relay if you wish to accept.”

 

Nyota blinks down at her hands and back up to the Elder Vulcan in confusion. “ Wish to? You say it as if I have a choice? She is the Queen mother.”

 

“ Only in name now, I am afraid.” he says quietly, rising up to wash his hands in the basin near her bed. As he rinses he shoots her an almost sympathetic glance. “ She did not think you would wish to see her.”

 

“ It’s quite the opposite! I would love to see her and would have visited her sooner had I been allowed into her wing.”

 

It’s Soval now who turns to her in confusion. “ Allowed?”

 

Nyota nods weakly, rubbing at the sore ache to her back. It had been throbbing and burning all week. “ Every approach I made towards her rooms had me met with guards. Every one of them said that the Empress requested solace as she mourned.”

 

Soval’s nostrils flared briefly as he sniffed at the air. “ A lie. And not a very clever one at that. It seems to be the same one given to the Empress about you as you mourned Spock’s absence.”

 

Nyota’s brows furrow in angry as he takes his place back her side. No doubt this is Sybok’s doing but why would he keep her from Lady Amanda? She was human and without much power outside of her title which he could recind if he so wished. So why the separation.

 

Drawing no clear conclusion, Nyota gives her full attention back to the Scholar at her side. The same pitying look returns to Soval’s eyes as he watches her. She notices his very un-Vulcan expression and sits up warily. “ What is it?”

 

“ You have an infection. Two actually. One in your urinary tract which has lead to the development of one in your kidneys. That is the cause of your fever.”

 

“ Oh.” she says in surprise. Perhaps that was the pain of her back, then? “ Thank you, I’ll take any hypos that you have for it.”

 

Soval lowers his gaze momentarily and pauses over a thought. When he speaks again his voice is hard and detached. “ There is another condition that ails you, my Lady. You were pregnant.”

 

“ Pregnant?!” Nyota’s hand automatically goes to her belly in wonder until her mind catches up with her. Were. Were pregnant. “ What do you mean by were?”

 

“ There is blood present in your quim. Upon inspection, I believe that your infection and subsequent fevers have terminated the gestation.”

 

The room after her grows strangely quiet and the sound of his voice is nothing but a hiss of noise. Soval stops speaking and says something once and then over again. She can’t understand, it doesn’t make sense.

 

“ My Lady, are you well?”

 

She doesn’t stay conscious or stop crying long enough to answer him but as a doctor he should know that she is not. Not at all.

 

-----------

 

The days that follow after are all a blur. Her period comes to her, heavy and painful and the maids all fear her death. They still know very little about the nature of humans other than one should not bleed so profusely. None but T’Sel know of her loss and she swears herself to secrecy.

 

Rumors soon fly that she is perishing without Spock at her side. It was he that had killed her once and brought her back to life. Without him here to sustain it then surely she would depart for the realm of Reah. The bitter news has the royal court collectively mourning. They fear for the Crown Prince’s welfare but that of his consort is undeniable more valued for the changes she wrought with her presence. Before Sarek’s death, her attendance had been a highlight of every fete and holiday.

 

It was no matter that she was human, that she was just a mere artisan, her charm and kindly manner had ingratiated her to every Vulcan heart she encountered. And those fortunate enough to see her performance for the late Emperor were fit to be tied over the potential loss.

 

Her life is paramount to instilling peace within the realm...the crown prince will be beset with grief if she perishes...is there no mercy for this poor human? She is one of the better ones...the new Emperor is beside himself in the face of her poor health…

Prince Spock should have never visited his evil upon her the first time; he shall surely lose her this time...she was unnecessarily kind to all the Vulcans she encountered, both high and common born, truly a sensitive ka’tra she has...the luster and verve of Terra shall be lost without her , are just a few of their more toted quotes being tossed around the palace.

 

In her estimation, Nyota feels that her performances had amounted more to nothing but practice and exercise. For the noble lords and ladys and their waitstaff however, the invitations and audiences she’s given in months past have gone far beyond an evening event.

 

Flowers, sweets and all manner of medicines have been brought to her chambers as well-wishers work to extend their gratitude and compassion. Nyota thanks them all and promises to let them know of her health. As it drags on, Nyota finds herself weary. Sybok is troubled by it and seems unsure of himself and the situation.

 

The Emperor has been strangely absent from her quarters in the night as if he is observing her distress with a measure of respect he rarely gives her. In his stead he sits in with her during her lessons under the guise of listening to her tutor’s instruction. He has come to her studio as well but found her feet still and her voice silent as she stares vacantly out the window.

 

Thankfully, the wars being waged abroad have kept him in these particular exercises and Nyota takes a bit of pleasure in being able to be alone.

 

A child. She had been with child and hadn’t even known. What kind of woman did that make her she thinks accusingly. The thought of her obliviousness and miscarriage do not sit well with her.

 

Whatever fears she had about pregnancy and motherhood at large were being brought to the forefront of her mind in a stark and alarming light. Perhaps she is not strong enough to do so or lacks the constitution? Maybe…

 

She’s contemplating this notion late one evening when her comm rings with an incoming call. She makes her way slowly over to the corner where it’s housed and stares at it curiously. Who could be calling. Anyone that knows her is aware of her preference for the written language.

 

Was it one of her host sisters? They had never called before, only written, but maybe something had happened? Hopefully one of them had paid their debt and become host mothers; it was hard work but easier still than a hostess.

 

Was it another set of royal trying to summon her for an event, perhaps the Terran Prince Kirk with his Scholar of Health, Master McCoy? She shivers in the memory of her first night being known to man with them and shakes her head. Lovely and gentle as they were to her, it had not been an easy night having the two of them.

 

As if either Vulcan royal would allow their calls let alone their presence , she scoffs in humor. Now in front of the console, Nyota sees the royal sigil etched onto the screen. Spock?

 

Against reason and hope, she seizes the controls and accepts the message.

 

At the sight of his face her legs give way, fortunately landing her onto the vanity stool. Disbelief and heartache train her eyes onto the male before her and she can do nothing control her tremor of her hands. The picture is grainy, static feels the audio but despite all this there he is, smudged with grease and his eyes locked onto hers. The electronic tools in his hands fall to the floor as he takes hold of the console. From her end she hear the screeching groan of protest the metal gives under the strength of his hands.

 

“ K’diwa.”

 

Spock’s voice cracks along with the rigid hold of his mouth as he beholds her on the view screen. Nyota swallows the painful lump welling in her throat at the sad sight of his face, made more gaunt-looking from the longer length of his hair. Just as Sybok has gone clean shaven and trim, Spock has forgone his shears altogether.

 

Most of his mane is tied at the crown of his head in a messy topknot but much of it looks to be escaping from the ragged red ribbon binding it. His arrogant composure is almost a ghost of its former, boastful glory under the weight of the war. Nyota bats her eyes to conceal the water gathering there. “ Spock. You look…”

 

The forlorn appearance of his face vanishes and is replaced by a small smirk under the thin but growing beard. “ Do not attempt to lie. Even at this distance I can feel your distress over my appearance.”

 

Relief at the return of his typical arrogant nature chases away what worry Nyota felt bogging her down before the call connected. Surprisingly, for the first time in nearly four months, Nyota feels Spock with a certainty that leaves no doubt. He loves her and to hear her voice and take her in even from the viewscreen is exhilarating.

 

He’s alive! And finally, she has been blessed with speaking with him over the comm. After weeks and months of no communication, they finally face each other even if it’s just virtually.

 

She knows subspace communications throughout the quadrants had been spotty as the rebels sought to make communiques between officers and their squadrons more difficult to relay.

 

The effect was most felt within Deltan space, where they were redoubling their efforts to cripple Vulcan’s strikes against them. On some fronts it had worked and on others...well there had been reports that Spock was twice as harsh in exacting his revenge on those he had found to cross him.

 

The bastard prince was making a name for himself when it came to his warcraft. Seems he fancied stealing enemy soldiers’ minds and leading them back to their camps heavily armed with his own bloodlust thick in their veins.

 

His tactics had won them numerous battles but the war for Delta Prime Palace still raged on. The Deltans were not limited to touch or bonding for their telepathy but their physical strength was like that of a human’s at best. The success of either party depended on stealth and strategy; how and when they attacked.

 

Nyota sees for herself the toll it has taken on her lover as he looks more and more like a feral dog. His eyes are now set at the collar at her throat, with a question in his eyes. The muscles lining his sharp jaw tic irritably.

 

“ It is well for my eyes to see you living.” she offers instead and it is. Sometimes Nyota had gone weeks before she would receive even a report of his location while others were filled with terabytes of glorious battles and promises of his return as Imperial propaganda. All of their warring and ill past aside, Nyota missed him terribly.

 

“ You look as ravishing as the first night I laid eyes on you. Ash-vel...you....” he rasps looking wistfully at the screen.

 

Nyota smiles and nibbles at her lip. She’s not beside him but she can tell from his gaze and the way his breathing, his chest is shaking with a reverberating purr. He shifts from his seat to scoot closer and some of the excitement dims from his face, leaving him stoic. “ How are you fairing?”

 

Nyota shakes her head solemnly with a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “ That’s hardly fair to ask and for me to answer, given your situation.”

 

Spock lowers his brows and counters her coy answer. “ It is for me to say whether it’s fair or not. It isn’t as if you are being left unharassed and if you were to tell me otherwise I would call you on your bluff.”

 

She stares down at her gown and bites at her lip as he continues to chide her. “ I know my brother and his ways. Do not attempt to beguile me into thinking him a changed male after taking my father, taking the crown, taking my intended and sending me away…!” he hisses through his teeth.

 

“ He has not taken me, Spock-”

 

“ Not on his lok, perhaps but he has taken you from me .” he spits with a desperation to his tone of voice. He glares at her neck and shoots another venomous look at the jewel that is bound around it. “ I do not suppose that you fashioned that to be worn that way? Sybok always had a lust for claiming things in such a way.”

 

“ How did you know?” she asks breathlessly, thumbing at the jewel. It feels different now, colder, as it was always once warmed by her quim.

 

Spock tilts his head and for a moment she doesn’t recognize the man before her. Memories of her history lesson come to her and she likes him for one of the ancient generals once more. It is not a kind assessment, however. Just like the jewel, Spock now seems frigid and hard.

 

“ When not in his presence, Sybok’s harem, wear chokers, not so different than your own.” he says darkly. “ I am...disturbed by this, perhaps even more than you are.”

 

“ I would not know.” she answers neutrally. She’s tried removing it as she sleeps and showers but the locks on it aren’t like anything she’s ever seen.

 

“ Do not forget what that collar around your neck means to say.” he presses with his eyes burning with emotion. “ He means to take you, to what end I haven’t the facts to speculate but he will not rest until I am dead or you have spurned me in favor of him.”

 

“ You can come back and we can-”

 

“ We cannot escape him, Nyota, if I he is alive.” he growls, cutting her off. “ He is a bottomless pit that will swallow everything whole. Say what you will of me caring not at all about anything. Other than you beloved that assessment may fair true but I tell you, that one cares very much about everything and that is something which puts him in a far more dangerous frame of mind.”

 

Nyota yanks at her necklace and slams her hands down into her lap as she is no closer to freeing herself.“ Spock, that...this whole conversation is not helping! What the hell are you telling me to do!?”

 

The hardness of his face abates and softens, seemingly cowed. For a full minute he is silent with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks as he gazes down at something she cannot see. A sparkle glints brightly at the corner of his eye and quicker than she can fully track, Spock swipes at his eyes. Is...is he crying?!

 

Nyota watches the transformation and jumps in her seat when he speaks out of the blue. “ I am at a strange paradox...I have become the most powerful and lethal I’ve ever known myself to be and yet I am helpless to protect you…”

 

Nyota shushes him and holds a hand to the screen. Spock’s eyes get sleepy looking as places his hand on the screen as well. “ You should never forgive me, love. I’ve failed you so…”

 

“ What? No. Don’t think like that, that will get us nowhere. Just-”

 

He continues over her, looking to expiate himself. “ I am a mighty selhat that’s been caged away from its master, unable to defend what I live for. Toothless in the face of adversity. How impotent I am…”

 

His features fold into scowl as he thinks on it further and when he looks back Nyota doesn’t recognize the face of the male staring back at her. It scares greatly but in the back of her mind it thrills her. Or perhaps that’s his anticipation she feels. Either way she does not dismiss it. “ Whatever he does to you, Nyota, I shall reap upon him thrice over. Confess his sins to me and I shall become your fabled devil himself in my brother’s reckoning.”

 

Nyota’s chest heaves as she takes him in with her eyes. Her own Crown Prince. Seemingly composed and a picture of Vulcan discipline, she feels his wrath all the way from Delta Prime as if he were there with her in the room. Is it just seeing his face or has the bond between them grown suddenly stronger?

 

He’ll know you’re sins too. Know all your doubts and desires. He will judge you. A small voice of dissension says. But what does she have to lose? So what if he knows her sins, he knew them all before. Sybok wasn’t the first Vulcan rummaging around in her brain. And when it comes to her dreams, he has no more control over them than she does a sneeze.

 

Nyota’s unsure how wise it is telling Spock the length and breadth of what has transpired but longer he waits patiently for her reply, the more eager she finds herself in wanting to give it. At one time she needed relief from Spock but as they grew steadily closer, she now finds relief in him.

 

She gathers her nerve to tell him about his brother’s transpasses and the memory of Soval’s visit comes ringing forward. Fresh water stings at her eyes and she can no longer keep face. “ Some things have happened...things I couldn’t stop from coming to pass…”

 

“ Tell me…” he prods her softly. “ Do not have my brother steal your voice. Tell this one what he has done. Tell me...”

 

Nyota squeezes her eyes shut and takes a ragged breath. “ Spock...I’m sorry…” she begins. “ I did not know, Sybok didn’t do it but…I didn’t know...it just happened...”

 

Spock’s gaze slowly changes as he takes in her nerve-wrecking account. He is silent as his beautiful bondmate laments on her plight but his eyes speak volumes.

 

From confusion to shock and into furious blaze as he hears the last of it, Spock’s emotions roll and boil into a fever pitch. When he learns of her fever and the details therein, she actually bows in pain, his pain , with a gasp for air. She shuts her eyes again and fights to breathe as her chest constricts from the power of it. It’s so much, his emotions and her own, that the weight of it threatens to choke her. “ Spock…”

 

He swallows roughly, with more gusto than one would need and she can tell he that the news has caught him off guard. With her, and most everyone else, he had never been careful of impregnation. Humans were notoriously hard to breed and up until this time he had yet to whelp bastards of his own. But this...this was an unusually cruel twist of fate.

 

Perhaps he developed the way that he did, deficient of empathy and all manner of emotions because it hurt too much to care about other when you had family like his. The truth is biology has more of a hand in his psychopathy. It wasn’t like his brother hadn’t reinforced his apathy, grooming Spock as he had. Nyota had been a turning point to his cruelty and Sybok simply could not tolerate that his beautiful, loyal monster had told him no when it came to a common Terran.

 

This was just one of many punishments for Spock’s defiance and in his estimation the worse. He hurt his Nyota and stole away their chance to potentially be a family if she had carried to term. He hurt her, hurt them both.

 

Then just as suddenly as it began, she feels nothing from him. She blinks up at screen to Spock looking completely unaffected staring back at her. In her mind, his presence is vague just as it had been before but his emotions had been clear.

 

As much as he was wounded to learn of her dire straits and mental abuses, Spock is doubly torn by the loss of their…of their…

 

She fists the fabric of her gown as the last traces of their exchange fades from her and sighs as her breath returns.

 

“ Wait for me.” he commands as much as he pleads with her. “ Protect yourself and surrounding your person with those who would do the same.”

 

Nyota smiles with a huff and cocks her head towards the screen. “ You told me that before you left.”

 

“ It remains relevant.” He snips in all seriousness.

 

“ Have no concern, that I will.” she snaps back. The moment she does the stern expression lining her face leaves for a softer one of longing. “ Spock?”

 

He tilts his head towards the screen and waits for her question. She takes a deep breath and stares longingly at his picture on the screen. “ We’ve had our history but I need you to know...while I’ll never forget your cruelty...I love-”

 

Just before she finishes what is so hard for her to confess yet again, the comm screen goes blank. She sits in front of the blue screen with Vulcan sigil stamped in the middle and wonders over the connection. Was it the Deltans disrupting their communications? Should she try to reach him again? “ No...NO! Come back!”

She bangs against the comm pad and tries calling him again. And again, but time the code comes up as invalid.

 

She wonders over the panel when a familiar, velvety voice tickles her ears. “ Telling tales, dear sister? What nonsense have you been shoveling over the comm?”

 

Nyota whips her head around to see Sybok’s elegant frame towering the doorway of her bedchamber. “ Naughty Nyota-kam.”

 

She swallows nervously to control her breathing as he crosses the room and comes to stand beside her. “ Were you busy distracting my brother away from the war effort? You should know better.”

 

“ I only wished to know how my fiance fared, your Grace.”

 

“ If we haven’t heard of his death, I’m sure he’s well.” he quips, looking her over. He takes in her distraught appearance and reaches his hand over finger her hair. “ You are upset.”

 

“ Not anything to trouble yourself with, your Grace. A trifling matter.” she assures him, retrieving her hair. Not that the cad ever listens. As they both brothers love to do, Sybok pulls her out of her seat and up against him. As she glowers up at him at his forwardness, Sybok cups her cheek with his psionic energy running high.

 

“That’s for me to decide…” he corrects, with the bass of his voice throbbing in her ears. Sybok tilts her head for a kiss and she decidedly turns away in resistance. He huffs at her and steals her lips anyway, kissing her soundly until she mews weakly into his mouth in protest. And of all things, a shameful and wicked lust pass over her from his mouth. The feeling of it is like ash on her tongue, disgusting and empty.

 

She was beside herself with grief over her unborn child and the state of Spock’s current condition. The last thing she wants to feel is wanton. As if reading her mood, the sensation slowly evolves to something more sensual, loving, adoring. It feels like a balm on her nerves and eases the ache in her chest but she doesn’t want his love. Not you, I need Spock she thinks sadly.

 

With every turn of his mouth, however, Sybok literally smothers her in it, eating away at her wall of reservations. When he pulls away his lips, Nyota feels dizzy and unsure of her feet. A glance at his face, lets her know Sybok’s pleased with the effects which only makes her fight harder to shake the lightheaded headiness. “ If you would excuse me, Sire, it is far past my time to retire.”

 

“ Don’t let me stop you, ash-vel.” he says sadly. “ In fact, I will aid you.”

 

Nyota shakes her and yelps as his hands seize her waist and spin her back against him. “ First, let’s rid you of your clothing.”

 

No, not now, not right after speaking with Spock, not so soon after losing someone she had never known to be there she blinks in tearful anger. Nyota swallows hard as his hands come up around her and labors her body and soul not to be moved one ounce by his advances.

 

She pants frantically against the tight hold of her corset as his fingers slowly seek the first clasp, button or ribbon to undo. It takes no more than a few seconds but the times stretches out like hours. Nyota shuts her eyes to the sight of them roaming her body and concentrates on her clearing her mind.

 

As it is, memories of his younger brother doing almost the same exact act when they first met fills her with dread. It was like this, his large, hot hands nimbly ripping at her stockings and tearing at the seams. And yet this brother is different, always different from her Spock.

 

He is patient, lingering over the planes of her neatly, garbed frame to sample each and every inch of her. He’s so focused at his work that it’s clear he’s in control of himself. Spock was nearly mad with lust when he took her, spilling quickly and regularly over the course of hours that left them both spent. It was like being maul by a sex-crazed beast but in this moment as she stands with her back against the new, brooding Emperor, Nyota can’t help but fear this new monster more. If Spock was a mad dog then Sybok was recalcitrant cat who couldn’t help but play ( or more like torture) his prey.

 

Each gentle nudge and delicate prod of his long fingers is merely a test of her defenses. In many more way, Nyota has found the elder sibling more terrifying. Sybok is exacting in his motions, wasting no energy or breath though he appears at ease. It always felt that Spock was a step ahead of her but with Sybok it feels like three.

 

Sybok finally busies his hands on her corset, untying the satin ribbon before sliding his hands to the front of her bodice. One by one, he plucks the ivory hooks free of their clasps and lets the thickly, embroidered cincher fall to the floor. The pale, blue gown beneath is easily shed but again Sybok is methodically unhurried about pulling the fabric down over her waist after taking his time about the silk knot buttons.

 

Nyota remains still as stone as the roguish Vulcan beholds her in her chemise, relishing over how the uniform cut of it has molded itself to her slight figure. Leisurely sliding the straps aside, he bends to plant a kiss to each shoulder with his lips resting on her longer than necessary. “ As I said before, my bondmate before you was pretty but you, Nyota are truly awe-inspiring. Even in your melancholy.”

 

“ Thank you, your Grace. That is most kind of you to say.” she murmurs quietly into the silence in the room, wiggling away to get free of his hold. It does escape her notice that he said his bondmate before her...as if she were now his.

 

Nyota wonders more if she was correct in assuming that he had control of his faculties. Perhaps her fear clouds her judgement? Her fever has left her along with the infection but the dreams still remain. Their foulness could have somewhat corrupted her mind, having her read things that aren’t there, see signs in things that are honest in their presentation.

 

By that as it may, the Vulcan behind her always has a reason or reasons for saying and doing whatever he does. She takes a deep breath and pulls against his hold. “ I shall retire now.”

 

He pulls her retreating form closer. “ I. Am not. Done.” Sybok sighs against her neck. The short whiskers of his chin hair tickle the skin her collar doesn’t cover causing her to shiver away. Sybok sighs again, this time with a huff as she does so. “ Please do not cower from me. I only mean to comfort you.”

 

“ Yes but the means in which you intend to do that I find off putting.”

 

He turns her then and Nyota clenches her teeth at the sight of his sympathetic stare. His mouth is curved into a light frown, made more severe-looking from the arch of his brow above. It’s his hands at her face that flummox her. He..this, horrid, psychopathic alien, is truly upset at her grieving.

 

Through his fingers she feels the burning, aching hollow that lodged within her chest mirrored back through his hands. He straightens his mouth but the look of concern still brightens his eyes. “ I have worked to give you space but cannot tolerate this any longer. Your sadness is a cool, sharp thing in the back of my mind. It is like the suns, there every morning when I rise, piercing me with its brightness.”

 

A thumb swipes over her lips and warms the flesh there just as much as a lips would. He’s being earnest but it is all strange for her to take in. Nyota listens to him warily as he goes on and continues to molly-coddle her face. “ You’re a brilliant, little devil you know. I have requested all of your tutors to give you Vulcan level objectives for your scholarly pursuits. Bumbunters thought to take it easy with you because you are human, but I know you’re wit is just as sharp as the lot of us. T’Priah praise, you might actually beat most of the court in a game or two of kal-toh.”

 

He stops then and growls, seemingly at himself and tips her chin up so she gazes up at him. “ Tonight, dear human, you have the Emperor of the quadrant begging you to be happy. Would that you could be, but if you could I would move constellations to make it so.”

 

Nyota peers up from where she stands below and steps away from his hold. “ I do not ask for stars to move or to humble the Lord of them. I ask to retire and be left to my sadness.”

Sybok’s eyes dart over her face before growing more heated. “ No.”

 

He seizes her in his arms and carries her in his arms. Nyota shrieks and beats against. “ Loose me! No!”

 

He ignores her and tosses her onto the bed. Immediately he starts to the process of shedding his clothing and sends her scrambling away to the other side of the bed in hopes of fleeing. He growls in consternation and strips faster. Free of everything but his trousers he leaps onto the bed and snags her waist with his arm. “ No.”

 

Nyota slaps him hotly on the face and spits at his eyes. “ Monster! Murder!”

 

Sybok merely blinks at her and holds her closer as she rages on against him. For nearly a standard hour she hurls insult after insult at his person with kicks, slaps and bites to punctuate the point until she tires into sobs.

 

“ Just...just leave me alone!” she wails hoarsely, still pushing at his chest from where he holds her. He soothes her hair back down across her scalp and kisses her softly. “ No.”

 

She sniffs and jabs a finger angrily at his sternum. “ Is that...all you can say?! No. No. NO.

 

She growls as he tightens his hold and resumes trying to free herself. His strength never slackens and eventually spent energy and the coming night have her asleep in his arms. There Sybok continues to pet and kiss her until he too falls asleep. And for the first time in weeks he frees her from the grip of his suggestive dreams.

 

They didn’t seem to be working anyway he smiles with a huff in her hair.

 

One day though he means to have her come to his room and beg him for what she sees in them.

Chapter Text

Sybok kisses Nyota’s sleeping form soundly on the lips and sighs in disappointment. “ I wish you were awake, ash-vel. I want to feel you kiss me back.” he hums, pulling her closer.

 

Snuggled up as he has her now, Sybok can’t help but relish the resulting feeling of warmth. It’s something he’s only felt this deeply before with one other female. It is a shame that T’Vas bonded to him when she did. Perhaps if he had been older, wiser and much less impulsive...she’d be here in his arms instead of his brother’s chosen.

 

It is humorous, he suppose that his bride had been named ‘my relief’. Sybok rarely got any from her. That’s not to say that they didn’t join themselves frequently once they came of age. It was more that she riled and thrilled him.

With such an adventurous spirit, T’Vas put him through his paces. Her mischievous behavior was a welcome respite from his royal duties but to say that their jaunts were relaxing was far fetched. Whether by bond or body, the pair of them were a...satisfactory match.

 

As much as Sarek loathed him for his mother’s passing, father dearest always has looked out for him when it counted. Sybok had seen the tan maiden going about court long before but he hadn’t know that she would have ever been his half.

 

She was comely enough, though that’s not how one thinks at seven tevuns. Some things stayed with her though; her intelligent brown eyes, her healthy curiosity and ears that Sybok grew to fancy more each day.

 

They were close, he and T’Vas, and came of age well together, much to her family’s relief.

 

Even then her parents and relatives could all see him for what Sybok was but they dare not say no to his father. Their child was happy and well-cared for and that was the most they could hope for beyond the wealth and status, that they all soon gained.

 

T’Vas was breathtaking, a sight of engulfment for those who saw her in her early forties. For Sybok she was more like a piece of art made manifest, delicately carved and crafted. Her hair danced about her shoulders in thick, coiling ropes and her scent was most divine. Above all else, his Vulcaness loved him.

It was illogical to harbor such affection as a highborn but she did not care, but Sybok soon found that he did care. And as much as could he tried to be considerate of her but that small peace ended before it even truly started.

 

It was her fault though he thinks, crestfallen, he made her choose between her and his brother. She didn’t put it that way but the way she went about trying ‘protect and preserve’ him seemed an awful lot like her casting herself between them.

 

Idly, Sybok combs his fingers through Nyota’s hair as she slumbers quietly in his arms. Thoughts of his departed beloved have upset him and he’s comforted to have the small human, his human here, beside him. Nuzzling against her cheek, the moody royal tries to set his mind on lighter things. The wanning scent of his brother from her person, while encouraging, makes him fretful. She’s been avoiding him and actively so.

 

The night has been the only time he’s been able to have his cheeky human to himself but it’s time well spent. Nyota could not wallop him with accusations and body blows when he had made sure to stun her unconscious. Still he missed her melodic voice, her graceful movements

 

...and her squealing protests….ah the way she spoke my name was like wine to a beggar, he broods, clutching her in his hands. All of this warming that he had done towards her had been brushed away from the ill carriage of Spock’s offspring. They had been bonding...he had felt it but with the comm call and her miscarriage, Nyota had shut him and must everyone else out.

 

“ Thou hast been avoiding me.” he huffs at her, lifting Nyota up like a stuffed animal from under her arms. Her head lolls forward along with her hair, the long strands of which brush against his face and torso. He turns slightly to take a whiff of her hair and sighs wistfully at the scent.

 

“ Would that you leave me altogether, human. I cannot have that.” he declares softly, putting her limp body down beside him. He takes a finger across her face and thoughtful moves it over her mouth. Nyota makes no beyond breathing against his hand from the part of her lips, still deep under the thrall of his nerve pinch. It’s disappointing that she does not kiss or at least huff in offense at his advance but what can be done?

Her increasing absence has driven Sybok to measures such as this. He’s not at all proud of it but he has a universe to rule.

 

All day as he works to clear his duties and meet with the council on the war, he searches his mind for where to find her. However, it is not an easy venture and easier said than done. As soon as he’s free to fetch her, he hones in only to find her lingering scent and absent presence.

 

Somehow, someway she’s been tracking him too and shadows his movements to counter his progress. “ You are much like her in this way. Full of mirth and fond of games.” he says cupping her breast. The soft mound flattens at his pawing and draws her nipple to a peak. Stiff and soft as it is, Sybok cannot resist it as he draws his hand away to replace it with his mouth.

 

Even through the fabric of her shift, he can taste the sweetness of her skin as he teases her nipples pert with his tongue’s attention. He has half a mind to move the collar of her nightgown over and suckle her teats proper. But...he knows himself well.

 

If he has her breasts...he won’t want to stop there. Already his lok is rigid within his trowsers and eagerly pressing at her thigh. He would suckle at her breast and her nether lips and plunder the latter until he fell prey to exhaustion. Miscarrying as she has, however, Nyota’s body won’t be ready for him or his seed for a while yet. Master Soval and the other Masters of medicine pressed him quite emphatically that intercourse with her fragile body now would do much more harm than good. “ Just a month or two to recover, Your Grace. She has been with fever and infection along with the rejection of the child.”

 

She has been so miserable at the news of all three, just a teary-eyed tugn’ot. He kisses her sweetly and butts his forehead against her. Call me monster if you will little human but I intend to have you enjoy every last moment of me as you accept my seed, he broods silently as he cupping her belly with his palm.

 

Soon...very soon he could relieve the itch that had plagued him for these many moons and take the lovely alien upon his cock just as he had with his previous mate. Only this time Sybok intends to have his seed take root. T’Vas was just coming into her years when they could have tried. T’Vas…

 

Sybok twirls a stray curl from Nyota’s braid around his finger and ponders his lost bondmate further.

 

After Spock was old enough to be any fun, his bondmate lost the ability to be so. T’Vas started in with her opinion. As if he cared for it. He would have asked if he did but she rarely ever waited that long. First it was his treatment of his brother, that he trained Spock too hard and was carrying on in ways that would harm his mental development. He had been born with a disability after all, best not to exacerbate it with drilling for warfare.

 

Soft-minded drivel is what it was. The Klingons didn’t give a fucking Krovill’s ass when he fought them after being freshly bled for his father’s health and they would not give two shits if Spock fucking felt sad or invalidated, if he could even be capable of feeling that at all.

 

Sybok had always admired that strength in his brother, the way he could go about slaying a territory without so much as a flinch in his reckoning. His brother had been born not with a disability but as a stronger version of his peoples. He did not have to fuck about with guilt or remorse because they never formed in the first place. In his supposed weakness, Spock had evolved beyond them. That is, until Nyota started poisoning his mind. She had ruined him, turned his brother against him. Just as T’Vas had tried with all her bout of alleged logic. It was emotions dressed up as reason is what they were.

 

Emotions were for the weak and if you felt them, they were to be controlled . Bondmates were like emotions in that way, Sybok thought, trying desperately to direct and guide his judgement. When T’Vas had been so bold to tell him that he was hurting Spock that was when Sybok found he didn’t much care for either bondmates or emotion.

 

He did as he was told by his father and what he felt like thereafter. Whatever Sybok saw fit to do with his brother, whether it was looting, raping or pillaging was his prerogative and his only. Sybok’s nose flares as he recall her fevered lividness burning at him through their bond. She loved him dearly but she absolutely hated his roving eye.

 

Ah yes, his dalliances has been a large stone to swallow for his beloved. The knowledge that she was not his first or only female, truly ruined them. Sybok found the hard way that love could turn to jealousy when it came to the fairer sex.

 

That he was bringing Spock along during his recreation did not seat well with her either. It was an unheard of perversion to share one’s mind with multiple lovers at a time. But they he had been tupping away at some fair thing while Spock had stolen away some deviant creature to break, sharing their minds as lovers would so one could enjoy the other’s sport. Sybok hadn’t thought twice when she had walked in on them but clearly she had. She had tried to deny him during his time, spurning him so he would go off to a plaything instead of her. That rejection coupled with her betrayal-

 

The scraping sound of his canines grinding against one another fill the air while the grip he has on Nyota tightens. Her muscles flinch reflexively and draw the scent of her center into the air. Sybok’s nostrils flare as the smell waves over him.

 

She no longer carries the sweet scent of growth and swelling or the spicy scent of his brother. It’s the earthy, delicate musk that he knows to be human female. She is recovering and ripening once more.

 

Sybok brings his nose against the long line of her neck and breathes deeply. He groans and pulls her closer, tugging at her shift. He should not have done that he thinks, sniffing her again with a pleased trilling purr. He should not have taken in her scent as deeply as he has. Nearly free of her brother’s scent and from that of pregnancy she smells so…

 

He palms her face with one hand and gives the free side a long, measured lick. So lush...everything about her is so winsome he finds her irresistible. The fingers at her face move to meld while the others plunge down between her folds. Taking her lips against his, Sybok moves to take what he can of her before the day he can sink his lok inside her.

 

Someday, little human, someday soon, he thinks.

----------------

 

His inner eyelids slowly slide open to clearly reveal the light dancing in front of him. The wick is down to the pot’s edge but remains strong and steady. Much like himself.

 

The Deltans have put up a good fight, churning out battalion after battalion to met with their forces. The effort has eaten away at what little reserves they have left. The lack of reinforcements further cuts into the Vulcans’ morale. Spock can hardly blame them.

 

His cunt of a brother has been biding his time in sending them anything useful. Their down to the bare bones of their rations and supplementing with anything they can pliage off of their offense fronts. Even now Spock has been in deep meditation to manipulate his metabolic systems.

 

If he can get on with less food and still fight, then it is all the better for his cousin. Spock could give two shits what the others think of him when it comes to the food he has sent up to his quarters but he won’t have Sasek going hungry. The tired royal deliberately leaves a good deal of it for him, feigning fullness only after the gnawing bite of his stomach has ceased knotting his insides.

 

It’s good to have Sasek at his best, Spock thinks as he picks up the sound of him eating the last of his meal. His cousin adores him even more than he fears him and is loyal to a fault. On a ship where none could be trusted, Spock relies on his squire as much as he does his telepathy.

 

He closes his eyes and focuses on the image of the flame within his memory. He slows his breathing and the edges of the vision begin to blur. Bit by bit only the flame remains as his sole focus, a white, hot light of the palest yellow and orange.

 

Bringing all his will forth Spock imagines the surrounding parting and snuffing it out. It hurts to strain so hard but he has to try, needs to know for sure.

 

He opens his eyes to the dark room and the hazy smoke of the extinguished flame filling the air. He rises with a smile and knows now that he’s ready.

 

Nyota’s warm face comes to his mind as he prepares to depart their ship. It was time to storm the place and claim it for the Empire for his last offense front.

 

In his thoughts Spock caresses the back of her long neck and promises himself that should he fight and live that he would reward himself with commandeering the ship and rushing back to her. He knows more than any his brother will see to trying to maroon him here. He would probably say some such rubbish like ‘ You must hold the system until the Empire’s strength has returned.’ or ‘ remain until you have established those loyal to us back in power.’.

 

Fuck the whole of that , Spock rebuts in his mind as he puts away his lamp. There would be no way he could do anything more beyond tonight if it didn’t bring him closer to his bondmate. Her face comes to him again and the long, imagined wishes of tupping her senseless while holding her by the neck have been replaced with longing wishes to sleep and meld beside her. The pair of them needed tenderness, rest; there would be time for fucking still.

 

Spock sighs at the bruises aching at his sides as he stretches. He would give this whole, sodding kingdom for the ability to rest. Not just anywhere but with her, down in Nyota’s slender arms, safely tucked against her bosom. The sweetness of their time within the K’ai tree groove has now turned bitter in the face of his pining.

 

What he wouldn’t give, who he wouldn’t see slain to have his head once again nestled in her lap and her small, cool fingers lacing themselves through his hair and send him purring in his sleep.

 

Nyota, his most beloved. At first cursed by him for her uncanny ability to make him swoon and later looked to as a warm haven of soft skin and devotion. To see her cry as she had on the comm, to feel her aching heart as his own, however vaguely, through their bond has left Spock reeling. The bitterness it leaves him with rises in the form of bile in his throat. She needs him as much as he needs her and he’s not there.

 

He’s so wrapped up with her that he can scarcely tell their yearning apart, not that he cares to summon the will to try. What is hers, Spock takes on as his own and he no longers wants to wish or pine or be a pawn to his brother. She was his and he would be back at her side.

 

No matter what it takes, the cost, the wreckage, Spock is resolved to get back to his human lover.

 

If he should have to lay the same amount of waste to the Deltan system as the Empire had reaped across the Klingons, which was nothing more than space and dust at present, to do so then so be it.

 

All who stand between us, Adun’a, will rue the day that they did so , he thinks sourly as he steps out and towards Sasek’s hunched form. He sits quietly at the table, stuffing food cubes into his mouth. The utensil shoveling food into his mouth is bent and crooked with use but the ship cannot afford to replicate new ones at present.

 

Their vessel was busy just trying to keep up with the demands of clean water, gravity and oxygen. It had been poorly stocked, in its hasty deployment to get Spock off planet and away from Nyota. No reinforcements had been sent to take up their charge or stock their cargo bays with much needed supplies. Just another thorn at his side as Sybok dug his dagger plan deeper. He means to have him perish here as one would a cur selhat out in the arena. What Sybok didn’t know is that the scent of his mate just beyond his reach would have him rabid and downing anyone that dared to get in his way. Even the four strongest Deltans in the system along with the whole of the Deltan palace guards.

 

Sasek looks up from his bowl and startles at the sight of Spock standing so quietly. He nearly chokes as he stumbles to get to his feet but a firm hand at his shoulder has him sitting back down. “ Ease, cousin. You have not yet finished your food.”

 

The squire’s eyes fall to the floor, avoiding the bowl at the table. “ It is your food, sire.”

 

Spock scoffs and neatly lifts a brow. “ It was your food as soon as you touched it. I don’t even eat after Nyota.” Though I do eat of her, delicious tart

 

Sasek nods and turns back to the food, unaware of Spock’s mooning and resumes eating. “ Thank you, Your Grace.”

 

Spock sits across from him and takes the dented cup of water from the other side of the table into his hand. “ Your Grace, is currently wanking off on his throne back on Vulcan.” Spock grouses, bringing the cup to his lips. The taste is wretched but refreshing nonetheless.

 

Sasek swallows the bite of food he was tending to and looks at him fondly. “ You are my true king, Your Grace.”

 

Spock bites back a purr of pleasure at his cousin’s admiration and strokes his hand with a small kiss of his fingers. “ Sasek, you are a charm.” he smiles impishly. “ Would that you were a female and I unbonded, that I wouldn’t have fucked you for that compliment.”

 

Sasek offers a weak smile at his humor and bawdy endearment before casting his eyes back towards his bowl. “ Such circumstances have never stopped your brother.”

 

Spock stills his fingers on his hand and searches his young cousin’s face. There’s nothing more than a faint blush and intense focus on his food but his mind speaks of the discomfort he so neatly hides away.

 

Spock exhales through his nose and knits their fingers, soothing what he can of Sasek’s anguish. The poor fellow merited none of Sybok’s cruelty but as it was Sybok liked pretty things and regularly made use of them. Sasek’s delicate features and slim frame fell easily into such a ranking.

 

The royal dalliances within the family was no secret in the court and for those who knew them outside of the palace it came as no real shock. If Spock were to bed Sasek as he jokingly suggested, his squire wouldn’t have been the first of his blood to share his body. That Sybok had actually done so doesn’t upset Spock either. It’s the feeling of violation rolling off of Sasek’s mind that has Spock suppressing a toothy snarl.

Sasek has always adored the pair of them and would have easily gone to either Prince if either had made an overture. Flashes of his memory however reveal an abuse of their intimacy by his brother’s hand, much more harshly than that of Spock’s time with forcing Nyota’s hand.

 

Sasek timidly curls his hand against the Prince’s rough hewn palm and takes his reflection in gratitude. “ You have always looked out for me, Spock.”

 

Spock snort and shakes his head diversely. “ I’ve been a twat, Sasek. In many ways I still am. Truly no better than my brother when it comes to my sword and mind and once many moons ago my lok.”

 

Spock rubs the back of his hand with the pads of his fingers and bends forward to capture his cousin’s gaze. “ Make me not an angel in your mind. What Sybok did to you I’ve done plenty times over. It is only the love of my bondmate that has me seeing the error of my ways. If it were not for her I have no doubt that I wouldn’t be buried in some hapless maid’s cunt now.”

 

Sasek tenses at the admission but relaxes as Spock bares his mind for inspection. It’s an intimate practice but one he does now to put his traumatized relative at ease. Sasek take as tentative look along the edges of his mind and shrinks away.

 

Spock knows he recognizes the power of it, of him but he brings his hands to the back of his head and brings their faces together. Sasek trembles under his inspection, shutting his eyes as Spock comes to butt their foreheads together. “ I shan’t rape any again. And though I suffer suppressing foul urges and my nature as it is, there is no true hungry behind the desire to force any again, only the comfort of the conditioned familiar. I want only her and I want her to want me just as madly.”

 

Sasek nods feebly and takes a shuddering breath. “ It is as I said my lord, you have in your own way looked out for me. I knew of your transgressions - perhaps not the full berth of them but...you are in your own way a good lord. I do not believe you have known any other way of being.”

 

Turning his head, Sasek meekly nuzzles his face and marks Spock with his scent. “ I swear on our name that I shall aid in bringing you back to your beloved. She has brought forth the Vulcan Prince I knew you always to be.”

 

Spock shifts his face catches Sasek’s ear with his teeth. With a careful nip he marks him back and draws away from him. “ Promise me this, cousin. If I die tonight, that you will take Nyota as your own. Sybok will ruin her if not kill her in some form or manner. Release her from the bond if she wishes but always care for her. She-”

 

Spock coughs at the emotion choking at his throat and tries again. “ She is- everything.”

 

Sasek nods solemnly and squeezes where their hands are still linked. “ It shall be done. Not that I shall need to do it. You shall be back soon I should think and no worse for wear.”

 

Spock untangles their fingers and begins to shed his clothes for his uniform. “ Oh? And you are so sure of this?”

 

Sasek nods as he hurries to help prepare him. Spock watches him in the reflective surface of the aluminum wall as he pulls on his blazer and goes about fastening the buttons. Sasek meets his gaze there and swallows hard. “ I am sure of it, Your Grace, because I know what I saw. I knew you to be powerful but what I saw of your mind…”

 

He swallows again and clutches the fabric of Spock’s jacket in his fists. “ What I saw of your mind left no doubt that you would be back. You, Spock, are terrifying.”

 

Spock’s mouth twists with a lopsided smirk back at his reflection on the wall. “ Now that is the best compliment you have paid me.”

 

The Crown Prince reaches and retrieves his sword and his bracers while dismissing the merriment of his face. Completely blank of expression, he tilts his head down towards Sasek and blinks slowly. “ Now it is time to show everyone else what you have seen today. Then to show my brother.”