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the Wrath of the Emperor

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The smell of exhaust and sulfur slithers in the air as the Wrath of the Emperor stalks to the edge of the titanous Dromund Kaas shipping docks. She pauses, eyes flickering from the greyish murky sky down to the coterie of the Sith Lord at the edge of the docks, making their way toward the Galactic cruiser poised for takeoff. It’s light’s flare the yellow of Tatooine sands and the steady hum of it’s core promises defeat for any ship foolish enough to attempt to catch the Imperial Everling through space. Now is the time for striking.


She had lured Darth Vulqa in and now, she would dispose of him.


With one mighty force leap, the Wrath landed before the party. Darth Vulqa stood tall, flanked by two apprentices and a half dozen imperial fodder. He smiled, the wrinkles around his bloody eyes crinkling.


“How nice of the Wrath to join us. Saves me the trouble of tracking you down. Apprentices, prove your worth.”


The female apprentice leapt forward while the Imperial guard opened fire. The Wrath fumed as she was forced to watch Darth Valqa grin smugly before striding to the Imperial Everling. She blocked a upcoming blow from the second apprentice and blasted the first one into a stack of crates. Within seconds, the guard was cut down and the second apprentice lay smoldering on the metal grates. Her fingers clenched around the heated lightsaber handle as she watched the Imperial Everling ascend toward the starless, coal sky. Malavai Quinn in the ship’s cell, once again, out of her reach.


As weak cough drew her attention to Darth Valqa’s first apprentice, the girl was sprawled across a crate of pipes. She moved without thinking, drawing the girl to her feet with a force choke vicious enough to leave a Mandalorian unconscious. The Wrath crossed the distance between them in an instance,


“Where is Darth Valqa destined?”

 

 

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The lights flashed crimson as the Wrath stalked through the ship hull, blood splatters from Darth Valqa’s lifeblood still warm on her beautiful face. A solid cell door came into view and the guards stationed there sagged to the floor before they even had a chance to fire their blasters. She inputted the master code and the door slid open quitely.


Quinn sagged against a steel chair in the center of the room, red smeared across his face. The light stationed directly above him casting his face in shadows. A simple loose white shirt had replaced his formal Imperial uniform and even from the door, the Wrath could see his hair was mussed. She crossed the room and touched his face.


He flinched.

Not raising his eyes from his lap, submissive. She could already see the dark bruises of a choke hold around his delicate neck. She gently brushed her fingers against his high cheekbone, just tracing around the edges of black eye. He dared a glance up,


“My Lord.” Surprise was evident in his voice. Light flashed in those dark eyes as he stared up at her,
“I didn’t- I didn’t think you would come.”


Rage flared within her, first that she had allowed him to be taken in the and second, that he had doubted her. He was a weakness and the Sith could smell weakness like a bog shark could smell blood.


“I’ll always come.” It was a oath if there ever was one.


She flicked her wrist and his blindings fell away. As he staggered up, she could see the bruises along his chest. The unusually loose collar of his shirt allowing her to look down and see wear he had been beaten. She assessed his injuries critically.
A black eye, split lip, finger-like bruises curling around his neck and whatever marks he had under his clothes. Furious resolution coursed through her: Everyone on this ship would die.

 

But first, she untied him and called for Broonmark. Quinn (and likely Broonmark) would hate it, but she gave the order for the Talz to escort Quinn to the medbay.

When Quinn was out of sight, the blistering red of her lightsaber ignited, casting the room in a hellish glow.

 

Walking to the opening terminal of her ship, the Wrath was greeted by Jaesa. The look in the former Jedi Padawan’s eyes suggested that she clean up, but Jaesa merely said that “Captain Quinn is recovering well.”

Out of all of the crew, Quinn got along best with her. She suspected it was because of Jaesa’s cool temperament and tendency toward professionalism. With the rest of crew, Quinn got along... less well.


Moving through the ship, she received a pad from Lt. Pierce on his latest Black Ops Mission and then headed straight to the medbay. Quinn sat on the bed, his face turned to the Droid, 2V-R8 treating him.


“My Lord!” Squawked 2V-R8, sounding surprised and as it rightened itself from where it has been bent over Quinn. He angled his body toward her, waiting for her next action.


“Report of the Captain’s injuries.”


“Oh yes! He has periorbital hematoma caused by force, bruised esophageal tissue from strangulation, three bruised ribs likely resulting from blunt trauma, and various mild bruising.

Overall,” chirped the Droid, “I estimate him making a full recovery in less then eight standard days!”


“You’re dismissed for the time being.” She said cooly, watching as the droid shuffled out of the door.


“Computer, lock Medbay door alpha.” She could feel the air ruffle her hair as the doors slid fluidly shut. She finally met Quinn’s eyes, he had been watching since she had entered.

There was a pause.


She moved without thinking, immediately crossing the distance to place her hand on his cheek.


“Malavai.” She said softly, her other hair running through his silky black hair. He leaned into her, his forehead pressing against her womb. He inhaled deeply.


“I had thought, perhaps, that you wouldn’t come; I estimated the success of you both finding and dispatching Lord Vaquas at a mere 21.8 percent.”


She laughed softly, a rare smile gracing her lush lips.


“When will you learn that statistics don’t define me.” They lapsed into silence, soaking in each other’s presence. She ran a protective hand over his muscled back. He was meticulous about his physic.


“I thought he might kill you - to get to me.” She whispered, wishing she could banish this unfamiliar feeling of fear within her. Quinn drew back and almost thoughtfully said,


“He considered it, but thought I would be more effect leverage alive.”


Her fingers tightened around the neck of his shirt as she stared down at him. His black eye was almost completely gone but the split lip and faint bruises around his neck remained.


She brought her lips to his, gently sucking on the swollen skin. He inhaled sharply, his hand tentatively drawing up to her back to pull her closer. The Sith Lord obliged and she slid into his firm lap, legs moving to either side of his waist. Their kissing deepened, no longer soft and hesitant but passionate and desperate.


The Wrath’s hand found its way to Quinn’s stomach where she caressed the hard muscles, eventually teasing his shirt up and he lifted his arms obligingly. He smiled as the fabric fell onto the bench beside them, a reverent shine in his dark eyes.


“I love you.”


She paused from where she had been peppering kisses to the bruises along his shoulders. Lifting her head to the corner of his ear,


“I love you too, Malavai.”