Wrath Of Faith
folder
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,413
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,413
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Depths of Character
Title: Wrath of Faith
Author: FloweringWolfsbane
Author’s Email: flowering_wolfsbane@hotmail.com
Current Rating: R
Summary: An heir is needed for the Empire, and so she was created for the purpose of knowing and serving only the Dark Side. A new character and a very different galaxy, far, far away…
Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas; I play only with his ideas. Please don’t sue!
Warnings: Strange couplings, NCS, headfuck…
Author’s Note: Something I always wanted to do, create a truly evil character in Star Wars, and another child of Vader. Enjoy.
Chapter Two: Depths of Character
It was Lydia who returned to their rooms that night, the witty, intelligent young woman that the Dark Side corrupted into Lord Tyran. Occasionally, glimpses of the person the daughter of Skywalker may have been did shine through, and Tarkin found it a pleasant change from Tyran’s cool cruelty.
He adored this woman, every flaw and strength, and never considered refusing her hand when it was offered, but at times he was wistful for Daala’s obedience to his whims, and his late wife’s disinterest in politics.
Tyran was bought up as a son would be, proud and strong, a warrior, shrewd, and a tactician, commanding the respect and admiration of all. Like her father she could make a whole room go cold in her presence, for fear of her and her sorceress ways.
Even her title, Lord Tyran, was that of a man, chosen at her ascension to ‘womanhood’ to make her equal to the men she would serve with throughout her life. Few called her lady now, any more than they called her Lydia.
That part of her was forced to obey the Dark Side, to be buried behind the brutality she needed to survive. Except tonight, from the smile on hr face to the casual way she had entered, removing her gloves and resting her hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing.
“You did well, my love. You impressed the council and doubtlessly the Emperor will hear of it also.” She smiled coyly at this, glowing with intense pride at Tarkin’s praise, that both her husband and her father had praised her.
“I am glad you are pleased with me.” She bowed carefully, in mock etiquette. “So, tell me; what else can I do to please you?” Her voice was full of suggestion, her coolness and sharpness quite gone. Tarkin smirked aloud, turning her hands over in his. The right palm was smooth and unmarred, the left, the lines distorted by the biotechnical implant she herself had inserted. Unhappy with the reaction time of her own ship, she created a direct mind interface between her and the internal computer in place of an R2 unit. Recent modifications to computer systems Empire-wide meant she could also find any information she want within milliseconds. She even had the ability to interact with the DeathStar to an extent. He was unsure whether to be disgusted by this or not, having treated her body in a way to a modern day Frankenstein. It was a testament to her genius, in both modifying and renovating engines to piloting, skills inherited and forced upon her obviously from her father, that she could have the insight to improve herself.
It unnerved him slightly that one day she would have the idea to surrender her entire body to cybernetics, destroying her from the essence.
He’d barely noticed her absence, so deep was he in reverie, but as she re-entered in her night gown, brush in hand, the emotions for her welled up. She sat, running the thick white bristles through her red hair, carefully untangling the knots. Usually it hung loose, easy to look after and simple, yet effective; she reminded him a demon when she moved, or a wraith….
And that was an analogy to how he felt for her, she was his demon, the embodiment of fierce passion and devotion, the things he should have forgotten long ago in his youth but even now, could not bear to move away from. She was effectively given to him to tame, ad tame her he would’ by subduing her he was subduing the undesirable part of himself.
The undesirable side crept into control now, he felt it slid into place as he sat behind her, taking the brush and being to comb he back.
“You’re incredibly forceful, when you’re angry, my lovely. You had us all a little concerned, a little….hot under the collar…” His voice was little more than a hiss, the hand on the brush warm and sticky, pulse raised high.
Lydia smiled. She knew what she did to him, how he reacted to her challenges of authority, and of course, the inevitable consequences of such events.
He made love in a similar way to how he conducted his warfare; once a challenge had been issued, he used every method to quell the insurrection.
She did not doubt his feelings; there was undeniable concern for her, affection, lust, but love? Lydia was certain Tarkin did not know how to, never had. The dark deeds of his life, the Doctrine of Fear, the annihilation of Despayres, and Commander Daala...
She felt jealousy hit her; Daala, the last of Tarkin’s lover, she had been pretty, blonde, with beautiful and a curvy figure. Compared to her, Lydia felt inadequate, her too-slim form, flat chest and muscular frame couldn’t compare to the natural femininity Daala wore so obviously. Lydia’s beauty was instead of the trappings bestowed upon her and of her grace in battle. And yet she did not mind Tarkin, despite his infidelity, she had respect and freedom, as opposed to the near-slavery he had every right to impose upon her as his wife. She turned now to face him, feeling his impatient yanks on her hair, smiling at his sudden loss of decorum.
“Such a fearsome foe, milady Lydia, how can you be sure you will not destroy yourself with your own flames?” She smiled, his fingers tracing her face, the feeling overwhelmingly sensual.
“That is why I have you, my husband, my support, my love…”
~~~
Lydia awoke two hours later, having slept for one, duties of marriage otherwise occupying her, to the sound of a small insistent beep. Moving out of Tarkins grip, she sat up, tying the cord of her dressing gown and pressing the button on her communicator.
“My lord, forgive our intrusion, but Lord Vader contacted us to inform you that they have taken the consular ship. The plans you have traced were not aboard; your father will be arriving within the hour, with Princess Leia Organa in tow.”
“Thank you, Genera Tagge, myself and the Grand Moff will be joining you soon.”
She cursed in anger, aggravated that once again her victory was bittersweet because of the Rebellion.
And now they had only a stubborn Princess as a lead, and an empty consular ship.
“Whatever has happened, Lydia, you seem…angered.” Tarkin had arisen, feeling the static of her emotions in his mind as he dreamt. She explained quickly, feeling resigned and drained her lack of sleep. Now she’d rested, the tiredness had hit her, knocking her into a state of slowness most unbecoming for a future Sith Master.
Author: FloweringWolfsbane
Author’s Email: flowering_wolfsbane@hotmail.com
Current Rating: R
Summary: An heir is needed for the Empire, and so she was created for the purpose of knowing and serving only the Dark Side. A new character and a very different galaxy, far, far away…
Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas; I play only with his ideas. Please don’t sue!
Warnings: Strange couplings, NCS, headfuck…
Author’s Note: Something I always wanted to do, create a truly evil character in Star Wars, and another child of Vader. Enjoy.
Chapter Two: Depths of Character
It was Lydia who returned to their rooms that night, the witty, intelligent young woman that the Dark Side corrupted into Lord Tyran. Occasionally, glimpses of the person the daughter of Skywalker may have been did shine through, and Tarkin found it a pleasant change from Tyran’s cool cruelty.
He adored this woman, every flaw and strength, and never considered refusing her hand when it was offered, but at times he was wistful for Daala’s obedience to his whims, and his late wife’s disinterest in politics.
Tyran was bought up as a son would be, proud and strong, a warrior, shrewd, and a tactician, commanding the respect and admiration of all. Like her father she could make a whole room go cold in her presence, for fear of her and her sorceress ways.
Even her title, Lord Tyran, was that of a man, chosen at her ascension to ‘womanhood’ to make her equal to the men she would serve with throughout her life. Few called her lady now, any more than they called her Lydia.
That part of her was forced to obey the Dark Side, to be buried behind the brutality she needed to survive. Except tonight, from the smile on hr face to the casual way she had entered, removing her gloves and resting her hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing.
“You did well, my love. You impressed the council and doubtlessly the Emperor will hear of it also.” She smiled coyly at this, glowing with intense pride at Tarkin’s praise, that both her husband and her father had praised her.
“I am glad you are pleased with me.” She bowed carefully, in mock etiquette. “So, tell me; what else can I do to please you?” Her voice was full of suggestion, her coolness and sharpness quite gone. Tarkin smirked aloud, turning her hands over in his. The right palm was smooth and unmarred, the left, the lines distorted by the biotechnical implant she herself had inserted. Unhappy with the reaction time of her own ship, she created a direct mind interface between her and the internal computer in place of an R2 unit. Recent modifications to computer systems Empire-wide meant she could also find any information she want within milliseconds. She even had the ability to interact with the DeathStar to an extent. He was unsure whether to be disgusted by this or not, having treated her body in a way to a modern day Frankenstein. It was a testament to her genius, in both modifying and renovating engines to piloting, skills inherited and forced upon her obviously from her father, that she could have the insight to improve herself.
It unnerved him slightly that one day she would have the idea to surrender her entire body to cybernetics, destroying her from the essence.
He’d barely noticed her absence, so deep was he in reverie, but as she re-entered in her night gown, brush in hand, the emotions for her welled up. She sat, running the thick white bristles through her red hair, carefully untangling the knots. Usually it hung loose, easy to look after and simple, yet effective; she reminded him a demon when she moved, or a wraith….
And that was an analogy to how he felt for her, she was his demon, the embodiment of fierce passion and devotion, the things he should have forgotten long ago in his youth but even now, could not bear to move away from. She was effectively given to him to tame, ad tame her he would’ by subduing her he was subduing the undesirable part of himself.
The undesirable side crept into control now, he felt it slid into place as he sat behind her, taking the brush and being to comb he back.
“You’re incredibly forceful, when you’re angry, my lovely. You had us all a little concerned, a little….hot under the collar…” His voice was little more than a hiss, the hand on the brush warm and sticky, pulse raised high.
Lydia smiled. She knew what she did to him, how he reacted to her challenges of authority, and of course, the inevitable consequences of such events.
He made love in a similar way to how he conducted his warfare; once a challenge had been issued, he used every method to quell the insurrection.
She did not doubt his feelings; there was undeniable concern for her, affection, lust, but love? Lydia was certain Tarkin did not know how to, never had. The dark deeds of his life, the Doctrine of Fear, the annihilation of Despayres, and Commander Daala...
She felt jealousy hit her; Daala, the last of Tarkin’s lover, she had been pretty, blonde, with beautiful and a curvy figure. Compared to her, Lydia felt inadequate, her too-slim form, flat chest and muscular frame couldn’t compare to the natural femininity Daala wore so obviously. Lydia’s beauty was instead of the trappings bestowed upon her and of her grace in battle. And yet she did not mind Tarkin, despite his infidelity, she had respect and freedom, as opposed to the near-slavery he had every right to impose upon her as his wife. She turned now to face him, feeling his impatient yanks on her hair, smiling at his sudden loss of decorum.
“Such a fearsome foe, milady Lydia, how can you be sure you will not destroy yourself with your own flames?” She smiled, his fingers tracing her face, the feeling overwhelmingly sensual.
“That is why I have you, my husband, my support, my love…”
~~~
Lydia awoke two hours later, having slept for one, duties of marriage otherwise occupying her, to the sound of a small insistent beep. Moving out of Tarkins grip, she sat up, tying the cord of her dressing gown and pressing the button on her communicator.
“My lord, forgive our intrusion, but Lord Vader contacted us to inform you that they have taken the consular ship. The plans you have traced were not aboard; your father will be arriving within the hour, with Princess Leia Organa in tow.”
“Thank you, Genera Tagge, myself and the Grand Moff will be joining you soon.”
She cursed in anger, aggravated that once again her victory was bittersweet because of the Rebellion.
And now they had only a stubborn Princess as a lead, and an empty consular ship.
“Whatever has happened, Lydia, you seem…angered.” Tarkin had arisen, feeling the static of her emotions in his mind as he dreamt. She explained quickly, feeling resigned and drained her lack of sleep. Now she’d rested, the tiredness had hit her, knocking her into a state of slowness most unbecoming for a future Sith Master.