Wrath Of Faith
folder
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,414
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,414
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.
Worlds Apart
Title: Wrath of Faith
Author: FloweringWolfsbane and ArwenMGranger
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.
Also, I have to make a great apology to my cowriter, ArwenMGranger. I copy/paste the top of my fanfiction, and so when I forgot to include her name in the first chapter so too did it get missed off last chappie. Though she doesn’t actually write a great deal towards the fic, she organizes my ideas, and is invaluable.
Praetor is just another title bestowed upon Lydia/Tyran as a wedding gift. Forgive me the confusion.
Chapter 3: Worlds apart
Lydia adjusted the skirt of the dress she wore; carefully checking her hair was under the oddly perched hat. Tarkin watched her, amused at her flustered appearance
“It amazes me that you still wear this.” He plucked at the sleeve. “You are so much more than a mere general.” He reached to straighten the row of blue and red pips on her chest. “You are Sith, and should wear the outfit of one.”
She gazed forlornly at the model that kept her leathers in shape, some faceless doll in her exact dimensions.
“When I achieve the rank of Sith Master perhaps I will wear it all the time. Until then, I am content with my rank of general. Besides, it makes other uncomfortable when I appear in black; I will leave the petrifying to my father.”
She walked to the door and began the descent to the shipping bay, barely noticing his presence as if he was just her shadow. However, she paused, and twisted to face him, face shadowed.
“Would you permit me a few moments with my father? They have been few and far between of late.” He inclined his head and slowed his step, watching her hips swat as she walk. Devoid of her heels, her formidable height had declined, but still she remained at his level. Despite her reluctance to wear the colours of the Sith today, her twin lightsabres where bound to her waist.
Lydia boarded the ship, insisting the guards left her. Princess Leia had been escorted odd already, placed in a holding cell until her execution. Her father still remained inside the sealed chamber; she supposed it helped him heal the ongoing wounds from old times. The heavy mask he wore kept his breathing regulated, as did the numerous panels on his chest keep his vital organs functioning. Even here, several inches of durasteel between them, she could feel his pain, all over her body, pressure on her lungs. A hiss indicating Vader’s healing over, and so she fell down into a low bow, hearing his laboured breathe and footsteps as he approached her.
“I feel I have let you down, my child, returning without the plan.” His hand touched her shoulder; she looked up into his masked face, and smiled.
“It is not your fault the plans have escaped; we have the princess, she will lead us to them. And if she does not then she will die, and the senate will be free of another meddling counsellor. Have you an itinary of their consular ship? Perhaps there is something that has been overlooked.”
He passed her a thin metal interactive pad, and she scrolled quickly through it, walking slowly along the corridor, subconsciously following her father’s shadow.
“It’s good to see you again Lydia. It feels odd, now you are married, and no longer need me.”
“It is the same for me, father. It seems I have another master to serve and to please. I am not unhappy or badly treated, but it is difficult with so many different proprieties.”
“Indeed. Marriage is both a wonderful freedom and a tight restricting prison; as is any kind of love. You do please your masters, Lydia, never fear the displeasure of the Emperor; he has seen every eventuality, and everything happens for a reason.”
She paused; this fragment of information was unnerving, knowing everything she did had been premeditated, already seen by the Emperor, its outcome no surprise.
“Droids. There are two droids missing from the new list, but present on the former.”
“The sand troopers detected droid tracks; we traced them to a moisture farm, but found no trace. It was believed-“
“I have a feeling that when the droids are found, little Leia’s traitorous involvement with the Rebels will be made quite apparent.”
He looked at her, darkened lenses not dampening the intensity of the gaze that she fired upon him, unblinking and penetrating. She really was grown up; beautifully evil and forceful, all he’d ever wanted for her. And now almost fully a Sith Master. Indeed, it was a cause for celebration, but instead he found only sadness. The phase was over; she no longer needed him.
“Your instincts serve you well, Lydia. And now, is it not time to join the tedious debate?”
~~~
All fell silent as the Grand Moff Tarkin entered, followed by the Darth Lord Vader and last, the Lord Praetor Tarkin, dressed as one of the Imperial Navy. Motti sneered inwardly; she was a woman, and women had no place in this mans world of the Imperial Empire. She tried so hard to fit in, failing miserably by differing to wear a skirt. Tarkin’s whore, she was little else.
Despite this, he found himself wistful that he hadn’t picked her, eyes running appreciatively over curves and stretched cotton. She would not be nearly so disobedient if she was his; but then again, she had always had free reign, being the child of Vader. Even now, allowed to enter a room of official armed to the teeth. Seated beside Tarkin, a position well above her rank, she looked at the circle of men, a blank look upon her face.
Insolent bitch, as if she became a Praetor by skill. The only skill she needed was to be able to lie back and take it hard. Jealousy, perhaps, but General Motti himself was no more than a glorified soldier from an age where the Empire had no leaders, the old Republic guard dissenting away, and a general lack of experience. Any solder who led a successful campaign was decorated. He was embittered by the skilled young woman, and her marriage to Tarkin, and feared her sinister powers. They’d all seen her destroy Katern, rendering him effectively as a blank slate. What else could this glorified courtesan do?
“The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away” there were muted gasps as this was announced; Tarkin and his bride remained unmoved, Motti watched as Tagge, his opposite in the Triumvirate of the Death Star, reacted.
“That's impossible! How will the Emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?”
“The regional governors now have direct control over territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station.”
“And what of the Rebellion? If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it.”
His point was addressed by the daunting figure of Darth Vader behind Tarkin, unmoving and omnipresent.
“The plans you refer to will soon be back in our hands.”
The Praetor Tarkin looked around the table, amused at the individual reactions. Tagge had no shut up, his voice replaced by Motti.
“Any attack made by the Rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use
it!” The attention of everyone present was now focussed upon the two quarrelling bodies, and thought everyone was disturbed by the presence of Vader, were awed by Motti’s foolhardy.
“Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.”
“Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to find the Rebel's hidden fort...”
The praetor leaned forward, anger aroused at the fool’s words, but even as she considered her next move, Vader’s magic began to work. Being strangled, going pale white and then a shade of blue, Motti choked on the invisible Force.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
“Enough of this! Vader, release him!”
“As you wish.”
“This bickering is pointless. Lord Vader will provide us with the location of the Rebel fortress by the time this station is operational. We will then crush the Rebellion with one swift stroke.”
“Why are we wasting our time debating this in a committee?> we have their leader, or at least one of them. It is their round to play, their turn to react. Let us make use of Leia Organa; I am sure between all of us, we can work together to force the vixen into a corner.”
All eyes fell upon the Praetor as she announced this, carefully those who focussed their attention, the angry Motti glaring.
Author: FloweringWolfsbane and ArwenMGranger
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.
Also, I have to make a great apology to my cowriter, ArwenMGranger. I copy/paste the top of my fanfiction, and so when I forgot to include her name in the first chapter so too did it get missed off last chappie. Though she doesn’t actually write a great deal towards the fic, she organizes my ideas, and is invaluable.
Praetor is just another title bestowed upon Lydia/Tyran as a wedding gift. Forgive me the confusion.
Chapter 3: Worlds apart
Lydia adjusted the skirt of the dress she wore; carefully checking her hair was under the oddly perched hat. Tarkin watched her, amused at her flustered appearance
“It amazes me that you still wear this.” He plucked at the sleeve. “You are so much more than a mere general.” He reached to straighten the row of blue and red pips on her chest. “You are Sith, and should wear the outfit of one.”
She gazed forlornly at the model that kept her leathers in shape, some faceless doll in her exact dimensions.
“When I achieve the rank of Sith Master perhaps I will wear it all the time. Until then, I am content with my rank of general. Besides, it makes other uncomfortable when I appear in black; I will leave the petrifying to my father.”
She walked to the door and began the descent to the shipping bay, barely noticing his presence as if he was just her shadow. However, she paused, and twisted to face him, face shadowed.
“Would you permit me a few moments with my father? They have been few and far between of late.” He inclined his head and slowed his step, watching her hips swat as she walk. Devoid of her heels, her formidable height had declined, but still she remained at his level. Despite her reluctance to wear the colours of the Sith today, her twin lightsabres where bound to her waist.
Lydia boarded the ship, insisting the guards left her. Princess Leia had been escorted odd already, placed in a holding cell until her execution. Her father still remained inside the sealed chamber; she supposed it helped him heal the ongoing wounds from old times. The heavy mask he wore kept his breathing regulated, as did the numerous panels on his chest keep his vital organs functioning. Even here, several inches of durasteel between them, she could feel his pain, all over her body, pressure on her lungs. A hiss indicating Vader’s healing over, and so she fell down into a low bow, hearing his laboured breathe and footsteps as he approached her.
“I feel I have let you down, my child, returning without the plan.” His hand touched her shoulder; she looked up into his masked face, and smiled.
“It is not your fault the plans have escaped; we have the princess, she will lead us to them. And if she does not then she will die, and the senate will be free of another meddling counsellor. Have you an itinary of their consular ship? Perhaps there is something that has been overlooked.”
He passed her a thin metal interactive pad, and she scrolled quickly through it, walking slowly along the corridor, subconsciously following her father’s shadow.
“It’s good to see you again Lydia. It feels odd, now you are married, and no longer need me.”
“It is the same for me, father. It seems I have another master to serve and to please. I am not unhappy or badly treated, but it is difficult with so many different proprieties.”
“Indeed. Marriage is both a wonderful freedom and a tight restricting prison; as is any kind of love. You do please your masters, Lydia, never fear the displeasure of the Emperor; he has seen every eventuality, and everything happens for a reason.”
She paused; this fragment of information was unnerving, knowing everything she did had been premeditated, already seen by the Emperor, its outcome no surprise.
“Droids. There are two droids missing from the new list, but present on the former.”
“The sand troopers detected droid tracks; we traced them to a moisture farm, but found no trace. It was believed-“
“I have a feeling that when the droids are found, little Leia’s traitorous involvement with the Rebels will be made quite apparent.”
He looked at her, darkened lenses not dampening the intensity of the gaze that she fired upon him, unblinking and penetrating. She really was grown up; beautifully evil and forceful, all he’d ever wanted for her. And now almost fully a Sith Master. Indeed, it was a cause for celebration, but instead he found only sadness. The phase was over; she no longer needed him.
“Your instincts serve you well, Lydia. And now, is it not time to join the tedious debate?”
~~~
All fell silent as the Grand Moff Tarkin entered, followed by the Darth Lord Vader and last, the Lord Praetor Tarkin, dressed as one of the Imperial Navy. Motti sneered inwardly; she was a woman, and women had no place in this mans world of the Imperial Empire. She tried so hard to fit in, failing miserably by differing to wear a skirt. Tarkin’s whore, she was little else.
Despite this, he found himself wistful that he hadn’t picked her, eyes running appreciatively over curves and stretched cotton. She would not be nearly so disobedient if she was his; but then again, she had always had free reign, being the child of Vader. Even now, allowed to enter a room of official armed to the teeth. Seated beside Tarkin, a position well above her rank, she looked at the circle of men, a blank look upon her face.
Insolent bitch, as if she became a Praetor by skill. The only skill she needed was to be able to lie back and take it hard. Jealousy, perhaps, but General Motti himself was no more than a glorified soldier from an age where the Empire had no leaders, the old Republic guard dissenting away, and a general lack of experience. Any solder who led a successful campaign was decorated. He was embittered by the skilled young woman, and her marriage to Tarkin, and feared her sinister powers. They’d all seen her destroy Katern, rendering him effectively as a blank slate. What else could this glorified courtesan do?
“The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away” there were muted gasps as this was announced; Tarkin and his bride remained unmoved, Motti watched as Tagge, his opposite in the Triumvirate of the Death Star, reacted.
“That's impossible! How will the Emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?”
“The regional governors now have direct control over territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station.”
“And what of the Rebellion? If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it.”
His point was addressed by the daunting figure of Darth Vader behind Tarkin, unmoving and omnipresent.
“The plans you refer to will soon be back in our hands.”
The Praetor Tarkin looked around the table, amused at the individual reactions. Tagge had no shut up, his voice replaced by Motti.
“Any attack made by the Rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use
it!” The attention of everyone present was now focussed upon the two quarrelling bodies, and thought everyone was disturbed by the presence of Vader, were awed by Motti’s foolhardy.
“Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.”
“Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to find the Rebel's hidden fort...”
The praetor leaned forward, anger aroused at the fool’s words, but even as she considered her next move, Vader’s magic began to work. Being strangled, going pale white and then a shade of blue, Motti choked on the invisible Force.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
“Enough of this! Vader, release him!”
“As you wish.”
“This bickering is pointless. Lord Vader will provide us with the location of the Rebel fortress by the time this station is operational. We will then crush the Rebellion with one swift stroke.”
“Why are we wasting our time debating this in a committee?> we have their leader, or at least one of them. It is their round to play, their turn to react. Let us make use of Leia Organa; I am sure between all of us, we can work together to force the vixen into a corner.”
All eyes fell upon the Praetor as she announced this, carefully those who focussed their attention, the angry Motti glaring.