An unlikely alliance. (Lala & Niksis)

[Niksis]

Terra, the center of the universe. At least that is how it is described by the Empire to it's people. Home to the Nova Roma, a galaxy spanding Empire shaped in the image of one of ancient earths most powerful and accomplished civilizations. A militant empire with a distinct caste system where only pure humans could hold office and to become a citizen you had to serve it's massive military machine. An empire where those not born of human parents were considered less and aliens even more so.

Each day, hundreds of Nova Romans died to expand the empire's borders and bring proper civilization to the uncultured savages that inhabited the galaxy. And today was no different for Marcus Arius, a renowned General and skilled tactician. His orders had been to present an ultimatum to the Vathurians of Vathura 5, a group of aliens who had rejected any attempts to be peacefully subjugated under the Empire's banner. Marcus was a man of honor, which in turn had seen him quickly rise through the ranks of the Empire's military arm. Now entrusted with the future of this backwater planet, or so it had been presented to him.

The war had been fierce and long, the Vathurians having put up more of a fight than any alien had any right to. So much so that this had been the bloodiest battle in all of his long campaigns. Having brough ten legions with him, ten legions of the Empire's finest. Now, after a few months of grueling campaigning, Marcus had less than four remaining, three and a half to be exact. A minor setback in the grand scheme of things, he had needed those legions to press his agenda back on Terra.

That morning in particular was a beautiful one. Sitting in his armored tent on a small cliff overlooking the capitol, his plasteel armor was reflecting the warm glow of the planet's two suns hanging low in the sky as Marcus looked through the reports coming in from what remained of his army. Reports on loses, remaining manpower, remaining hostiles and other equally boring information though information important for a prolonged campaign.

"My lord, the filthy Aliens have surrendered. The king himself having stepped down as per your ultimatum, ready to accept the Empires vision for his people." The voice came from a man standing behind the General, one of his lieutenants reporting and giving voice to information Marcus already had, though he welcomed the break in silence the man presented.

"Good, good." Marcus replied as he pushed the chair back he was sitting in and rose to stand with an audible groan. He wasn't young, not like he had once been. Decades of war had taken its toll on his form, making him age quicker than he'd like. Turning to face his second in command, Marcus carefully adjusted his armor so it sat just perfectly, an ornate piece of equipment that protected his aging but still hardened form. Pushing into his early to mid thirties, his was a colorful life, devoted to the idea of Nova Roma.

"Come then, let us address these Vathurians. Have the men gather what remains of their ruling body and present to them the direction put forward by the Senate." Marcus reached for his ceremonial sword, a relic of a time long past though it still remained a symbol of his rank and status. Sheathing it carefully before making his way outside

"What will you do in the meantime, my lord?" The man asked in turn, curiosity plastered on his features though with no less respect. He knew his orders and had no intention of not carrying them out, though curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"I will walk the streets, Flavius. Look upon these poor souls who thought themselves able to withstand the might of the Empire." Having given his orders, Marcus left his tent and made his way down the cliff and entered the city proper, curious to see what sight might meet him. He wasn't ready to openly admit it, no alien had the strength to stand against Nova Roma, but these people, these aliens had fought so fiercely they, at the very least, had earned his respect.

 

[Lala]

Gemma Mariana had known the outcome the moment the battle cruisers of Nova Roma had appeared in the sky. Huge, dark shapes dotting the heavens like giant raptors circling over scattering prey. Vathura had long escaped the Nova Roman's ever-tightening grip on the galaxy, but it had only been a matter of time before their eyes turned to the forest-covered planet that was the last to fall on a coveted trading route through this corridor. Not much was crafted of wood these days, but several of the Vathurian hardwoods were renowned throughout the galaxy. Lush incenses from the shuquien trees graced many a temple on several worlds, and the lornaster cedar yielded hardy and fragrant wood prized for the creation of chests and jewelry boxes.

But the Empire didn't care about that, nor about their elegant culture, Gemma thought bitterly. She stood at a window despite the protests of her mother and the other ladies of the court, drawing back a curtain delicately to watch as the invaders razed the city and cut through their troops. Vathurians could be a formidable enemy. Not only because they were such fierce warriors when pushed to it, but also because they possessed certain abilities the Empire was unaware of. It can be hard to pin down an enemy that can read one's thoughts, after all.

She was sequestered in a small area of the palace along with the other noble families. Her father was a duke who had several large landholdings -- likely all gone now -- and was an advisor to the king. They'd heard nothing from him since the fighting began, and she feared he had been killed. Slender fingers curled around the thin dagger he'd pressed into her hands before leaving them for battle. She had it hidden in the bell-shaped sleeve of her voluminous purple gown, ready to strike to the heart of her enemies if given half a chance.

The others cowered in fear, but not Gemma. She had never been allowed to enter training with the menfolk, but her father knew he would not be able to protect her forever and had taught her to defend herself in secret. He worried not only of the inevitable descent of the Nova Romans upon their world, but also other untold dangers. Gemma was beautiful even for a Vathurian, and had drawn eyes to her for many years even before she came of age for a suitor.

Most of her kind had dark red or even fuchsia-colored flesh, but hers was a shy pink -- like the first blush of dawn. A thick tumble of lilac-colored hair fell down her back in waves when unpinned, though right now it was coiled extravagantly upon her head, woven with gold bands and pearls with small tendrils escaping around her temples. Her eyes were a light blue, framed with thick lashes and highlighted by the generous sweep of cosmetics that made them almost look catlike. And her features themselves were delicate, though her jaw was often set in a stubborn, unyielding manner that seemed at odds with her elfin beauty.

The door to the sanctum creaked open and everyone jumped with a gasp. Gemma turned slowly from the window, eyes narrowing upon the Senator accompanied by several of the invaders. "King Zephali has surrendered. You're to be spared if you cooperate. Please, come outside," he said with a sweep of his hand. He tried to sound calm, but Gemma heard the warble in his voice and saw him darting worried glances to soldiers flanking him.

Her fingers walked over her hidden blade again. She was no fool; she knew she couldn't singlehandedly change things now. But if she could just stick one of them, it would be worth it. She'd rather die than serve them. Because she wasn't fooled by this promise of being spared, just as she knew no one else was either. These soldiers had unguarded minds, and she already caught snippets of them thinking about what they wanted to do to the women. They planned to take them as slaves, like they were beneath them. And the thoughts turned even more lurid as Gemma walked past. It was all she could take.

She let out a snarl and leaped at the nearest soldier, who was entertaining a very lewd thought about her indeed, bringing her hidden dagger out with a flash. Frantic shouts filled the air, none so loud as her mother's. The soldier jumped back with a yell just before her blade connected with the chink in his armor between his neck and shoulder. Immediately, four pairs of strong hands were on her, wrestling her to the ground as she screamed and kicked. She heard the sound of a blaster clearing a sheath and closed her eyes. This was it. Foolish girl, you just wasted your life for nothing.

"Hold. Don't kill her yet. The General is touring the streets right now. Let him decide what to do with her," one said.

They hauled her up, ferrying the struggling Vathurian lady outside to meet whatever fate it was their leader decided.

 

[Niksis]

That morning had been a beautiful morning in deed Marcus thought to himself as he walked down what might have been the main street of the capitol. He honestly didn't know, nor really cared all that much when all was said and done. Around him the sounds of struggle echoed throughout the alleyways and streets. Signs of what little opposition might remain alongside the futile struggles of Vathurians furiously trying to prevent the Nova Romans the spoils they were entitled to. Most of whom seemed content with anything shiny or what might be traded into something shiny. Though some of them were interested in more... primal desires when it came to the spoils of war.

Stopping near an overturned cart, the General knelt down next to it and allowed his gloved hands to rummage through what the cart might have carried. A curious gesture more than that of a man searching for something. He hadn't told anyone, however one of the reasons he so enjoyed going on these campaigns was to meet new civilizations, new customs, new impressions. Sure they were filthy, uncultured Aliens not even fit to serve in the military, let alone aspire to be citizens. But to him, to Marcus, even the most uncultured civilization had something to teach the Nova Romans.

As he picked up a small wooden box ornately carved and even more so decorated, a small smile formed on the aging general's lips. Even in chaos and war, beauty seemed to find it's way. Brushing some dirt and ashes off the little box, he studied it closely, every little fine cut and perfect imperfection it might hold. Drowning out the chaos around him and instead focused on the moment he was. A reverie he was pulled out of by a legionnaire who had been running up the street, if his breathing was anything to judge of.

"Speak, soldier." Marcus said as he gently put the small wooden jewelry box aside and rose to his feet. Standing taller than most around him, Marcus held an impressive figure despite his age. Raven black strands with small splashes of grey swept back reaching his neck and a neatly trimmed beard with the same small spots of grey in them decorated his aging features. His eyes a cold, steely blue which stood out from the rest of his darkened features. From his sun kissed skin to the dark hair of his beard and hair, the blues were often the first people noticed.

"My lord, there's a situation that requires your attention. One of the locals have been... Unruly, sir. Judging from the company she kept, I reckon she is some kind of noble. We thought it best you decide her fate." The man replied as he took off his helmet and held it under his arm, meeting the Generals gaze only for a moment before casting his eyes downwards. Most found those steely blues intimidating to look at.

Nodding at the soldier's words, Marcus patted him on the back and walked down the street from where the man had come running from. Curious to see what sort of trouble required his presence.

Nearing the house the senator had gone to visit, he saw the scene unfolding in the streets. Several heavily armed legionnaires pinning a lone Vathurian to the ground as if she was the most dangerous being around. It looked off to Marcus, she seemed so fragile and helpless compared to the others, though he knew something must have happened to warrant this sort of behavior from his men.

Stopping next to the pinned woman, Marcus removed his helmet once more and held it under an arm as a hand came up to sweep through his hair, fixing it to be as presentable as he could be before he looked down at her with that piercing gaze of his. Silently at first, he studied her every feature. He had seen Vathurians in his time here, however this one stood out amongst the rest with the color of her skin. One might even be so bold as to claim she looked beautiful, for an alien of course, not that he was about to admit that to the others. She was an alien after all.

Eventually, he broke his silence and lowered himself just enough to place his gloved hand on her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his "Tell me, Vathurian. Do you not prefer peace over war?" his tone was powerful and clear despite speaking in a low almost calmed tone. "Peace has found your people now, under the rule of Nova Roma. Why would you threaten that peace with your actions?" he continued to ask, keeping a calm voice on his lips as he did.

As he kept her in his grip, he continued to study her. Every little feature upon what he considered a beautiful face. He didn't show much in the way of hostility. Not in his voice nor in his mind. He did not hate the Vathurians, he did not harbor some ill will towards them. They were but a people who were offered the peace of the empire and refused, now they had to be conquered, nothing more. Something told him that in a few months, he'd forget all about the Vathurians as he was probably too busy fighting another alien race somewhere.

 

[Lala]

One of the men holding her down, either by accident or on purpose, ran a hand up her side. She did not take well to that, renewing her efforts at a struggle until she tired herself out after a few minutes. The soldiers laughed and wiggled their fingers in biting range just to bait her. But she wasn't foolish enough to take that bait. If she attacked now, in any fashion, they'd have more than enough reason to kill her even before this general passed his judgment.

She heard the heavy tread of boots and looked up through now-disheveled hair falling over her eyes. She was on her back, arms and legs held down and torso managed by the soldiers half-sitting on her. Swaths of rich fabric swirled around her like silken water coursing down a drain, her dress askew and dirtied from the scuffle. Her cheeks were a violent cherry, stirred with fury and not timidness. This must be their general, she supposed, both by the way they acted outright and the strictly drilled thoughts that passed through their minds about decorum when presented with a superior officer.

A handsome, rugged man peered down at her. His blues were more iron and blood than hers; hard, shrewd eyes. But he seemed to be watching her now with a rather morbid curiosity. She'd settled for the time, her chest heaving where her bosom swelled above the bodice of the gown. Her eyes went immediately to the sword he had strapped at his waist, not skilled enough in such deceptions to make it look like she was doing anything else. Yet he seemed strong under that armor, and there were so many other soldiers about. It would be a foolish and painful suicide to try anything now.

Her lips pressed to a thin line when he dared to grasp her chin, turning her attention up to him. The soldiers maintained their hold on her with their general so close to this unpredictable Vathurian. Her nostrils flared. She resisted the urge to spit in his face, self-preservation once again just barely winning out over her instinctive temper.

Her voice was not nearly as calm as his, though pleasantly smoky perhaps when she wasn't so angry. "We had peace. You brought war. We don't want your rule. And we don't want your odd customs polluting the glory of Vathura!" she said, giving another wild buck of her body to try to throw at least one of the men off her. Her delicate flesh felt bruised and hot where they grabbed her, her pulse screaming against their strong hands.

"Let me go!" she hissed, kicking out hard enough to dislodge one of the men. She wrenched her chin from the general's grasp, taking advantage of the little reprieve to try to roll out from under the rest of them. They struggled to once again subdue her without hurting her, though this time around they took a bit more aggressive tack, pressing her face down into the dirt and literally sitting atop her body to pin her down.

"General? Uh, what...what should we do with her?" one asked.

 

[Niksis]

Marcus continued to study the alien closely, a hint of admiration, betrayed by his thoughts, crept unto his features as he did. To fight back, even in the face of defeat, not to mention the odds she was against. While foolish and stupid, it was brave too. He could admire that, courage in defeat coupled with a mind smart enough to tiptoe the fine balance between bravery and stupidity. A quality, he thought to himself, unique to this one in particular or the race as a whole?

"Sir?" the soldier repeated upon not getting a response from the General, uncertainty spreading amongst the men while one in particular was still entertaining extremely lewd and improper thoughts of the pinned woman. Marcus' intentions with the girl was betrayed by his mind long before his tongue did. A life of servitude and shackles. Until either she had proven her worth and be granted freedom, or until her dying breath. He didn't know much about the woman, didn't know what use she'd be to him if any. Was she just another stuck up noblewoman who had no skills other than to socialize and look down upon the commoners. Or did she hide something else behind her beautiful and exotic exterior.

None of the Nova Romans knew of the aliens ability to read minds and emotions, no one had told them and why would they? Besides, even if they did learn of it, how would one shield their minds from such powers? While Marcus was contemplating the use of this girl; her various uses going through his mind while still somewhat undecided about her fate, she'd most likely be able to read all of it, if she wanted. She was beautiful, even he could not deny that. So the thought of a pleasure slave did cross his mind, at least if she had no other uses. His words, however, gave little away when he spoke again.

"Take her to my tent, I will deal with her later. And keep an eye on her." his firm voice said, resulting in a crisp salute coming from the legionnaires who weren't currently busy pinning her to the ground. "And what of the others, my lord?" one of them asked, motioning to the other Vathurians who, in comparison to the wild one, had remained somewhat calm or at least quiet through it all.

He turned to face them, and once more, his mind betraying his intention well before his words did as he looked down at the girl again for a moment. "Let this act as a warning of what happens when you cross The Empire." he spoke directly to her, though she by now would most likely already know his intention before he looked over at his men again "Take them to the main plaza and execute them publicly as dissidents and troublemakers. Make sure the word is spread. There will be no mercy for troublemakers."

The men nodded and gave another crisp salute at the General's orders before going about the grim business of their task. While Marcus himself gave a subtle glance towards the pink alien on the ground before resuming his tour of the war torn streets, curiosity still guiding his steps though his mind occupied by a most fascinating alien.

 

[Lala]

Gemma turned those cool blues up to regard the general. His mind was interesting. He seemed to be repulsed and intrigued by her at the same time, though his thoughts were a bit more locked up than some others of his men. It spoke of discipline and strength, sharpness in protecting against a threat he didn't even realize was all around him. She despised him a bit less for it, as opposed to his tactless men whose minds were a lewd amalgam of base thoughts and intents.

There were ways, of course, to shield stray thoughts from those of her kind, but why would she tell him? One of the reasons they'd done so well in the battle was this hidden skill, and she half-hoped there was enough of a resistance still at large to give the Empire a headache for years to come. Her jaw tightened a bit when his thoughts turned to enslaving her, especially considering the uses he supposed for her. Outwardly, it would look like she was just tipping her chin up and hardening her gaze in response to the situation at hand. But she was seething at the intentions that lay just beneath the surface.

As he gave his orders, the multiple soldiers manhandling her hauled her to her feet. She wasn't about to go quietly, kicking out and wrenching her arm away until they clamped down a firm enough grip on her wrists that she cried out.

The other Vathurians began wailing a moment before the general spoke. They too had read his intents and knew what fate he had in mind for them. Her attention shot directly to her mother. The aging duchess had her head down, hands clasped before her. She was strong like her daughter, but in different ways. Her complexion was on the paler side as well, though not nearly as fair as Gemma, and strands of white wove delicately through her magenta hair. After a moment, she raised her chin to meet her fate with her head held high, sending her daughter thoughts of peace and love.

"Stop!" Gemma yelled after the general when he turned away from them. How could a man give such an order and then stroll off like he was enjoying a morning constitutional? "Yes, you! General!" She was twisting and turning so much the soldiers nearly had to lift her from the ground to wrangle her. "Spare them! They did nothing. This can't be how you conduct yourselves. I've always heard the Empire was magnificent, a marvel. This is...this is barbaric." The word might sting. She knew it was how the Nova Romans looked at other races besides their own. Hopefully it was enough to make him want to separate himself from that notion.

"Show them mercy, and I will not resist your intentions," she said, leveling those gleaming eyes on him. "And I can help you in ways you can't even imagine." She wouldn't say out in the open exactly how she could help him, but certainly she had heard of the intrigues of the Nova Roman Senate. Surely he was caught up in such machinations and having a telepath on his side would be a great boon.

 

[Niksis]

The man stopped mid-step upon hearing the woman's words. Brave one indeed he thought to himself, as she once again spoke directly to him. Of course his men were less impressed at her display of defiance. Having just had her life spared only to then risk it moments later. While Gemma continued to speak, explaining her desire to have those around her spared, one of the men manhandling her struck her hard with the back of his hand to silence her. "Be quiet, alien!" he shouted at her not even making a token attempt at hiding his disdain or rather, outright hatred towards lesser races.

As the general stood there, back still turned to all the commotion behind him, a few thoughts raced through his mind. These were a strong race, he had to admit. They had put up more of a fight than they had expected; than the Vathurians had any right to. And clearly, these people behind him were important, even he knew this without having been introduced. And judging from how hard this one alien was willing to fight for them, she might be of use to him.

Again, unknowingly, his mind betrayed what his words didn't as the general turned to face the group again. This time, however, with a bright smile on his lips "There is a truth to your words, alien." he started in that powerful but calm tone of his. While watching her closely, staring at her with his piercing gaze, Marcus folded his hands behind his back and walked towards her again. She knew, most likely, what he intended well before his words told her. A trade, her obedience and loyalty for their lives. Of course he had not said as much yet, but she'd know.

Nearing the restrained woman, Gemma, Marcus reached out with his gloved hand once more and gently brushed a stray strand of lilac colored hair back behind her ear. "I will spare these people you care for so much, alien. So long as you obey and behave." he explained, staring into her eyes while doing it. "In return, they will spend their every waking moment to keep the peace here on this planet." Marcus continued when he broke his gaze on Gemma and looked to the group behind her "With every raport that comes past my desk of Vathurian rebels and dissidents, she will suffer. A fair trade, a cultured trade, don't you agree?" he turned his attention back to Gemma finally and betrayed the subtlest of grins on his otherwise stoic features.

Marcus remained there, watching her with a gloved hand on her cheek. He would allow her to respond, curious to hear if she'd agree and if she did, how she'd word it. So he waited, waiting for her to reply whether it was verbally or through her actions; he could tell a no when he saw one.

 

[Lala]

Gemma knew that she was likely making a grave misstep. After all, what did she know about the man, and the Nova Romans in general, other than they were bent on cutting a swath of conquest through the entire galaxy? This handful of nobles from an already conquered world was worthless, beyond worthless, to men like him. Her tongue had gotten her into trouble before. She could only hope that here, offering him something he might not find anywhere else, she would be able to change his mind.

Her thoughts and worries were terminated at once, when the soldier holding her brought a hand up and struck her. A soft cry fell from her lips and tears brimmed her eyes. Pain seared immediately, radiating out from her backhanded cheek that was turning a much darker pink now where he'd hit. He dared strike her? Her immediate instinct was to spit on him, but her inner voice was quite busy today keeping her from making fatal mistakes. She merely bit down on her swollen lip to stifle her response, eyes burning into the general's back.

Her breath left her in a slow, relieved exhale when he did finally turn around. That was a start, at least. He had heard her pleas and hadn't dismissed them at once. This was something she could work with. And the fact that his mind was a bit more open than these others was a positive sign. It might take some doing, but she could be very persuasive when she put her mind to it. She'd almost laugh if her cheek didn't sting so much, remembering how she'd convinced her father to let her learn some of the ways of fighting men despite her mother's protests. She'd mastered the art of clamping her mind down so others couldn't read her very early in life, so she developed quite a skill at being convincing.

This man, however, didn't know that trick yet. And her scowl deepened when he approached her with the offer he had in mind congealing in vivid detail. Her eyes met his steely blues, chin tipped up with noble defiance she wouldn't let them smack out of her. He was indeed crafty, turning her plea on its head to use her friends and family against her and she against them. Still, this was the only way. Her heart screamed in her chest to throw it back in his face, to leap for whatever weapon she could and end this one way or another. Her gaze swept slyly around to the other soldiers. There were more of them now, perhaps lured by the shouts and the palpable energy of a conflict that settled in the dusty air. This was the only way.

She willed herself not to flinch when he placed his glove upon her cheek, even more so since it still burned from the strike. In contrast to his superior grin, her expression was dour. She found no pleasure in this, making this choice because it was the only one. "Very well. I will accept this bargain, as long as I have your word they'll come to no harm." And, because technically the deal hadn't begun just yet, she added sharply, "And my name is Gemma, not 'alien.'"

 

[Niksis]

Marcus continued to study the brave alien before him, equal parts fascinated and intrigued by her and her kind. Gemma, as she had introduced herself to him, a name which lured a subtle little smile forth and onto his lips. A beautiful name, he'd admit, fitting too, for the woman who carried it. If only he knew of her and her kinds abilities, he might be more careful with his thoughts. As it was, while he didn't say it out loud, he did a poor job of hiding what he didn't know he had to hide. An open book, at least to those who cared to read him, stark contrast to the otherwise stoic General everyone else knew.

With his hand still on her cheek, holding the gentlest of caresses, he shifted it down and gripped her chin ever so lightly between his fingers. Meeting her gaze and staring back with equal intensity, like an unspoken war of who'd flinch and look away first. "Your name will be whatever I decide for it to be, Gemma." the man started in that authoritative voice of his before continuing "And you will find that I am a man of my word. But know that goes both ways, should you betray our agreement." Marcus finished, still without breaking his intensive, steely gaze on Gemma's.

She had a fire in her, he could tell. Even without knowing her for more than a few minutes, he knew she'd be trouble to keep around. A challenge, he thought, Marcus' did so love seemingly impossible challenges. Besides, she had hinted that she'd make a great ally and curiosity demanded he'd at least test her word on that. Though he was skeptical, at least on the surface, about her uses. She didn't seem like she'd make for much of a fighter, so bodyguard seemed out of the way. She didn't know the laws of Nova Roma, so clerk didn't seem obvious either. Her exotic looks and, if she learned how to bite her tongue, lovely voice would suit her perfectly at his parties and gatherings. Though even that was a gamble, beautiful or not, she was an Alien still. Without breaking from his gaze, Marcus addressed one of the soldiers who was still holding Gemma down. "Release the nobles and send word to Terra. The planet is now under our control."

The soldier let go of Gemma and gave another crisp, disciplined salute before turning to face the nobles and set about his orders. With the aid of a few men nearby, the nobles; here included one that looked eerily familiar to Gemma, was led away from the small gathering that had now formed. A few stray thoughts of lewd behavior from the men slipped them before they were replaced with an unwavering discipline. They were a rowdy bunch, prone to 'vile' acts of debauchery. Especially against defeated foes. However their training and loyalty; and perhaps fear or respect towards their superiors weighed more on their mind, as such, any thoughts of going against the General's orders was suppressed or outright thrown from mind. At least for the near future.

Turning his attention back to Gemma, Marcus finally released his gentle grip at her chin and instead moved to run his gloved hand through her beautiful, lilac-colored hair; continuing to invade her private space as he did so. "Kneel before me and address me as dominus then. And let that be what seals our agreement. Your freedom for theirs. Your life for the life of your people." he finished before giving a nod, signalling for the men who held Gemma to release her.

 

[Lala]

She was perhaps emboldened by the thoughts he was transmitting, thoughts that betrayed his innermost secrets and the fact that he was not repulsed by her. Quite the opposite, in fact. She would happily use this information in the future, though she was not quite sure just yet how much freedom she would have. But she met that gaze of his, remained unflinching as he stroked her cheek. The only time she revealed her colors was when he had the audacity to suggest he would decide on a new name for her. Her chest heaved with a deep, slow breath and her lips pulled to a tight bow.

"I will respect our agreement as long as you do," she said slowly, giving an elegant tip of her chin that pulled her delicate face from his grasp. At least, momentarily. He replaced it at once.

Some of it was bravado, some of it true fire. She just wanted her mother and the other nobles safe. After that, when they were tucked back into their homes, probably on lockdown but still home, she would breathe much easier. A slight smile tipped up the corners of her full pout as he traced through possible positions for her. His was a very visual mind. Sometimes, she got more words than anything. But with him, it was all pictures. She saw herself suited up in leather and armor, fiercely defending his private chambers. Sitting behind a desk looking bored, with floor-to-ceiling databanks behind her in the clerk's office. These all flitted in quickly, but the one that stayed was of her draped in a gauzy gown that plunged to her navel, revealing greats tracts of cleavage and toned stomach, twinkling with thousands of crystals as she smiled and charmed others wearing dress uniforms in some grand ballroom. The visions dissolved when he broke his gaze.

She sent her mother a heartfelt goodbye. Though she'd be safe, she likely would never see her again. The elder Mariana nodded and gave her a brief smile, sending back flashes of memories from her childhood, some small moments she scarcely remembered. Warmth spread through her. This was another of their gifts of the mind: the ability to share emotion through a bond. This was goodbye for her too, but she ended the intricate message with a word that nearly broke Gemma's stoic expression: Proud. And then she was gone as the soldiers led them off.

No matter what happened to her, what this general planned, how far she was taken from here...she had made the sacrifice for her people. And that was worth everything. She stayed blank-faced as the general slid a hand into her silken locks, though the mask slipped once more when he made his request for her to bow down to him. The Marianas were a proud, noble family and she had never bowed to any in her life. It would be a difficult maneuver, to say the least.

Once the soldiers released her, she straightened her shoulders in indignance and fussed with her gown until it flowed straight and tidy. Her hands fluttered into her hair, pinning the soft pastel tendrils back into place fastidiously. She stalled as long as she reasonably could before he'd get antsy. Then, she slowly dipped her knees in a low curtsy, gathering the edges of her dress in slender fingers.

"Dominus," she choked out.

 

[Niksis]

He was quick to correct and even faster with the discipline. He was, as he had said, a man of his word. She had all but pleaded for the lives of her friends and family. Swapped her freedom for theirs in what Marcus considered a fair exchange. And not even a minute into her new life, she is already testing the man. Looking back later, Marcus might admire her for that action, he was a practical man who valued honor and strength after all. However in the moment, he was less than pleased, and even that was an understatement. Her refusal to kneel, a seemingly simple gesture though one that held unfathomable amounts of meaning behind it, most importantly the sign of utter surrender, despite having willingly accepted the bargain tested the General's patience.

Quick to respond, Marcus addressed one of the men behind him while still watching the alien, Gemma. "Legionnaire, send word to the unit that is escorting the nobles. Have them execute one of them of their choosing for this alien's disobedience." he commanded firmly to the man behind him still without breaking his hard stare on Gemma. "Unless you learn to obey, as we agreed upon. I hate repeating myself but I'm going to give you another chance. Kneel." he said, pointing to the ground in front of him with that gloved hand of his, "and address me as Dominus, your owner and master."

The legionnaire behind him waited patiently, ready and almost eager to give the command for one of the nobles to be executed. Unlike Marcus, who was a more practical and fair man, this man took palpable pleasure in seeing these aliens suffer and be put in their place. His mind betraying as much though one wouldn't need to read minds to learn of this as the look he gave Gemma upon being told to kneel told enough; a wide, wolfish grin.

Around them the sounds of a dying war continued, pockets of resistance fighting back against an overwhelming enemy. Sure, the Vathurians had fought hard and well, very well indeed, however the sheer number of technologically advanced warriors of Nova Roma, coupled with their military discipline meant that eventually, be it days, months or years, any foe would fall. Aircrafts zoom over above them, still hunting down whatever remained of the Vathurian air force while ground troops was still securing one building after the other.

Their royal family had surrendered and the war was over, however despite this the war continued, like a fire's dying embers. Word was still being passed down from up high to the men on the ground and it would probably take another couple of hours for all fighting save the odd skirmish to finally be over. Not that this bothered the general as he stood there, seemingly more concerned with the woman before him, this Gemma's misstep than the sounds of battle around him. Of course, it helped to know that most of his fighting force was in the vicinity, veteran or not, he was still the general and as such, never really just strolled through the town without the men knowing, able to intercept and aid at a moments notice.

Whether she would continue to be defiant, which would result in his command going through, or whether she'd take a hit to her pride for the sake of her family and friends it mattered not in the moment. After seeing his correction and corresponding punishment through, Marcus looked to the men around him and nodded. "We'll return to camp, bring her to my tent." he ordered, giving her a final glance before making his way back to the safety of his army lines and command tent.

 

[Lala]

The wind stirred the edge of her gown and the tendrils of her hair as she curtsied to the foreign general. It brought with it the familiar scent of the blue anjira blossoms that grew wild around the palace and the surrounding areas. A sweet, heady perfume that permeated nearly every memory she had of this place.

Anjira was fussy. It flourished in its freedom, but wilted when confined to a ceramic prison. Gemma much doubted that the general, and by extension she, would be staying here after the occupation plans were finalized. She might never smell that lavender-vanilla aroma of the anjira again. Would she too wilt when placed in a cage?

Her gaze slowly, very slowly, tipped up to his face in increments. She felt the reverberations of her misstep before he spoke. A dash of admiration that quickly vanished, a flash of indignance, and then the hardline determination of a man used to being obeyed.

“No!” she cried out at once, as he gave the execution order. Her pride was screaming at her again, but before he even got to his demand a second time, she was already prostrating herself in the dirt. Soft, pampered hands stood stark against the dark earth where she pressed her nose to the ground. “Dominus, please.”

She would be more careful about how she pushed him from now on. This was an adversary she had no experience with, and he held quite the unfair advantage over her with the imprisonment of those people important to her. Her fingers curled slightly against the dirt, almost clawing. The legionnaire wanted to kill someone. His thoughts were filled with glee and it disgusted her. As she slowly lifted her head and caught that broad smile, utter hatred filled her eyes. It looked like she was about to fly up off the ground and leap at him like a wild animal.

But she couldn’t. That would negate any progress she made with the general, if she fell upon his men and started tearing their throats out with her teeth. No one did that anymore, of course, but the ancient Vathurians were savage and bold, hunting some of the creatures of their homeworld with their bare hands. And teeth.

Her breaths came short and quick as anger gripped her. Fighting her instincts for the good of her family and friends. “Dominus,” she said quietly, still almost choking on the foreign word. It would take some time to come to grips with it. Her head tipped toward the legionnaire. She was a breath away from leaping at him. “This man undermines your glory. Noble warriors take pleasure in the victories, not the killing itself.”

Would he even care? Or would he take her words as an attempt at lecture and carry out his sentence to punish her? Maybe he didn’t care. His thoughts revealed he found her people to be quite a bit beneath the Nova Romans, so maybe it was no more than slaughtering animals to him. But, but, it was those small glimpses of respect peeking through that told her he was different. Not by much, but enough that she might be able to work on him.

One of the foreign shuttles screamed across the sky, flying low. A sudden bright bolt fired from it now and again. Black smoke rose from the land in malignant plumes. No, he didn’t care. He was just a conqueror.

Hands suddenly pulled at her when he gave another order. Some grabbed her lewdly, seemingly by design and not accident. Oh, they were aware that she belonged to their general now, but these men had been on campaign for a while now and they were hungry. There were enough of them on her that she could not break free, nor would she try to given the circumstances. But that didn’t mean she would go easily.

When a hand closed over her breast, she jerked aside suddenly. The legionnaire kept a firm hold and there was the sound of fabric tearing. Her neckline plunged down, barely containing her assets in the torn dress. They laughed and continued to grope as they ferried her to the general’s tent, a massive thing commanding the surrounding cliffs.

Solar-powered armor plates reflected the dual suns now high in the sky, making it look a bit like a gleaming black beetle hunched on the hill. The general had already ducked inside, and his soldiers quickly followed to deposit his claim in front of him.

 

[Niksis]

Meanwhile elsewhere on the planet the fighting continued, despite the defeat on one half of the planet, the other was being sieged by another Nova Roman, another General sent to subjugate the Vathurians alongside Marcus. Unlike Marcus however, this General was facing greater troubles winning the war. Though whether it was due to his inexperience, the ferocity with which the Vathurians defended what was theirs, incompetence, or a combination of them all was hard to tell. What could not be argued however, was the slow progress being made. Despite the capital falling, word had yet to reach the southern sphere of the planet as such, thousands of Nova Romans and Vahuturians still died by the minute.

A group of heavily armored Nova Roman Legionnaires, equipped with large laser rifles and power armor stood in stark contrast to the more ornate, flowery armor and armaments of the Vathurians. Though despite their looks, they proved more than capable of slowing and in some instances, completely halting the Nova Roman advance. Standing firm in their trench, the Nova Romans fought valiantly and with every bit of discipline hammered into them from years of hard training. However in the face of a foe who can read your mind; know your tactics and intentions all that training and discipline becomes void. An equalizer if ever there was one. So with their superior knowledge of their planet and the area around them, the southern "campaign" was facing major difficulties.

"Maybe when the General is done with this one, we can have some fun of our own." One of the pair said, making no attempt to hide his intention with the Vathurian 'slave' if he had his way. "Could always sneak into that alley there. I doubt he'd know and if she said anything, who would he believe?" the other responded, a stray hand moving to grope the woman inappropriately.

They were smarter than that however, as they knew better than to defile or sully the General's property. And she was his property, even if she herself wasn't ready to admit or even embrace that. So when she was dropped off at his command tent, they both left without further incident, leaving the beautiful alien alone with the General.

He walked over to a nearby table and poured himself a glass of some golden liquid. Everything inside the command tent was opulent, excessive. Luxury by Nova Roman standards displayed everywhere. From the large portraits on the wall to the thick fur carpets, the inside of the tent was a posh sanctuary, a reminder of the quality of living he had left behind to free these aliens from the tyranny they had lived under, at least, that's how the senate sold it to its generals.

"Tell me about your home, Gemma." Marcus suddenly said, making no comment on the words she had spoken earlier about his men. He knew they weren't the perfect example of a Nova Roman legionnaire. They didn't have to be, they just had to be good at their job. His own guard had to, however. They represented him directly, but not the grunts.

"And stand there while you do." he added, motioning to a spot in front of his desk with a hand before removing the thick red cloak that was clasped to his shoulders and lowered himself unto a chair then locked his inquisitive gaze unto the vathurian once more. Eager to know more of her race, her customs and everything her people was. While still curious just what use the woman was to him, or could be.

 

[Lala]

Rage cut a jagged path through Gemma’s body, radiating through veins and small capillaries like an invading microbe intent on destroying her. The calloused soldier’s hand on her breast even earned him a soft little growl of warning, as though she actually were the savage race the Nova Romans considered her people. And he had the gall to suggest hauling her into the alley like a common trollop.

Her chin tilted skyward slightly in an aristocratic slant. She refused to be demeaned and defiled by these crass invaders. Perhaps they did have the weight of an Empire behind them, perhaps they did have superior firepower, but they were not above the Vathurians. And especially not one of her pedigree.

A slender hand closed over the rough one and ripped it from her bodice with a scoff. She had already learned that the general was not to be tested, and she had not forgotten the hostages that would secure her obedience. But she suspected these men wouldn’t dare tattle that she’d refused their advances, considering those advances were likely against the general’s wishes.

She was in this position of being a spoil of war whether she liked it or not, and had to play the game. Lives depended on it.

When the soldiers deposited her within the tent, she was surprised to find it so very lush inside. She’d assumed it would be a utility, and nothing more, but it seemed the general had planned for his comfort on what she supposed would be a long campaign. They hadn’t achieved victory just yet, she knew. Those in the southern reaches were a wild bunch, likely to hold on to the last man’s dying breath. The thought made a sly smile curl just the edge of her lip, but she banished it before it gave her away.

And then they were alone. It was utterly silent in this tent. The armor must also be equipped with sound dampening equipment, because it was that eerie type of quiet that rarely exists under natural circumstances. Her heart was a thrumming lump lodged in her throat, choking her with the rapid clip of nerves, of hate. It might seem she was simply awed by the luxury before her, but her eyes moved with purpose. To the rugs, the portraits, the ceremonial sword she saw racked behind his desk, to the small items on the desk itself. She cataloged everything. Could he move fast enough to disarm her if she made for his sword? She could read his thoughts, but he couldn't know hers. That advantage could be as useful in here as it was on the battlefield. She would just have to move decisively and quickly when she found her window. The sound dampening in here could certainly work to her advantage.

Her careful gaze followed the man’s every move as he poured himself a drink. With the grace and poise of one bred and raised in palaces, she sashayed into place where he indicated with a soft rustle of her luxurious gown. While his attention contained a restrained sort of curiosity, hers held only poison directed squarely at him.

Used to speaking freely, it would take time for her to learn to control the spiked nature of the words that came quickly to her lips. “It was far more beautiful before your kind arrived. Do you even know what you have destroyed? Those caves down below that you collapsed with your missiles contained ancient petroglyphs, the first stories of our people. Priceless. Lost. The forests that yield those hardwoods people pay dearly for across the galaxy are a smoldering ruin. And why? Why now did you turn to us after leaving us in peace for so long?”

Tears pricked her eyes and she scrubbed them away with a quick swipe of her bell-shaped sleeve. She didn’t want to show weakness before the general. “But what do you really want to know? You showed no care for my people in the path of destruction you left behind. It's the southerners, isn't it? They've started with their tricks and you can't subdue them." She stifled the smile threatening.

Centuries ago, the north and south had battled over a small tract of land they both coveted. The north had considered it an easy advance, but the southerners employed guerilla tactics in the deep jungles and completely overwhelmed them. She suspected the Nova Romans were dealing with their underground tunnels and ambushes presently.

 

[Niksis]

Gently sipping his drink, Marcus watched the alien; this 'Gemma' carefully as she spoke. Despite the vitriol she was spewing forth towards him and his people, understandably all things considered, he remained calm and collected. Merely nodding once in awhile as she continued to explain of the damage he and his men had caused. Not that he knew, of course. And to an extent, didn't care much either. It wasn't that he was malicious towards her people or customs either, in truth, he was very curious about her people and their customs. How they handled their dead, celebrated life, how they kept a calendar. He was curious about the minor things.

When she was finally done talking, Marcus simply nodded again though his features gave nothing away. Calm and collected still, he opened his mouth to speak again. "Are you done, if not then keep going. Get it all off your chest. Tell me how much of a monster I am. How evil my men are and how we've destroyed everything you love and care for. Because when you are done, I won't hear it ever again." Despite the calm exterior, his tone remained firm and strong, not one wanting to be questioned at all. "Trust me, Gemma. I understand your pain. I have seen it countless times before. But dwelling on it helps neither you, nor your loved ones."

Placing his cup back on the desk again, Marcus rose from his chair and stepped closer to the woman. Keeping his gaze firmly locked with her own; as if staring her down, he spoke again. "I care not for your southern people. They are for someone else to deal with. At least, until they've proven incapable of doing so, then I will... No, I'm asking about you. I wish to know my property better. Unless you want to trade back your life for your peoples?" Mind games, he loved them. Especially when he held the upper hand in them; when he was able to present seemingly no-win scenarios for his opponent. Granted, a part of him didn't want to see this woman as an opponent. Devotion was always preferable to fear in slaves, at least that's his view on it. A fearful slave might be useful for now, but you'd always have to watch your back around them. Where a devoted one watches it for you.

As he stood there, watching her so closely, that eerie silence fell upon them once more. The sound dampeners installed in his tent working overtime to keep the sounds of a dying war on the outside. Leaving the noble born son of Nova Rome to his own thoughts. At least, that was until Fortuna had thrown him in the same path as the alien Gemma. Time would tell it if was good or bad luck that had smiled upon him that day.