Title: The
Master's Daughter
Author:
Sythe aka Dawn
Rating:
NC17
Characters:
M/F
Category:
Smut, Het
Feedback:
Yes please! TELOXI@hotmail.com
Disclaimer:
I don't own em, I just borrow em for my fics. I received no money in its
creation.
Summary:
The Queen and Jedi have escaped from Tatooine and make their way back to the
planet of Naboo. Having been ordered to go and wait for them there, Darth Maul
finds something he did not expect to find on the home world of his master.
*Note:
Thanks to my zusje for helping me in this part of the story. Could not have
done it without her!*
Part IX
The Sith frowns as he reads the memories
that flood her mind. Memories of two children playing together. Could that be him?
The Sith Lord growls softly, tightening his grip on the woman’s arms. No…this
foolish and childish behaviour could never have been his. Chasing a little girl
about large, dark halls? Never…not he…yet the images he sees are those of a
young, slender boy with jet black skin…like himself… and the girl looks up at
him adoringly with clear, liquid brown eyes.
“Khameir, catch me!” her child’s voice calls
out and she giggles, running from the dark hall in search of a place to hide.
“…stop! You know the Master does not allow
foolish play. Come back and exercise as he told us to.” Khameir sounds a little
annoyed, but the little girl does not return, and, with a devious smile, he
runs after her, searching for her in every dark corner and any possible hiding place
until he finds her. With an excited cry she jumps from her hiding place and
runs from him once more, racing down an adjoining corridor, glancing back over
her shoulder for a moment.
And in that moment, he watches how her satin
hair moves in the air like a curtains of silk caught in a breeze, dancing
behind her teasingly. In that moment, he sees the twinkle in her eyes, the
tender smile upon her face. He sees the innocence of youth…
The Dark Lord’s frown grows deeper as he
sees himself standing there in that dark hall as a young boy rushes past him on
the trail of a small girl and the flow of air causes his dark robes to move
softly against his legs.
Suddenly it is he who becomes that boy
chasing after her, his legs still a little awkward from growing so fast,
pumping to catch up with her. Finally he is close enough to grab her and his
hands close around her tiny waist, tickling her. She screams with laughter and
surprise, falling to the floor at his feet, trying vainly to make him stop his
relentless teasing.
“Khameir, stop!”
With a start the Dark Lord finds himself in
the present again, his powerful hands still holding the woman captive. Once
more she lets him see more of her memories, this time of the both of them
training together in a large training room, the immaculately polished walls
reflecting their images in the deepest of black. They hold long stalfs with
blunted ends so as not to cause injuries while training, and they face each
other, panting from their exertion.
She takes on a fighter’s stance, bending her
knees and repositioning her feet for more stability as she draws the Darkside
in to anticipate his next move. When it comes, it is swift and powerful, almost
too fast for an outsider’s eye to follow. He spins and thrusts his stalf at her
from different angles, a succession of blows coming from every direction. She
is an adept pupil of her teacher’s as well as he is and she deflects them
cunningly, trying to cause him to make the most minute of mistakes. Then a
quick lunge upwards while she pushes forward, her stalf hits his arm. His eyes
glitter as he grabs her arm holding the stalf and pulls her off balance.
With a soft growl of annoyance the girl
falls forward against his chest. He catches her without missing a single move
and holds her to him. Her dark eyes meet his fiery, golden ones and her breath
catches in her throat. He can hear her heart beating faster and not only from
exertion. He senses she suddenly finds it almost impossible to pull away from
his hypnotic gaze and finds herself drowning in his eyes of liquid fire. She
catches her breath and puts her hands against his chest, pushing away from him.
The Dark One sees her inhale sharply before
walking away from him in this shared memory from her past, straightening her
shoulders as she moves quickly towards the exit of the training room. He does
not miss the hints of refining muscles moving under her skin hidden beneath the
tight black training uniform she wears. He watches how her hands place her
weapon upon its rack on the wall, the respect she has for every weapon before
her. Watches how she pulls the clips in her hair, letting its length cascade
down against her back in a brilliant display of shimmering golds and browns.
And he watches as she leaves him behind in the training room, only glance to
him as she turns the corner to go to her rooms...
More memories flood him, coming quicker as
the connection between them is completed. The next image brings them together
once more in the training room. The Dark Lord can see training weapons neatly
resting in their proper places upon the racks along the polished, black walls
around them. They are older now, his horns showing his maturity. Their combat
skills are now even more advanced, every move trained a thousand times over
until it becomes instinct, second nature. As they face each other across the
floor, they command the Force, allowing the intricately decorated Sith swords
to fly into their waiting hands.
Their fighting has become more aggressive
now, each of them trying to become the best pupil, each of them competing as
best they can for the approval of the Master. Swords cleave the air, making
whistling sounds as they circle each other and somersault to avoid strikes.
A small rivulet of sweat trickles down the
girl’s temple as she blocks an attack from his sword. She pushes on and they
continue to exchange fast blows and attacks. He notices her dark hair sticking
to her flushed skin and he can hear her breaths coming ragged from her throat.
As he parries her last blow he feels the impact of it reverberate through his
arm, up to his shoulder, but also he knows she is tiring. A swift circling move
rips the sword from her hand and throws it across the floor, skidding with a
sharp metallic sound. Within the same move, he pulls her arm, flooring her with
a perfectly executed shoulder throw. As she lands with a distinctive thud upon
the black mat, he lets himself go down with her, pinning her body down with his
weight, half straddling her between his muscular thighs.
The girl glares up at him, but she has no
other option than to call surrender and give him victory. But, instead of
releasing her and returning to his feet for the ceremonial bow, he bends
forward slowly, his eyes nearing her face. He can feel her panting breath on
his lips and opens his mouth to share it, making it his. He can taste the
sweetness of her breath, feel her life coursing through her body with every
raging beat of her heart. And he can feel her growing breasts pressed against
his chest, small and firm. Girlish.
For a moment in time they are joined, the
Darkside of the Force flowing freely between them. His mouth nears hers for a
first tender touch, but before he can take her mouth captive, he senses the
approach of his Master before she does, and with a fluid move he jumps to his
feet.
The Dark Lord sees himself staring down at
the girl, he senses how she wants his kiss, he reads her thought, asking him to
be hers, but he shakes his head slowly and reaches out his hand to her, offering
to help her to her feet. However, she feels hurt by his rejection and slaps his
hand away, rising to her feet as gracefully as he did. They take the starting
position on the mat, facing each other, bowing respectfully as their Master
enters the training room…
The Sith Lord shakes his head almost
imperceptibly as if to clear it. He sees himself through her eyes; he relives
those moments from his youth together with her, yet he cannot remember…the
images too fleeting for him to firmly grasp hold of. This woman seems to be
part of his life, part of him, if only he could hold the memory and understand
its meaning. He definitely felt her love for him; this woman he holds captive
here is a woman who once loved him.
No, the Sith Lord ponders, still loves him,
he can sense it as clearly here as he sensed it through her memories as well as
see it in her eyes.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
he demands, his eyes flashing dangerously.
The woman shakes her head. “Do you not
remember?”
“Why should I remember a mere woman?” he
growls, angered by her hold over him.
“Does the name Eridani mean nothing to you?”
the woman answers, a note of irritation rising in her soft voice, her hands
having grasped hold of the front of his black robes, holding to him as if not
wanting to let go.
“It means nothing to me,” he replies,
although a sense of her presence in his mind wants to surface. Memories so
faint that he can feel them, do not appear, but linger behind a shroud of haze
and forgetfulness…darkness.
“We were trained together as children, you
and I, right here in these rooms. Our teacher, Master Sidious taught us our
combat skills, but we were separated before we became adults. One day you were
suddenly gone and I never saw you again…the day when Master Sidious gave me the
black velvet box that I was not to open until the time was right.” For a moment
the woman’s voice lowers. “You left me standing there in that room and you left
without even glancing back…without saying goodbye.”
The Sith remains silent. He merely faces the
woman before him, his golden eyes boring into her dark ones, his powerful mind
searching hers.
“Yes…” the single word comes in a soft hiss
and a narrowing of his eyes. “Yes… you were there, somewhere hidden in my mind.
You are powerful, yet you are not Sith.”
He releases her and allows her to rise to
her feet, looking her over completely in a silent glance. She is slender, but
she is tall and her muscles are well developed, giving her body that lean and
warrior-like appearance in her black uniform. She may not be Sith, but she
might make a worthy opponent, if she should be foolish enough to challenge him.
As the Dark Lord gazes at her face, he is
once again struck by the familiarity he had experienced before, like a cloud
moving in the sky and revealing the sun for a brief moment. He rises swiftly to
his feet, straining his mind to remember who this woman is, and whom she
reminds him of. What is more, she spoke of Sidious, his Master, claiming him as
her Master as well. No one but he, Dark Lord of the Sith, would dare claim the
honour of being apprentice to Lord Sidious…the sole apprentice. Again the Sith
utters a low sound at the back of his throat, this mere female calls a Sith
Master her teacher? Unspeakable! Impossible!
“There can be only one…” he mutters under
his breath.
“Khameir…” Eridani pleads, turning about to
face him, “can you not remember?”
“The name you call me by has no meaning to
me. That person no longer exists. I am Darth Maul, Dark Lord of the Sith,
apprentice to Lord Sidious.” Lord Maul straightens his back as he speaks, his
arrogance and pride flashing from his eyes.
Struck by his attitude, Eridani’s eyes dart
icicles at him. “Indeed! Well I shall have you know, Lord Maul, that I too have
been trained by Master Sidious - if it pleases you or not.”
Lord Maul grabs her shoulders roughly and
pulls her to his chest, his fiery eyes only inches from hers. “Be careful,
woman, I could destroy you in a heartbeat!”
“And how, pray tell, do you think my Master
would react if you killed his apprentice?” Eridani bites back, standing her
ground, pulling back away from the Sith Lord as best she is able.
“There can be only one Master and under him,
one apprentice, and I am that one. I shall be the one to rule the galaxy and I
shall be the one to destroy the Jedi and their sanctimonious Order,” the Sith
growls in growing rage. “And if anyone stands in my way, he or in this case,
she, will die. I may even let you have the choice…a quick death or a slow one!”
“Then so be it, my Lord, fight me and see if
you can kill the apprentice of Master Sidious as easily as you assume in your
arrogance!” Eridani cries out in anger, her hands clenched tightly at her
sides.
Lord Maul releases her and pushes her away.
“You always said I was arrogant,” he says, surprising even himself with this
sudden revelation. “When I could cloak myself in the Darkside, you were angry
and jealous because you could not follow me there.”
Her chest still heaving with dark anger,
Eridani unclenches her fists. “Yes…you disappeared and I could hear you
laughing at me. I tried to cloak myself as you did…I could not. You had the
power to appear from out of nowhere and you did to make me jump, to frighten
me.”
Lord Maul manages a slight grin. “Yes and
you slapped me if I remember correctly.”
“No my Lord, I punched you as hard as I
could.”
“Ah yes, and my Lord Sidious inquired where
I received the welt,” Maul remembers, slowly recalling memories long hidden…or
made to forget.
He leans closer to her, drawn to her by the
Force as well as his desire to make her his. Her scent is intoxicating,
alluring, like that of a dark night of sensuous passion. He lowers his head and
brings his nose closer to her neck, noticing the small vein throbbing with her
wild heartbeat. Her ears are small, delicately shaped shells and he brushes his
mouth over them, finding a strand of dark hair has escaped from the tight bun
upon the back of her head. The soft leather of his black glove moves over her
skin as he takes the thin lock between his fingers. The Sith hears how she
utters a soft sigh, leaning her head back a little as he finds the silver clasp
that holds her hair up and removes it slowly.
Long dark tresses fall into his waiting hand
and he buries his fingers deeply in them, the sound of satin against leather
firing his passion, making his blood burn in his veins, and his body responds
to the nearness of her.
Closer and closer Lord Maul pulls her to
him, feeling the tips of her firm breasts press against his chest. It arouses
him, like all those times before when he saw her and wanted to make her his. He
feels her hands slowly go up his back, the warmth spreading over his skin
through the thick fabric, her fingers tracing the hard muscles along his spine.
“You are mine,” Maul says in a low, husky
voice, holding her possessively to him. “There will be no escape for you,
Little One, no one shall ever possess you after I make you mine.”
His hands move over her body, from her back
to her shoulders and up to the neckline of her training uniform. Strong fingers
hook themselves inside it…and with a single move, tears the fabric from the
neck to her waist, exposing her exquisite, white skin to him…
~To Be
Continued in Part X~