A dark AU (Alternative Universe) inspired by College Fool's Renegade Reinterpretations, LogicalPremise's "Premiseverse," and elements of the SCP Foundation. A galaxy that seems closer to the utopia of Star Trek at its uppermost layer, where its citizens live blissfully unaware of the sheer callousness and dark undertones ruled by competing intelligence agencies, horrific experiments, conspiracies, and the fight for racial supremacy that had been ongoing for thousands of years. And yet, unseen to even their impressive eyes lay the Moonlit World, where magic, mysteries, and gods rule.
In the Arms of Eternity [Mass Effect x Fate/stay night]
- Thread starter Autumn Reign
- Start date
- Crossover Sci-Fi Mystery
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 78
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 5
-
Statistics (3 threadmarks, 19k words)
User Total Autumn Reign 3 Threadmarks Reader mode -
Loading…
Page 1
Power is influence
Power is control
Power is everything
But to those blinded by it, they cannot see that
Power…
…is a cycle.
– Shadow Broker
Page 1
The glass was cold in her hands.
And in the darkness—she sat.
Flux was its name. A newly opened nightclub amongst the wreckages of a recovering Citadel. Above, she watched those below dance with an almost fervor embrace, giving themselves to the hard-bass notes that rumbled the very ground they stood on.
And oh, did they dance—enraptured by the raven-sewn darkness of the venue.
Tevos Naraius was never one to find the club scene 'her thing,' but with recent...unfortunate...events, she found herself enjoying the atmosphere nevertheless.
She could see herself amongst them. Dancing and moving—with not a solitary care for the world.
But she would have to get down to their level first.
She scoffed.
The glass crinkled as she sipped the last of her scotch.
Humans really do make some fine drinks.
She stretched her arms out, admiring the navy blue halter dress that was all but shoved to her face. The matriarch chuckled at the memory. A young human that resembled much of her own kind's maidens, and an up-and-coming fashion designer to boot. For her to seek her out amongst the crowd of celebrities and dignitaries at the Vogue Gala was a feat of itself.
"It's fine! The exposure from someone as illustrious as you wearing it is all the payment I need," she squealed, right before getting dragged off by security.
Of course, she wasn't cruel enough to just let that happen. And hopefully, she'd see that young human in a billboard sign one day.
An investment, if one could call it that.
Humans.
"Another glass, ma'am?"
Speak of the devil.
Eyes caught the lower half of the server's very asari form before trailing up only to meet the inquisitive gaze of the server's very blue, exotic eyes.
They look so much like us.
"Ma'am…?"
"Ah," she blinked, "yes, please."
The alien woman nodded with a bright smile, her red hair bounced with the gesture before she left with her empty glass.
Eyes lingered from where she was. The genuine flair for life was evident in her every movement. The jounce in the woman's step made her feel...older…than she actually was.
She huffed at the thought and leaned her head back, eyes closed as she felt the velvet cushion conform around her crest.
Flux was an oasis. In these turbulent times, even a krogan could see just from watching the people alone that it was desperately needed.
But even illusions have their limits and eventually, life, with all her cruelty, would come barging in. Something they all must confront.
As is her.
The leader amongst the masses. With all the false cheer and decisions attached behind an impeccable face.
She sighed.
When did she start thinking that way?
Perhaps Councilor Valern or Sparatus would allow her to take a vacation? Only for a year—or ten.
Tevos snorted at the thought.
She would sooner trust a vorcha than leave those two in charge for any amount of time. Such as Valern, the mouthpiece. Or the pragmatic, but incredibly narrow Sparatus.
No. If the people were to regain their faith in the Council—it had to be her.
She sighed once more, closing her eyes.
The pitch-black darkness of his beady eyes peered through her, as if she was nothing more than a slab of meat presented towards an apex predator.
A cold shudder ran down her spine. Habitual fingers reached for the empty spot where her drink was but a moment ago.
She pursed her "lips."
Suddenly, the door to her VIP lounge slid open, turning her attention away from dark memories.
"There you are."
Aaaand there goes my hiding spot.
With another sigh, she pulled her hand back and straightened her back, blinking questionably at her visitor.
"Do you have my drink?" she asked with an innocent head-tilt.
Her guest scrunched her brows at the words, a gloved hand pressed against her hip. Her black, form-fitting one-piece showcased a slender, but toned figure. A figure crafted from the rigors of intense training. And if anyone were to doubt her qualifications, they need but look down—to the small of her back.
A short warp blade, hardly noticeable to the casual viewer, but noticeable enough to those who knew where to look.
Normally, the club wouldn't have allowed someone so lethally armed to enter the premises, but she was a special exception.
Or rather, it was the emblem on her upper arm that caused them to look away. Even the dark rapture of the nightclub couldn't hide the gleam of the White Aegis.
"Lady Tevos…!" her new guest almost whined in exasperation.
The edges of the matriarch's "lips" quirked in a subtle and amused smile. Cute.
"Who?"
The commando sighed. "I know that's you, my lady. It's not hard for me to see through your phase mask."
Her "lips" curled up further into a smile. "A jest, Azalea," she chuckled softly. "Now then, what brings you here?"
The matron almost glared, crossing her arms. "Why else, madam? I'm the captain of your guard. Where you go—I go. Especially out in the open. You nearly gave everyone a heart attack when you suddenly disappeared on us after your session today."
"I only went out for a drink," she looked away. "And besides, the geth are gone, Azalea. No one here is going to kill me."
Her personal guard unfolded her arms, chewing her lower lip before speaking up. "Maybe, but you can't just leave without—!"
"I can't go out on my own without asking for permission?" she looked back, her expression icy.
"I…my lady…" Azalea fumbled, suddenly remembering her position.
Tevos sighed, causing the matron to quiet down. "Forgive me, Azalea," she breathed out. "It has been a long day. That's all."
The matron's look softened a touch but she remained silent.
After a moment, the matriarch gestured for her to take a seat and in relative silence, she did. The music rumbled in the foreground. The older asari leaned back against the couch once more, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling of the nightclub.
The matriarch sensed her hesitation but simply ignored it. Instead, choosing to enjoy the silence.
The commando leaned in, studying her lady's "face."
It was impressive.
The customized STG phase mask the Councilor wore morphed her appearance to that of an average-looking person. It did it far better than any standard model she's seen. Especially with how the light bounced off of the holographic texture and detail woven into its design. It was realistic enough to weather intense scrutiny, even by drell and salarian eyes.
Though, she did wonder if it worked just as well against scanners and augments.
"Azalea."
"Yes, my lady?"
Her eyes were to the ceiling—piercing and poignant.
The commando followed her gaze—and gasped. The sight nearly took her breath away.
If that phase mask was the bleeding edge of nanite-induced holograms, then the image above was its potential realized on a macro scale.
Constellations and twinkling lights. Shooting stars and distant galaxies. A simulacrum of the heavens made exacting through the pinnacle of modern, man-made engineering.
Flux spared no expense to give its patrons what they wanted. And in that fantasy, she was tempted to reach out; to grab hold of a star just to see if it was possible.
"Do you think anyone would really care," a voice tender and soft, "if I just vanished?"
She blinked incredulously and slowly, turned to her.
The subtle wrinkles. The longing gaze. The empty smile.
For that brief second—the illusion faded.
"Lady…Tevos…?"
A soft grin graced her "lips."
"It's nothing. Just a bit of alcohol getting to me."
She knew it wasn't just 'nothing,' but she lowered her head regardless, having no words for her, once more.
"O-oh, by the way," the commando quickly segued, "you should turn your omni-tool on. Lady Nassana's been trying to get a hold of you for some time. Something to do with going over some important documents."
The matriarch gave an amused smile to her blunt change of topics but went along with it.
Back to business then.
Councilor Tevos Naraius peeked down at her wrist and tapped the silver-colored bracelet she had on. She felt the slight heat of the device warming up. Almost instantly, thirteen priority messages popped up on the orange haptic screen. Four from Azalea, eight from Nassana, and curiously enough—one from Selica.
Her violet eyes glanced up to her commando who just shrugged.
The Councilor looked back at the screen, a hand hovering over Selica's message before she pulled back, fingers clasping into a fist.
She can wait.
Letting out a deep sigh, she stood.
"It looks like my little vacation is nearing its end. Let us go," she smiled, "my Captain."
"Yes, my lady," and trailed her like a shadow.
Well, this place was fun while it lasted.
It's too bad. She rather liked Flux. It's hard enough finding the time for herself, let alone mingle in public without getting swarmed by reporters and such.
The doors chimed and opened, revealing the surprised look of the redheaded human waitress from earlier. In her hand was a trey, balancing an ice-cold glass of scotch she had long forgotten.
"You would deny the hallowed words of the Enkindlers?"
The human priest schooled his features and straightened the edges of his rob. "I do not deny the wisdom or deeds of the great Enkindlers, only the nature that you claim them to be."
"And yet, their works are proof of their divinity. While, I mean no offense, the vague existence of your Father is barely tangible through the stories that, curiously enough, only humanity has shared. Unlike the Enkindlers, whose divine and very tangible works aided in creating the very society we are blessed with today."
Subtly, she watched the pair through the outlines of passing passersby, deliberately slowing her gait to listen to what they were saying.
"That may be, but your perspective is limited, fellow preacher! A wise man once said that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, and I have no doubt that as great as the Enkindlers are, they were as mortal as you and I. What is the essence of the divine if it were to rely on lowly means such as 'technology'? Our Father, on the other hand, does not base his works on the advancements of tools, but through the miracles he performs!" he boasted with zeal.
The gleam of his cross was apparent for all to see.
"Did you know, fellow preacher? That every race so far had recordings similar to the stories of our Father in the Bible? Figures of worship that had somehow developed independently before any of the current races interacted with one another. The drell Lucent, the salarian Ivektor, the elcor All-Seeing, as well as the asari's famous Athame. They all share similar traits and stories, written in scriptures my own people have preached about for thousands of years."
"And I must remind you, wise priest, that there is a difference between something being similar and something being the same," the hanar preacher chastised. "The differences between all these mythological figures you bring up are too large a gulf to imply that they are the same being. You are arguing narratives against very tangible works, after all. And the concept of a miracle is not unique to any one culture, because no matter the similarities you see between these old gods—they are merely coincidental."
The human priest's grin was almost savage, an expression that was oddly fitting on his face. "Ah, but you forget, fellow preacher. In our line of work—there are no such things as coincidences."
Councilor Tevos was left amused that the hanar preachers had finally met their match with the human priests. Although, the crowds, as always, did their best to ignore their squabble like they once had with the hanar preachers throughout the centuries.
But she didn't mind it. It was part of the Citadel's charm, after all.
This was once a daily routine for her. Before her fame, before the recognition, finding herself lost in an ocean of people had always put her mind at ease.
Prim and proper asari, energetic and calculating salarians, stoic and respectful turians; even while undergoing repairs, there was no end to those who graced the silver roads of the Presidium.
But a hand on her shoulder suddenly snapped her away from her musings, quickly pulling her back. A giggling asari child narrowly bumped into her as she ran from her chaser.
A salarian quickly followed, "Apologies, ma'am!" he blurted out, before dashing after the giggling child. "Katriss! Get back here!"
"Are you okay, my lady?" Azalea whispered, letting go.
"I am well," she frowned. Her gaze followed the pair as the assumed child's father finally caught up to her.
Eyes lingered, taking in every detail of their embrace before she felt a tug in her chest.
Perhaps I should get another drink at the apartment.
But as she pulled herself away from the scene, a glimpse of something else caught her attention.
It was in the crowds—at the other end of the overarching bridge. A human—
No…it can't be.
Before she knew it, the Councilor found herself sprinting, shoving aside person after person. Years of carefully crafted grace and elegance were quickly left behind.
Some saw her coming and moved aside, startled by her frantic sprint. Others were pushed, a squawk from an older turian barely registering in her senses, but nothing in her eyes mattered more than the figure at the other end of this bridge.
Wait, wait!
But he kept moving forward, deaf to her silent pleas.
Please, dammit, just WAIT—!
Faster and faster she ran in a haze, her breath growing wild and uncontrolled.
It had always been like this. No matter how far she ran, she could never catch up.
But almost like a miracle, her outstretched hand reached him.
Time seemed to slow as he turned to her—but something was wrong.
A pair of surprised and confused eyes met her desperate ones and instantly she realized who it was.
Or, rather, who it was not.
"Um, yes…?" the stranger asked, confused.
She let go, as if touching something hot, and stumbled back, breathing heavily.
Tevos took more steps back as she stared at him in disbelief, catching her breath. Slowly, she was beginning to notice the growing crowd of people gathering around them.
Quickly, she bowed deeply to the human, burning with shame.
"Madam!" Azalea's frantic voice finally caught up from behind.
"I… I had mistaken you for someone I knew. Please, accept my apology," she breathed out, bowing low to hide her deep shade of purple.
The human man felt lost with the sudden appearance of this strange asari but gave out a strained smile. "Oh, it's okay! I…I hope you find who you're looking for."
She looked up, her heart still pounding in her chest, but tried hard to gather up a modicum of dignity. "Thank you," she smiled.
"Well, then. Have a good day, miss."
He gave a demurred bow of his head before he turned and walked away, obviously flustered.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
She watched him go once more.
Like a distant memory. Of longing and regret.
Unheeded to the worried gaze of the captain in black.
To the sidelong glances from the people around her.
To the thundering beats of her heart.
In her lingering gaze, she ignored it all.
But even when she knew the man walking away was just a stranger she mistook, she couldn't ignore him.
The stranger dressed in a jacket of crimson red.
The stranger dressed in slacks of onyx black.
The stranger with hair…
...of snow-white.
Who is Tevos Naraius?
To answer that question, one must look back—to 40 years ago.
Many would say that 40 years is a long time, but to the asari, it's merely a blink in their eyes.
When the widely popular Treeya T'fey announced her retirement, it set the galaxy aflame.
A celebrated politician, if but a rare one in modern times.
To the turians, she was pivotal in relaxing tensions between the Separatists and the Hierarchy as well as advocating for sapient rights for the non-turian Hierarchy citizens.
To the salarians, she was viewed as a leading figure for a woman's right to choose their partners, as well as the go-to person for quelling any disputes between the Chamber of Matriarchs and the leaders of the Union.
But to the asari, however, she was the closest thing to an actual saint. Beautiful, intelligent, and capable. She had seen the asari through the Krogan rebellions and the Geth uprising with a poise and grace that garnered admiration throughout the Republics.
An honored Mother Superior for the Order of Athame.
A receiver of the prestigious Medal of Eternal Glory.
And the formal ambassador to Illium.
Countless were her admirers throughout the years, and too numerous were here rewards. As such, she became a staple in Council politics, but more so, to the cameras of the galaxy.
So, who was next in line to succeed such a beloved figure?
Who was next, in the countless billions throughout the galaxy, to take up the mantle of their representative?
Would it be Estra T'haana, the cool beauty that could match wits with the snarkiest salarians? Or how about Ala'fae L'tanius, a figure that exuded the stern, yet caring 'older sibling' type? Perhaps it would be Y'sidra Beyfor, a petite, and soft-spoken cutie that beguiled her sharp instincts.
Whoever it would be, it would make headlines regardless. You see, the impact of Treeya T'fey's effect on the office of asari Councilor could not be understated. She brought a level of grace and style that would become a staple to the position. While these traits aren't unique to famous figures, her being a politician made it special. As such, the office not only demanded competency but a certain look that could turn heads and motivate others to pay attention just a little bit harder. That isn't to say that the other two Great Powers had their own criteria, as to them, the asari Councilor's appearance was crucial for their role as the foremost diplomat amongst the three.
So, to say that the reveal came as a surprise was an understatement. Nearly every prediction that came to pass, from entertainment channel polls, to the VI predicting algorithims of the salarians, to think-tank groups within the Hierarchy—had got it all wrong.
Tevos Naraius of the obscure Naraius family...was chosen. A mere member of Treeya's diplomatic team, she was elevated to one of the group leaders during the latter stages of Treeya's tenure.
Nearly every person who at least had a casual interest in the news suddenly went searching for any tidbit of information they could locate about her. But even their findings were lackluster. And that was a lot of people.
A former CEO of a modest company that dealt in the production of medical equipment. An investor of tech startups in the Republics and the Union. An advocate for intra-galactic exploration of undiscovered species and conservation.
Not much was found, or rather, not much of interest. But what was mildly interesting was the information concerning the Naraius family. A Great House, if one that was often overlooked, weirdly enough. They were a family that dealt in a number of interests, with no real specialization like the rest of the Great Houses. A somewhat oddity amongst their peers. The interest did not last long as nearly every asari Councilor came from one of these Houses.
But the biggest disappointment was not in her background or achievements—but with her appearance. She was but average in height, looks, and, from what many could conclude from her background, intelligence as well. To say there was a great deal of disappointment. Not even Treeya T'fey, the Councilor herself who nominated her, came to her defense. When questioned about her choice, she merely dazzled them with her beautiful smile, and followed it up with a simple, "I trust in her abilities to represent the asari people faithfully," before she moved on.
At least, to the salarians, there was a sigh of relief. A mediocre representative was rife for…proper guidance, after all.
Her inauguration was modest in comparison to past Councilors. Don't get it wrong, it was still a cause for celebration (to the asari), but the feeling had a sort of formality to it, rather than the wild enthusiasm it would usually garner. Oddly enough, the only High Matriarch to attend her inauguration was her mother, Alufreya Nariaus.
Notable in the fact that it was a ritual to at least have three of the High Matriarchs to attend such an event.
But that still leaves us the question: Who is Tevos Naraius?
Just a figure of average looks, achievement, and presence? One destined for mediocrity?
You see, up to that point, the general public had the right of it. Every analysis and dossier that passed the desk of some important figure reported the same.
It was only a few days later, after the quick return to normalcy, that things would change.
Proposing legislation that turned heads. Restructuring subcommittees that had remained the same for millennia. Contacting and establishing relations with aggressive, non-state actors. The formal acknowledgment and accusation of the slave trade and how it was enabled by the batarians. The firing and replacement of over 2/3rds the asari staff that worked under her.
All in the first three days.
Such drastic changes were uncharacteristic to the long-viewed asari, who tend to take their time when dealing with many grandstanding matters.
But what was really shocking was how her fellow Councilors agreed to a lot of her propositions.
To the turians, they were proposals they had advocated since the beginning of their promotion as a council member. Ones that the asari and salarian Councilors both historically disagreed upon, thanks to their respective government's disapproval. Such actions had earned her praise and admiration from the Hierarchy overnight.
To the salarians, she not only maneuvered the salarian Councilor with back-door threats and public offerings of long-sought-after tech exchanges (to their even greater surprise of an acquiescing Chamber of Matriarchs), but she achieved something not even Councilor Treeya had in her long tenure—a grudging respect as an equal.
But popularity amongst here peers was merely a step.
Though she could not compete with her predecessor in looks, she went the alternative route.
Speeches. Interviews. A graceful personality that leveled with the average asari in such a way that was endearing. And yet, there was a poise to her movement. An almost naturally fluidity that created an ethereal quality behind every step. Her compassion coupled with her words was one that enraptured her audience, one that made them feel better about themselves as she spoke of common plights politicians of her position rarely engage in.
To say her popularity shot amongst nearly every level of society was an understatement.
Such actions did not go unnoticed to the Union.
Thus, did her competency and cleverness solidify her reputation in the form of a sobriquet: the asari dalatrass.
A figure underestimated for all the right reasons—until she wasn't.
And in the background of all those reassessing this new figure in politics stood a slow clapping Alufreya Nariaus, grinning widely in motherly content.
Her hand was limp on the glass table. The orange glow of her omni-tool softly illuminated the dark living room of her apartment. On full display was the priority message from Selica tying it all together.
She read the contents of the message once more, the words feeling like oil in her throat.
"Mother is dead."
Her eyes were glazed, and yet, no tears fell.
The new head of the Naraius family brought the edge of the wine glass to her lips, only to realize that she'd emptied it—and the bottle—some time ago.
"She's finally dead, huh…" placing the wineglass back down with a soft clink.
"She's... finally dead," she repeated in a whisper.
The edges of her lips were upturned until a soft giggle escaped. Then a chuckle. Until hollow laughter echoed in the empty apartment. Lights of distant vehicles streamed in the distance, like beams of flickering light, making the shadows dance to the dead craze that filled the living room.
A cold hand covered her eyes, stifling the wetness that was breaking through.
But her smile never left even as the laughter settled. Tevos Naraius was now one step closer to being the most powerful figure in the galaxy.
Mom... Dad... I've done it.
Now, all she had to do was wait. Wait for that crazy bitch to die of old age. Or, goddess willing, see that lunatic assassinated.
She could probably pull a few strings here or there to speed up the process.
And in all honesty? She may have too.
The Councilor chuckled once more at that line of thought.
So then why? She wondered.
Why did she feel so…
...hollow?
To her own dismay, laughter turned to choking sobs, a cry unfamiliar in her own voice.
Was it all worth it…? A child-like whisper in her mind asked.
She slowly lowered her hand down to look around her, repressing the fits of laughter and sobs through practiced breathing techniques.
The living room was devoid of light, except for the oddly sickening glow of her omni-tool.
Asari and humans shared a particular belief—one's own living space was a reflection of who they are.
There was a sparseness she was only now noticing in the space of her living room. Once, she thought the furnishing was tastefully minimalistic, now all she saw was emptiness.
The matriarch tapped her omni-tool off and pushed herself up from her seat, wanting to get away from it. Bare feet touched the cold floor as she walked to her bedroom only to sit on the mattress.
A shaking hand dug under a pillow—searching—until her fingers grasped what she was looking for.
It was warm to the touch—as if it had been sitting out in the sun for hours. The silver finish of the chain lay sprawled on her hand. The twinkle of the cityscape's light that filtered through her bedroom window shimmered the jewel with an ethereal, crimson glow.
The ruby pendant was one of a kind. Long, dead memories of a salarian placing it in her hands came rushing to her mind. His calloused hands took hold of her small, dainty ones and helped her clasp it tight.
Fingers, now aged and weary, held the ruby pendant close to her chest. Even now, the eternal warmth that emanated from the scarlet jewel revitalized her heart and soul.
"ᵂᵃˢ ᶦᵗ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ᶦᵗ?"
She jumped, her head jerking up. Wide eyes darted from space to space.
She swore she heard something. Someone.
But… there was nothing. It was just her, residing in the inky blackness of her bedroom.
Moments ticked away and with a relieved sigh, shook her head with a smirk. The stress of the day must be getting to her.
She put the ruby pendant back under the pillow and stretched her long arms before heading to the living room to clean up.
With an elegant gesture, the matriarch picked the empty wine glass up from the translucent table and turned towards the kitchen.
She was not one to dwell, finding it a waste of time. But sometimes, circumstances forced one to at least reflect. And ghosts of the past can act as reminders of more innocent days.
"Lights on," she spoke out loud.
But there was nothing.
The matriarch paused in her stride, noticing the wisps of vapor emanating from her breath.
"Lights on," she repeated, tersely.
Again, nothing.
The matriarch stilled, waiting for some kind of response, then took a deep and long sigh, turning away from the kitchen and towards the entrance instead. Her light steps brought her in front of the pad that controlled various functions of her abode. Gingerly, she lifted her free hand over the dial but right before her fingertips made contact—the lights flashed on.
All of them.
Tevos felt her breath hitch, nearly dropping the wineglass.
"Perhaps it's just the VI acting up…?" she mumbled slowly to herself as she brought down her hand.
Turning, she headed back towards the kitchen, trying to shake the feeling away.
Placing the wineglass in the sink, noticed how unused it was. The last time she had to clean a dish was some time ago, she mused.
Eating out constantly probably wasn't good for one's health. Even if they were from the finest restaurants.
Her hand paused over the dial of the faucet.
If anything, how long had it been since she's stayed in this apartment?
As a member of the Council, she was always busy enough that she basically lived and breathed work. Enough that she even had a hidden bedroom made to connect directly to her office.
The Councilor frowned at the thought.
She didn't even remember the last time she was here. At this apartment.
Tevos turned the faucet on—only for black muck to gush out instead.
She screamed and stumbled back. The wineglass shattered on the floor. The matriarch's heart was beating like a drum; her eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief.
But all she saw was just water.
"Wha–" she breathed out.
She looked back and forth from the shattered glass to the clear water flowing freely from the faucet.
.
.
.
"What, in Athame, was that...?"
Azalea Rais was worried.
She plopped bonelessly on her chair, overlooking the distant lights of air traffic over the Presidium river. As the captain of her lady's personal guard, her own room was placed just across the hall from the matriarch's, with the rest of the guard living in rooms below them.
The apartment itself was as nondescript as any other here in the Presidium: a gated community, known famously as the Silver City. A community for the prestigious, protected by both the C-Sec's Special Response Unit and a number of elite guards from their various wealthy charges. With all this wealth and prestige concentrated in one area, there was no wonder this community was one of the first to recover from the Siege.
But one of the most prominent reasons why the area had prospered so quickly was because of Lady Tevos's tireless effort.
This woman of grace and power, admired by those around her...was off.
Though their personal interaction remained minimal and professional throughout all these centuries, she had learned enough of the matriarch. Her patterns. Her routines. Her behavior.
But from these last past few days alone, she had broken away from centuries worth of procedure that it was a bit worrying.
No, that wasn't the most accurate term. She had seen this same change in the past within the 40 years she worked as a Councilor: the introduction of humanity.
A sigh exited the matron's lips. She rested her chin into her hand, propped on the armrest of her chair.
Her recent reflection towards the nature of her relationship with her lady revealed some troubling insights—for as long as she had known for Lady Tevos, there was surprisingly little she actually knew of her. Not just in her routines and behavior, but in why she made these choices. Sure, she could assume and make conclusions all she wants, but that doesn't reach the heart of the matter—did she really know who she was?
She had thought that her icy exterior she only revealed outside the company was her true self. One developed over the years with the many experiences she had to deal with throughout her career. It's in these past few days when she shed bits and pieces of this that revealed an aspect about her lady she had never seen.
It wasn't like she thought the matriarch was inherently cold, far from it, but rather her kindness and compassion could only be seen by her actions and how much she shook the system up.
"Would anyone really care, huh…?"
The matron ran a rough hand over her crest.
Admittedly, Lady Tevos was not the sort of conventional beauty that would attract a following but there was more to her than what can be seen at the water's surface. Through her own understanding of matriarch Tevos, she had come to admire her strength as well as understand the difference between character and the policy she proposes.
The commando pouted.
Perhaps her lady was experiencing what the humans called 'burnout?'
Azalea had to do something. She, at least, owed her that much, if not just for dutys' sake.
Besides, this could be an opportune time to get to know her a little better.
Maybe take her out to eat?
The matriarch does have a fascination with exotic foods from what she's seen.
Yeah, that sounds good, she grinned.
"I know this is a bit informal, but… thanks for having lunch with me."
Tevos Naraius "smiled" through her phase mask, noticing the particular types of people dining around them. The Ichiban was one of the first spots to reopen, with many of its neighboring shops in the middle of reconstruction. It had attracted the weary and the destitute alike in the beginning until word of mouth had brought in an influx of patrons to its little shop. Of all the businesses here, the Ichiban was one of the few that actually benefited from the Siege, though she'd guess that the owner would seldom admit that.
She was surprised, to say the least, when she woke up to Azalea's message: a request to have lunch with her. Normally, she would be up at her normal time of 7 AM, beginning her day with some light reading over some non-priority reports with the vidscreen on the news channel for background noise.
But this break of routine…was nice.
"I should thank you. I admit, I don't normally go out to places like this, but I realize that maybe it was time that I…expand…my palate, so to speak."
Azalea didn't exactly know how to take what she meant with 'places like this,' but she was glad she approved of her choice in the restaurant.
"Ladies," a human with an all-too-common smirk said. He laid down a steamy bowl in front of the Councilor, "Tonkatsu ramen with one extra seasoned egg for the pretty one," pausing to give a slight nod and wink to her, "And one tsukmen with extra broth on the side for the loud one," setting down the other for her companion.
Azalea rolled her eyes at the waiter, "Thanks for the compliment, Richard."
The man laughed, giving them a deep and dramatic bow. "I live to serve, ladies. Enjoy."
Tevos felt amused and no less surprised by the interaction. In contrast, she was more used to the fake pleasantries and gossip of those in her own social standing.
That isn't to say Azalea was less exposed than she was, being her personal guard and all, but she would have never guessed how comfortable the commando would be with people like that.
"A friend?"
"A–ah, no," the matron smiled embarrassingly. "Just someone I often see when I come here."
"Sounds like a friend to me."
A slight purplish hue appeared on the younger's face, as she turned her attention to the bowl.
"So this," the matron pointed, changing the subject, "is what's called 'ramen,' a human delicacy from Earth. And you don't eat this with a human-styled spoon or fork, you use th–"
The matriarch smirked, and took the chopsticks without hesitation, surprising the matron. Expertly, she picked the noodles from the bowl, as if she had done this numerous times in the past.
"Oh, so I guess you've had, uh, ramen before, my lady?"
Tevos softly slurped the noodles up, somehow making the act look more elegant than it had no right to be, then smiled politely.
"No," she replied. "This is my first time."
The matriarch laughed inwardly at Azalea's surprised expression. She could say that the whole trip was worth it just for seeing that face alone.
But honestly? The food was amazing.
She didn't lie to Azalea. This really was her first time having ramen. But being a Councilor, and with the relative newness of the humans arriving at the galactic scene, she took it upon herself to read as much as she could on their various cultures, history, and politics.
Rule of thumb? Food and manners were always the first things one must learn if they were to better understand a species or a culture.
But that was beside the point. Yes, this was her first time, but she knew exactly what ramen was. Long before Azalea—or anyone else in the galaxy—had.
Tevos swirled the noodles in the broth.
She should have been more excited over this.
This was something that was long overdue. Of a conversation from long ago.
But she couldn't bring herself to fully enjoy it.
Perhaps it was because she knew exactly why Azalea took her out to eat in the first place.
For all her social savvy, she didn't know how to classify Azalea. Was she just Captain Azalea Rais, the (in)famous Shield of Tevos? A colleague, perhaps? A hapless girl she took into her service without a second thought?
Or was she a friend…?
Their relationship was something to reconsider. She was not one to think hard about something like this, but the past week had been…different.
But she was Tevos Naraius, the soon-to-be High Matriarch of House Naraius, and Councilor of the Republics. She had an image to retain.
She rubbed her arms, feeling cold despite the warmth of the ramen.
"Lady Tevos…?"
She schooled her features. All this thinking was getting tiresome.
The matriarch looked up from her bowl of noodles to the person across the table from her.
"Yes?"
Azalea's gaze was to her meal as well, but her thoughts were elsewhere; her hands placed squarely on the table.
"I…"
Tevos waited patiently, placing the chopsticks down gently.
"Lady Tevos..."
Her eyes wandered from left to right, unfocused. Struggling.
"About yesterday..."
She could see how much she struggled with expressing her feelings through words. To the other person from across the table, she did what she did best, and reached out to lay a hand on top of hers.
The matron, shocked, finally looked up, their gazes connecting as the undue pressures of the world seemingly left her shoulders.
"I just... I just wanted to say… that if you ever need to talk that I, um, I'm always here."
A practiced smile appeared on her face. Not too wide, not too shallow. Just right, to get the intent across.
They were words the matriarch had heard often enough. From those who had hidden agendas. To family arranged bondmate candidates. To "friends." To—
"If you ever need to talk, Little One, I will always be here."
Yes, she had heard those words often.
But this one...
Perhaps this one was different.
"This may be out of place but I…I only wish to see you well," Azalea continued, feeling more emboldened. "I know things haven't been easy since the Geth attack, and with work piling up more and more…! I just wanted to let you know that I'm..." she swallowed, "I'm here."
The matriarch eyed her for a moment longer…and looked away, pulling her hand back.
When was the last time she had confided in someone else?
Not since…
"If you ever need anything, just…"
"…hit me up. My doors are always open."
Violet eyes widened as she slowly looked up to the person across the table. To the voice that had just spoken.
"What…did you just say…?" she whispered.
"Mom, dad, I've done!" Azalea suddenly yelled, throwing her arms in the air. An unnatural and surreal moment indeed. Because that was not her voice, no that was...
"Is that…me?"
"Another glass, ma'am?"
Tevos looked around, only to find herself back in that dark abode. Back in Flux.
And standing across from her, waiting patiently for an answer was...
What is going on?
"Oh, you know…"
Speak of the devil.
And he shall come.
Tevos looked down at her hand: a glass of scotch. On the rocks.
And it was cold.
"Go on. Say it," the server grinned, leaning down with her red hair.
"Say what?"
"What you would have said. To her, and to her."
"I don't…I don't know what you're talking about."
Somehow, her grin grew wider.
"Ah, but my lady!" she cried out with arms in the air. "You always knew what to say. Isn't that why she/she was willing to reach out to you? Why she caaaaared."
She's different now. She was…
"Isn't that what I've—"
"—taught you?"
I looked up to her. So tall and imposing. But I knew there was something wrong.
She was my mother now, and she said she would make me…whole.
I didn't know what that meant.
I didn't know why she chose me.
But I nodded. And smiled.
I had to.
For her.
"Oh, Little One..."
I'm not scared.
I'm not scared.
I'm not scared.
"It's okay to be scared," she said, crouching down to eye-level. She smiled, the pearly whites of her pristine teeth set upon an unblinking face.
"But I promise, I will take care of you—protect you," she said.
"You will never have to go hungry again," she said.
"If you ever need to talk, Little One, I—"
"—got your back," she laughed.
And I smiled. But not like I always did.
"Are you sure? From my end, it looks like I was always the one that had yours."
"And our award-winning actress finally shows her true self!" the turian quipped.
I pouted and looked away. But my smile never left my face.
"I just never had a good reason to smile, idiot."
"You don't need a good reason to smile, Tevos honey. You just…do it."
If turians could grin, she would definitely be doing just that.
"You damn tease."
"Ah ha! Just like that!"
"Shut up," I laughed.
"Heh, but I mean it," her voice going soft. "If you ever need anything, just hit me up. My doors are always open."
"Thanks, ███████," I gently voiced.
"Ooh, is the ice queen finally warming up?" she teased once more.
"Oh, hush, you. Maybe one day I'll—"
"—be there with you. No matter what happens."
He softly cupped my cheek, his hand stained with my tears and his blood.
I didn't understand why he was here.
He wasn't supposed to.
Mother said to forget about him.
But I…
He took my hand, weakly uncurling it—and placed an unfamiliar pendant in my hand.
"If it ever feels like it's too much, that pendant will be your guide."
"███!"...I cried out. I didn't want to forget.
I didn't want to lose him.
All I wanted was…
"Remember…to smile. I'm 41 years old. An ancient of my kind. But you…have a bright future ahead of you. So smile for me. Smile and know that I—"
"̴̾͜—̷͚̆w̶̢͋i̵͎͛l̴̕ͅḻ̵̄ ̶̰͑a̵͕͐l̴͍͝ẅ̸̖́ą̴͒ŷ̷̹ś̴̘ ̷̻͗l̵̻̎o̴̝̽v̵͔̋e̷̟͂ ̶͚̇y̶̺̋o̸͈̊u̵̓ͅ.̵̇ͅ"̷̬̓
No. Stop. Please.
A cacophony of voices. Of a past left in the dark.
To forget…was a salve. To forget…was my only choice.
The glass shattered in her hands and a rationale part of her worried.
But it wasn't so.
When she brought her tightened fist up, she uncurled it.
Only to see a crushed flower in her hand.
O̷͈̘͗͂h̵͉͇̻̗͎͒̍̋̇̐͂,̴̯̻̙̜́͑͂ ̸͎͈̦͔̐̒͛̕Ḽ̶̤̲͇̖̫́i̵͖͠t̴̛̬̥͝͝t̴̻̖̗̻̀͆̀̿̓͊ĺ̸̛͔̰̑̂́̇e̵̬̭͇͝ ̶̦̈́̃̿Ọ̵̧̥͚̬͍̉̔̔͝͠n̸̻̺̈̂̈́̊ẽ̶̦͓̹̖́̃͆̀,̸̲͍̙͖͚̲̓͋͊ ̷͚̥̰̎̈́͆̀̿ý̶͔͉̝̫̜̳̒̅o̸̟̜̭͗͘͝u̸̦̭̔̋͗͋̽͜͠ ̴̨̬̣͍̰̌á̴̛̬̅̑̒̚͜ḽ̴̞͍̙̞̅͛͌̿̏̾w̸̨͓̳̒̔̌͆̀a̴͚̳͔͓͌͐͒͒̾ỳ̵̮̰͙͖͆̓̿ṡ̷̠̰̺̲̯̓̅ ̸̤̰̩̳̜͋̏̒̆̋̚h̷̯̪̫͌́a̷̗͈̩̟͛d̷̤̙͒̐̋̐ ̷̨̯̯̺͉̾̓̋a̴͇̳̎̂̾͋ ̷̧̩͍͉̝͖̀͂̀͝ĉ̷͈̤̱͕͔̝h̴̩͒̌̾̈́o̸̦͑̄̓̓̋̎i̷̲̽͆c̵̞͙͖̫̺̠͌̉͝͠e̴̟̿̂̆̀̈́͠.̷̫̉
"No
"NO
"NO!"
Tevos couldn't take it.
In fury and in fear, she screamed, jumping back as she glowed a phantasmal blue. And with a powerful flare of her biotics—she Pushed.
It only took her a couple of moments to realize the glass that was around her. But it was the upturn of gravity and the midnight skyline encompassing her wide view that told her the rest.
She never left her apartment. She never made it to lunch with Azalea. And in her fit of madness and hysteria, clarity hit her like a slap to the face.
Tevos... was falling. Falling from her balcony of the 16th floor, the peak of her ivory tower—and broken from whatever nightmare she was under.
Her face was frozen in a state of shock, but with her life flashing before her eyes, the shards of glass were like glistening stars reflecting the ever-restless lights of the Citadel backdrop.
And they were beautiful. Whether it was the stars above or the glass, it never once mattered to her.
But now, all she could do was reach out. A desperation that was either born out of reflex or something more...
Biotics! J-Just use biotics to lessen the impact—! I-If I just time it right—
.
.
.
No.
Faces of shock and betrayal. Eyes filled with tears. And the blood…of so many others. All in her hands.
Perhaps...she was right.
Tevos Naraius had finally come to an understanding that night. In her arrogance, she thought the false wings she had spent her whole life crafting would be enough.
That if she had the strength and belief, even someone like her...
...could grab hold of the stars.
She clenched her eyes, finally realizing how much of her life was a lie.
.
.
.
And so, destiny plays its hand.
.
.
.
There comes a point, you see, where fate comes breaking through. Whether it was under the grace of the gods or the whimsy of the devil, fate finds a way.
The priceless pendant gripped tightly in her left hand was left forgotten. Even so, she still reached out. Filled with doubt and self-pity built from the slick blood of the past, all she could do was cry in her arrogance. But she still reached out.
Glimmers of light that lead us to a better tomorrow, filling us with the faith that it will always get better.
So with a memento of a father's love clutched tightly in her hand, and the other desperately reaching out towards those distant lights—
—fate answered once more.
A familiar hand from long ago grasped hers, the unexpected touch forcing her eyes to open in shock and wonder.
His appearance was like the stories of myth and legend—heroism defined by the circumstances set by destiny. Dressed in crimson red, with pants of onyx black, and hair of snow-white, memories from long ago came to life.
She was someone to be saved, and he, like always, was someone to save. It was only natural that her fingers intertwined with his. But despite this hallowed scene and the impossibility of it all, there was only one thing that she could focus on.
His hand…
...it's warm.
Author's Note—
Thank you for reading! First chapters are always the hardest but I've managed to get through it with a crossover I've always wanted to do for a long time. If it isn't apparent by now, this is an AU.
Added Note—
Partially rewritten as of March 21st, 2022
Power is control
Power is everything
But to those blinded by it, they cannot see that
Power…
…is a cycle.
– Shadow Broker
Page 1
The glass was cold in her hands.
And in the darkness—she sat.
Flux was its name. A newly opened nightclub amongst the wreckages of a recovering Citadel. Above, she watched those below dance with an almost fervor embrace, giving themselves to the hard-bass notes that rumbled the very ground they stood on.
And oh, did they dance—enraptured by the raven-sewn darkness of the venue.
Tevos Naraius was never one to find the club scene 'her thing,' but with recent...unfortunate...events, she found herself enjoying the atmosphere nevertheless.
She could see herself amongst them. Dancing and moving—with not a solitary care for the world.
But she would have to get down to their level first.
She scoffed.
The glass crinkled as she sipped the last of her scotch.
Humans really do make some fine drinks.
She stretched her arms out, admiring the navy blue halter dress that was all but shoved to her face. The matriarch chuckled at the memory. A young human that resembled much of her own kind's maidens, and an up-and-coming fashion designer to boot. For her to seek her out amongst the crowd of celebrities and dignitaries at the Vogue Gala was a feat of itself.
"It's fine! The exposure from someone as illustrious as you wearing it is all the payment I need," she squealed, right before getting dragged off by security.
Of course, she wasn't cruel enough to just let that happen. And hopefully, she'd see that young human in a billboard sign one day.
An investment, if one could call it that.
Humans.
"Another glass, ma'am?"
Speak of the devil.
Eyes caught the lower half of the server's very asari form before trailing up only to meet the inquisitive gaze of the server's very blue, exotic eyes.
They look so much like us.
"Ma'am…?"
"Ah," she blinked, "yes, please."
The alien woman nodded with a bright smile, her red hair bounced with the gesture before she left with her empty glass.
Eyes lingered from where she was. The genuine flair for life was evident in her every movement. The jounce in the woman's step made her feel...older…than she actually was.
She huffed at the thought and leaned her head back, eyes closed as she felt the velvet cushion conform around her crest.
Flux was an oasis. In these turbulent times, even a krogan could see just from watching the people alone that it was desperately needed.
But even illusions have their limits and eventually, life, with all her cruelty, would come barging in. Something they all must confront.
As is her.
The leader amongst the masses. With all the false cheer and decisions attached behind an impeccable face.
She sighed.
When did she start thinking that way?
Perhaps Councilor Valern or Sparatus would allow her to take a vacation? Only for a year—or ten.
Tevos snorted at the thought.
She would sooner trust a vorcha than leave those two in charge for any amount of time. Such as Valern, the mouthpiece. Or the pragmatic, but incredibly narrow Sparatus.
No. If the people were to regain their faith in the Council—it had to be her.
She sighed once more, closing her eyes.
A cold shudder ran down her spine. Habitual fingers reached for the empty spot where her drink was but a moment ago.
She pursed her "lips."
Suddenly, the door to her VIP lounge slid open, turning her attention away from dark memories.
"There you are."
Aaaand there goes my hiding spot.
With another sigh, she pulled her hand back and straightened her back, blinking questionably at her visitor.
"Do you have my drink?" she asked with an innocent head-tilt.
Her guest scrunched her brows at the words, a gloved hand pressed against her hip. Her black, form-fitting one-piece showcased a slender, but toned figure. A figure crafted from the rigors of intense training. And if anyone were to doubt her qualifications, they need but look down—to the small of her back.
A short warp blade, hardly noticeable to the casual viewer, but noticeable enough to those who knew where to look.
Normally, the club wouldn't have allowed someone so lethally armed to enter the premises, but she was a special exception.
Or rather, it was the emblem on her upper arm that caused them to look away. Even the dark rapture of the nightclub couldn't hide the gleam of the White Aegis.
"Lady Tevos…!" her new guest almost whined in exasperation.
The edges of the matriarch's "lips" quirked in a subtle and amused smile. Cute.
"Who?"
The commando sighed. "I know that's you, my lady. It's not hard for me to see through your phase mask."
Her "lips" curled up further into a smile. "A jest, Azalea," she chuckled softly. "Now then, what brings you here?"
The matron almost glared, crossing her arms. "Why else, madam? I'm the captain of your guard. Where you go—I go. Especially out in the open. You nearly gave everyone a heart attack when you suddenly disappeared on us after your session today."
"I only went out for a drink," she looked away. "And besides, the geth are gone, Azalea. No one here is going to kill me."
Her personal guard unfolded her arms, chewing her lower lip before speaking up. "Maybe, but you can't just leave without—!"
"I can't go out on my own without asking for permission?" she looked back, her expression icy.
"I…my lady…" Azalea fumbled, suddenly remembering her position.
Tevos sighed, causing the matron to quiet down. "Forgive me, Azalea," she breathed out. "It has been a long day. That's all."
The matron's look softened a touch but she remained silent.
After a moment, the matriarch gestured for her to take a seat and in relative silence, she did. The music rumbled in the foreground. The older asari leaned back against the couch once more, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling of the nightclub.
The matriarch sensed her hesitation but simply ignored it. Instead, choosing to enjoy the silence.
The commando leaned in, studying her lady's "face."
It was impressive.
The customized STG phase mask the Councilor wore morphed her appearance to that of an average-looking person. It did it far better than any standard model she's seen. Especially with how the light bounced off of the holographic texture and detail woven into its design. It was realistic enough to weather intense scrutiny, even by drell and salarian eyes.
Though, she did wonder if it worked just as well against scanners and augments.
"Azalea."
"Yes, my lady?"
Her eyes were to the ceiling—piercing and poignant.
The commando followed her gaze—and gasped. The sight nearly took her breath away.
If that phase mask was the bleeding edge of nanite-induced holograms, then the image above was its potential realized on a macro scale.
Constellations and twinkling lights. Shooting stars and distant galaxies. A simulacrum of the heavens made exacting through the pinnacle of modern, man-made engineering.
Flux spared no expense to give its patrons what they wanted. And in that fantasy, she was tempted to reach out; to grab hold of a star just to see if it was possible.
"Do you think anyone would really care," a voice tender and soft, "if I just vanished?"
She blinked incredulously and slowly, turned to her.
The subtle wrinkles. The longing gaze. The empty smile.
For that brief second—the illusion faded.
"Lady…Tevos…?"
A soft grin graced her "lips."
"It's nothing. Just a bit of alcohol getting to me."
She knew it wasn't just 'nothing,' but she lowered her head regardless, having no words for her, once more.
"O-oh, by the way," the commando quickly segued, "you should turn your omni-tool on. Lady Nassana's been trying to get a hold of you for some time. Something to do with going over some important documents."
The matriarch gave an amused smile to her blunt change of topics but went along with it.
Back to business then.
Councilor Tevos Naraius peeked down at her wrist and tapped the silver-colored bracelet she had on. She felt the slight heat of the device warming up. Almost instantly, thirteen priority messages popped up on the orange haptic screen. Four from Azalea, eight from Nassana, and curiously enough—one from Selica.
Her violet eyes glanced up to her commando who just shrugged.
The Councilor looked back at the screen, a hand hovering over Selica's message before she pulled back, fingers clasping into a fist.
She can wait.
Letting out a deep sigh, she stood.
"It looks like my little vacation is nearing its end. Let us go," she smiled, "my Captain."
"Yes, my lady," and trailed her like a shadow.
Well, this place was fun while it lasted.
It's too bad. She rather liked Flux. It's hard enough finding the time for herself, let alone mingle in public without getting swarmed by reporters and such.
The doors chimed and opened, revealing the surprised look of the redheaded human waitress from earlier. In her hand was a trey, balancing an ice-cold glass of scotch she had long forgotten.
"You would deny the hallowed words of the Enkindlers?"
The human priest schooled his features and straightened the edges of his rob. "I do not deny the wisdom or deeds of the great Enkindlers, only the nature that you claim them to be."
"And yet, their works are proof of their divinity. While, I mean no offense, the vague existence of your Father is barely tangible through the stories that, curiously enough, only humanity has shared. Unlike the Enkindlers, whose divine and very tangible works aided in creating the very society we are blessed with today."
Subtly, she watched the pair through the outlines of passing passersby, deliberately slowing her gait to listen to what they were saying.
"That may be, but your perspective is limited, fellow preacher! A wise man once said that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, and I have no doubt that as great as the Enkindlers are, they were as mortal as you and I. What is the essence of the divine if it were to rely on lowly means such as 'technology'? Our Father, on the other hand, does not base his works on the advancements of tools, but through the miracles he performs!" he boasted with zeal.
The gleam of his cross was apparent for all to see.
"Did you know, fellow preacher? That every race so far had recordings similar to the stories of our Father in the Bible? Figures of worship that had somehow developed independently before any of the current races interacted with one another. The drell Lucent, the salarian Ivektor, the elcor All-Seeing, as well as the asari's famous Athame. They all share similar traits and stories, written in scriptures my own people have preached about for thousands of years."
"And I must remind you, wise priest, that there is a difference between something being similar and something being the same," the hanar preacher chastised. "The differences between all these mythological figures you bring up are too large a gulf to imply that they are the same being. You are arguing narratives against very tangible works, after all. And the concept of a miracle is not unique to any one culture, because no matter the similarities you see between these old gods—they are merely coincidental."
The human priest's grin was almost savage, an expression that was oddly fitting on his face. "Ah, but you forget, fellow preacher. In our line of work—there are no such things as coincidences."
Councilor Tevos was left amused that the hanar preachers had finally met their match with the human priests. Although, the crowds, as always, did their best to ignore their squabble like they once had with the hanar preachers throughout the centuries.
But she didn't mind it. It was part of the Citadel's charm, after all.
This was once a daily routine for her. Before her fame, before the recognition, finding herself lost in an ocean of people had always put her mind at ease.
Prim and proper asari, energetic and calculating salarians, stoic and respectful turians; even while undergoing repairs, there was no end to those who graced the silver roads of the Presidium.
But a hand on her shoulder suddenly snapped her away from her musings, quickly pulling her back. A giggling asari child narrowly bumped into her as she ran from her chaser.
A salarian quickly followed, "Apologies, ma'am!" he blurted out, before dashing after the giggling child. "Katriss! Get back here!"
"Are you okay, my lady?" Azalea whispered, letting go.
"I am well," she frowned. Her gaze followed the pair as the assumed child's father finally caught up to her.
Eyes lingered, taking in every detail of their embrace before she felt a tug in her chest.
Perhaps I should get another drink at the apartment.
But as she pulled herself away from the scene, a glimpse of something else caught her attention.
It was in the crowds—at the other end of the overarching bridge. A human—
No…it can't be.
Before she knew it, the Councilor found herself sprinting, shoving aside person after person. Years of carefully crafted grace and elegance were quickly left behind.
Some saw her coming and moved aside, startled by her frantic sprint. Others were pushed, a squawk from an older turian barely registering in her senses, but nothing in her eyes mattered more than the figure at the other end of this bridge.
Wait, wait!
But he kept moving forward, deaf to her silent pleas.
Please, dammit, just WAIT—!
Faster and faster she ran in a haze, her breath growing wild and uncontrolled.
It had always been like this. No matter how far she ran, she could never catch up.
But almost like a miracle, her outstretched hand reached him.
Time seemed to slow as he turned to her—but something was wrong.
A pair of surprised and confused eyes met her desperate ones and instantly she realized who it was.
Or, rather, who it was not.
"Um, yes…?" the stranger asked, confused.
She let go, as if touching something hot, and stumbled back, breathing heavily.
Tevos took more steps back as she stared at him in disbelief, catching her breath. Slowly, she was beginning to notice the growing crowd of people gathering around them.
Quickly, she bowed deeply to the human, burning with shame.
"Madam!" Azalea's frantic voice finally caught up from behind.
"I… I had mistaken you for someone I knew. Please, accept my apology," she breathed out, bowing low to hide her deep shade of purple.
The human man felt lost with the sudden appearance of this strange asari but gave out a strained smile. "Oh, it's okay! I…I hope you find who you're looking for."
She looked up, her heart still pounding in her chest, but tried hard to gather up a modicum of dignity. "Thank you," she smiled.
"Well, then. Have a good day, miss."
He gave a demurred bow of his head before he turned and walked away, obviously flustered.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
She watched him go once more.
Like a distant memory. Of longing and regret.
Unheeded to the worried gaze of the captain in black.
To the sidelong glances from the people around her.
To the thundering beats of her heart.
In her lingering gaze, she ignored it all.
But even when she knew the man walking away was just a stranger she mistook, she couldn't ignore him.
The stranger dressed in a jacket of crimson red.
The stranger dressed in slacks of onyx black.
The stranger with hair…
...of snow-white.
Who is Tevos Naraius?
To answer that question, one must look back—to 40 years ago.
Many would say that 40 years is a long time, but to the asari, it's merely a blink in their eyes.
When the widely popular Treeya T'fey announced her retirement, it set the galaxy aflame.
A celebrated politician, if but a rare one in modern times.
To the turians, she was pivotal in relaxing tensions between the Separatists and the Hierarchy as well as advocating for sapient rights for the non-turian Hierarchy citizens.
To the salarians, she was viewed as a leading figure for a woman's right to choose their partners, as well as the go-to person for quelling any disputes between the Chamber of Matriarchs and the leaders of the Union.
But to the asari, however, she was the closest thing to an actual saint. Beautiful, intelligent, and capable. She had seen the asari through the Krogan rebellions and the Geth uprising with a poise and grace that garnered admiration throughout the Republics.
An honored Mother Superior for the Order of Athame.
A receiver of the prestigious Medal of Eternal Glory.
And the formal ambassador to Illium.
Countless were her admirers throughout the years, and too numerous were here rewards. As such, she became a staple in Council politics, but more so, to the cameras of the galaxy.
So, who was next in line to succeed such a beloved figure?
Who was next, in the countless billions throughout the galaxy, to take up the mantle of their representative?
Would it be Estra T'haana, the cool beauty that could match wits with the snarkiest salarians? Or how about Ala'fae L'tanius, a figure that exuded the stern, yet caring 'older sibling' type? Perhaps it would be Y'sidra Beyfor, a petite, and soft-spoken cutie that beguiled her sharp instincts.
Whoever it would be, it would make headlines regardless. You see, the impact of Treeya T'fey's effect on the office of asari Councilor could not be understated. She brought a level of grace and style that would become a staple to the position. While these traits aren't unique to famous figures, her being a politician made it special. As such, the office not only demanded competency but a certain look that could turn heads and motivate others to pay attention just a little bit harder. That isn't to say that the other two Great Powers had their own criteria, as to them, the asari Councilor's appearance was crucial for their role as the foremost diplomat amongst the three.
So, to say that the reveal came as a surprise was an understatement. Nearly every prediction that came to pass, from entertainment channel polls, to the VI predicting algorithims of the salarians, to think-tank groups within the Hierarchy—had got it all wrong.
Tevos Naraius of the obscure Naraius family...was chosen. A mere member of Treeya's diplomatic team, she was elevated to one of the group leaders during the latter stages of Treeya's tenure.
Nearly every person who at least had a casual interest in the news suddenly went searching for any tidbit of information they could locate about her. But even their findings were lackluster. And that was a lot of people.
A former CEO of a modest company that dealt in the production of medical equipment. An investor of tech startups in the Republics and the Union. An advocate for intra-galactic exploration of undiscovered species and conservation.
Not much was found, or rather, not much of interest. But what was mildly interesting was the information concerning the Naraius family. A Great House, if one that was often overlooked, weirdly enough. They were a family that dealt in a number of interests, with no real specialization like the rest of the Great Houses. A somewhat oddity amongst their peers. The interest did not last long as nearly every asari Councilor came from one of these Houses.
But the biggest disappointment was not in her background or achievements—but with her appearance. She was but average in height, looks, and, from what many could conclude from her background, intelligence as well. To say there was a great deal of disappointment. Not even Treeya T'fey, the Councilor herself who nominated her, came to her defense. When questioned about her choice, she merely dazzled them with her beautiful smile, and followed it up with a simple, "I trust in her abilities to represent the asari people faithfully," before she moved on.
At least, to the salarians, there was a sigh of relief. A mediocre representative was rife for…proper guidance, after all.
Her inauguration was modest in comparison to past Councilors. Don't get it wrong, it was still a cause for celebration (to the asari), but the feeling had a sort of formality to it, rather than the wild enthusiasm it would usually garner. Oddly enough, the only High Matriarch to attend her inauguration was her mother, Alufreya Nariaus.
Notable in the fact that it was a ritual to at least have three of the High Matriarchs to attend such an event.
But that still leaves us the question: Who is Tevos Naraius?
Just a figure of average looks, achievement, and presence? One destined for mediocrity?
You see, up to that point, the general public had the right of it. Every analysis and dossier that passed the desk of some important figure reported the same.
It was only a few days later, after the quick return to normalcy, that things would change.
Proposing legislation that turned heads. Restructuring subcommittees that had remained the same for millennia. Contacting and establishing relations with aggressive, non-state actors. The formal acknowledgment and accusation of the slave trade and how it was enabled by the batarians. The firing and replacement of over 2/3rds the asari staff that worked under her.
All in the first three days.
Such drastic changes were uncharacteristic to the long-viewed asari, who tend to take their time when dealing with many grandstanding matters.
But what was really shocking was how her fellow Councilors agreed to a lot of her propositions.
To the turians, they were proposals they had advocated since the beginning of their promotion as a council member. Ones that the asari and salarian Councilors both historically disagreed upon, thanks to their respective government's disapproval. Such actions had earned her praise and admiration from the Hierarchy overnight.
To the salarians, she not only maneuvered the salarian Councilor with back-door threats and public offerings of long-sought-after tech exchanges (to their even greater surprise of an acquiescing Chamber of Matriarchs), but she achieved something not even Councilor Treeya had in her long tenure—a grudging respect as an equal.
But popularity amongst here peers was merely a step.
Though she could not compete with her predecessor in looks, she went the alternative route.
Speeches. Interviews. A graceful personality that leveled with the average asari in such a way that was endearing. And yet, there was a poise to her movement. An almost naturally fluidity that created an ethereal quality behind every step. Her compassion coupled with her words was one that enraptured her audience, one that made them feel better about themselves as she spoke of common plights politicians of her position rarely engage in.
To say her popularity shot amongst nearly every level of society was an understatement.
Such actions did not go unnoticed to the Union.
Thus, did her competency and cleverness solidify her reputation in the form of a sobriquet: the asari dalatrass.
A figure underestimated for all the right reasons—until she wasn't.
And in the background of all those reassessing this new figure in politics stood a slow clapping Alufreya Nariaus, grinning widely in motherly content.
Her hand was limp on the glass table. The orange glow of her omni-tool softly illuminated the dark living room of her apartment. On full display was the priority message from Selica tying it all together.
She read the contents of the message once more, the words feeling like oil in her throat.
"Mother is dead."
Her eyes were glazed, and yet, no tears fell.
The new head of the Naraius family brought the edge of the wine glass to her lips, only to realize that she'd emptied it—and the bottle—some time ago.
"She's finally dead, huh…" placing the wineglass back down with a soft clink.
"She's... finally dead," she repeated in a whisper.
The edges of her lips were upturned until a soft giggle escaped. Then a chuckle. Until hollow laughter echoed in the empty apartment. Lights of distant vehicles streamed in the distance, like beams of flickering light, making the shadows dance to the dead craze that filled the living room.
A cold hand covered her eyes, stifling the wetness that was breaking through.
But her smile never left even as the laughter settled. Tevos Naraius was now one step closer to being the most powerful figure in the galaxy.
Mom... Dad... I've done it.
Now, all she had to do was wait. Wait for that crazy bitch to die of old age. Or, goddess willing, see that lunatic assassinated.
She could probably pull a few strings here or there to speed up the process.
And in all honesty? She may have too.
The Councilor chuckled once more at that line of thought.
So then why? She wondered.
Why did she feel so…
...hollow?
To her own dismay, laughter turned to choking sobs, a cry unfamiliar in her own voice.
Was it all worth it…? A child-like whisper in her mind asked.
She slowly lowered her hand down to look around her, repressing the fits of laughter and sobs through practiced breathing techniques.
The living room was devoid of light, except for the oddly sickening glow of her omni-tool.
Asari and humans shared a particular belief—one's own living space was a reflection of who they are.
There was a sparseness she was only now noticing in the space of her living room. Once, she thought the furnishing was tastefully minimalistic, now all she saw was emptiness.
The matriarch tapped her omni-tool off and pushed herself up from her seat, wanting to get away from it. Bare feet touched the cold floor as she walked to her bedroom only to sit on the mattress.
A shaking hand dug under a pillow—searching—until her fingers grasped what she was looking for.
It was warm to the touch—as if it had been sitting out in the sun for hours. The silver finish of the chain lay sprawled on her hand. The twinkle of the cityscape's light that filtered through her bedroom window shimmered the jewel with an ethereal, crimson glow.
The ruby pendant was one of a kind. Long, dead memories of a salarian placing it in her hands came rushing to her mind. His calloused hands took hold of her small, dainty ones and helped her clasp it tight.
Fingers, now aged and weary, held the ruby pendant close to her chest. Even now, the eternal warmth that emanated from the scarlet jewel revitalized her heart and soul.
"ᵂᵃˢ ᶦᵗ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ᶦᵗ?"
She jumped, her head jerking up. Wide eyes darted from space to space.
She swore she heard something. Someone.
But… there was nothing. It was just her, residing in the inky blackness of her bedroom.
Moments ticked away and with a relieved sigh, shook her head with a smirk. The stress of the day must be getting to her.
She put the ruby pendant back under the pillow and stretched her long arms before heading to the living room to clean up.
With an elegant gesture, the matriarch picked the empty wine glass up from the translucent table and turned towards the kitchen.
She was not one to dwell, finding it a waste of time. But sometimes, circumstances forced one to at least reflect. And ghosts of the past can act as reminders of more innocent days.
"Lights on," she spoke out loud.
But there was nothing.
The matriarch paused in her stride, noticing the wisps of vapor emanating from her breath.
"Lights on," she repeated, tersely.
Again, nothing.
The matriarch stilled, waiting for some kind of response, then took a deep and long sigh, turning away from the kitchen and towards the entrance instead. Her light steps brought her in front of the pad that controlled various functions of her abode. Gingerly, she lifted her free hand over the dial but right before her fingertips made contact—the lights flashed on.
All of them.
Tevos felt her breath hitch, nearly dropping the wineglass.
"Perhaps it's just the VI acting up…?" she mumbled slowly to herself as she brought down her hand.
Turning, she headed back towards the kitchen, trying to shake the feeling away.
Placing the wineglass in the sink, noticed how unused it was. The last time she had to clean a dish was some time ago, she mused.
Eating out constantly probably wasn't good for one's health. Even if they were from the finest restaurants.
Her hand paused over the dial of the faucet.
If anything, how long had it been since she's stayed in this apartment?
As a member of the Council, she was always busy enough that she basically lived and breathed work. Enough that she even had a hidden bedroom made to connect directly to her office.
The Councilor frowned at the thought.
She didn't even remember the last time she was here. At this apartment.
Tevos turned the faucet on—only for black muck to gush out instead.
She screamed and stumbled back. The wineglass shattered on the floor. The matriarch's heart was beating like a drum; her eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief.
But all she saw was just water.
"Wha–" she breathed out.
She looked back and forth from the shattered glass to the clear water flowing freely from the faucet.
.
.
.
"What, in Athame, was that...?"
Azalea Rais was worried.
She plopped bonelessly on her chair, overlooking the distant lights of air traffic over the Presidium river. As the captain of her lady's personal guard, her own room was placed just across the hall from the matriarch's, with the rest of the guard living in rooms below them.
The apartment itself was as nondescript as any other here in the Presidium: a gated community, known famously as the Silver City. A community for the prestigious, protected by both the C-Sec's Special Response Unit and a number of elite guards from their various wealthy charges. With all this wealth and prestige concentrated in one area, there was no wonder this community was one of the first to recover from the Siege.
But one of the most prominent reasons why the area had prospered so quickly was because of Lady Tevos's tireless effort.
This woman of grace and power, admired by those around her...was off.
Though their personal interaction remained minimal and professional throughout all these centuries, she had learned enough of the matriarch. Her patterns. Her routines. Her behavior.
But from these last past few days alone, she had broken away from centuries worth of procedure that it was a bit worrying.
No, that wasn't the most accurate term. She had seen this same change in the past within the 40 years she worked as a Councilor: the introduction of humanity.
A sigh exited the matron's lips. She rested her chin into her hand, propped on the armrest of her chair.
Her recent reflection towards the nature of her relationship with her lady revealed some troubling insights—for as long as she had known for Lady Tevos, there was surprisingly little she actually knew of her. Not just in her routines and behavior, but in why she made these choices. Sure, she could assume and make conclusions all she wants, but that doesn't reach the heart of the matter—did she really know who she was?
She had thought that her icy exterior she only revealed outside the company was her true self. One developed over the years with the many experiences she had to deal with throughout her career. It's in these past few days when she shed bits and pieces of this that revealed an aspect about her lady she had never seen.
It wasn't like she thought the matriarch was inherently cold, far from it, but rather her kindness and compassion could only be seen by her actions and how much she shook the system up.
"Would anyone really care, huh…?"
The matron ran a rough hand over her crest.
Admittedly, Lady Tevos was not the sort of conventional beauty that would attract a following but there was more to her than what can be seen at the water's surface. Through her own understanding of matriarch Tevos, she had come to admire her strength as well as understand the difference between character and the policy she proposes.
The commando pouted.
Perhaps her lady was experiencing what the humans called 'burnout?'
Azalea had to do something. She, at least, owed her that much, if not just for dutys' sake.
Besides, this could be an opportune time to get to know her a little better.
Maybe take her out to eat?
The matriarch does have a fascination with exotic foods from what she's seen.
Yeah, that sounds good, she grinned.
"I know this is a bit informal, but… thanks for having lunch with me."
Tevos Naraius "smiled" through her phase mask, noticing the particular types of people dining around them. The Ichiban was one of the first spots to reopen, with many of its neighboring shops in the middle of reconstruction. It had attracted the weary and the destitute alike in the beginning until word of mouth had brought in an influx of patrons to its little shop. Of all the businesses here, the Ichiban was one of the few that actually benefited from the Siege, though she'd guess that the owner would seldom admit that.
She was surprised, to say the least, when she woke up to Azalea's message: a request to have lunch with her. Normally, she would be up at her normal time of 7 AM, beginning her day with some light reading over some non-priority reports with the vidscreen on the news channel for background noise.
But this break of routine…was nice.
"I should thank you. I admit, I don't normally go out to places like this, but I realize that maybe it was time that I…expand…my palate, so to speak."
Azalea didn't exactly know how to take what she meant with 'places like this,' but she was glad she approved of her choice in the restaurant.
"Ladies," a human with an all-too-common smirk said. He laid down a steamy bowl in front of the Councilor, "Tonkatsu ramen with one extra seasoned egg for the pretty one," pausing to give a slight nod and wink to her, "And one tsukmen with extra broth on the side for the loud one," setting down the other for her companion.
Azalea rolled her eyes at the waiter, "Thanks for the compliment, Richard."
The man laughed, giving them a deep and dramatic bow. "I live to serve, ladies. Enjoy."
Tevos felt amused and no less surprised by the interaction. In contrast, she was more used to the fake pleasantries and gossip of those in her own social standing.
That isn't to say Azalea was less exposed than she was, being her personal guard and all, but she would have never guessed how comfortable the commando would be with people like that.
"A friend?"
"A–ah, no," the matron smiled embarrassingly. "Just someone I often see when I come here."
"Sounds like a friend to me."
A slight purplish hue appeared on the younger's face, as she turned her attention to the bowl.
"So this," the matron pointed, changing the subject, "is what's called 'ramen,' a human delicacy from Earth. And you don't eat this with a human-styled spoon or fork, you use th–"
The matriarch smirked, and took the chopsticks without hesitation, surprising the matron. Expertly, she picked the noodles from the bowl, as if she had done this numerous times in the past.
"Oh, so I guess you've had, uh, ramen before, my lady?"
Tevos softly slurped the noodles up, somehow making the act look more elegant than it had no right to be, then smiled politely.
"No," she replied. "This is my first time."
The matriarch laughed inwardly at Azalea's surprised expression. She could say that the whole trip was worth it just for seeing that face alone.
But honestly? The food was amazing.
She didn't lie to Azalea. This really was her first time having ramen. But being a Councilor, and with the relative newness of the humans arriving at the galactic scene, she took it upon herself to read as much as she could on their various cultures, history, and politics.
Rule of thumb? Food and manners were always the first things one must learn if they were to better understand a species or a culture.
But that was beside the point. Yes, this was her first time, but she knew exactly what ramen was. Long before Azalea—or anyone else in the galaxy—had.
Tevos swirled the noodles in the broth.
She should have been more excited over this.
This was something that was long overdue. Of a conversation from long ago.
But she couldn't bring herself to fully enjoy it.
Perhaps it was because she knew exactly why Azalea took her out to eat in the first place.
For all her social savvy, she didn't know how to classify Azalea. Was she just Captain Azalea Rais, the (in)famous Shield of Tevos? A colleague, perhaps? A hapless girl she took into her service without a second thought?
Or was she a friend…?
Their relationship was something to reconsider. She was not one to think hard about something like this, but the past week had been…different.
But she was Tevos Naraius, the soon-to-be High Matriarch of House Naraius, and Councilor of the Republics. She had an image to retain.
She rubbed her arms, feeling cold despite the warmth of the ramen.
"Lady Tevos…?"
She schooled her features. All this thinking was getting tiresome.
The matriarch looked up from her bowl of noodles to the person across the table from her.
"Yes?"
Azalea's gaze was to her meal as well, but her thoughts were elsewhere; her hands placed squarely on the table.
"I…"
Tevos waited patiently, placing the chopsticks down gently.
"Lady Tevos..."
Her eyes wandered from left to right, unfocused. Struggling.
"About yesterday..."
She could see how much she struggled with expressing her feelings through words. To the other person from across the table, she did what she did best, and reached out to lay a hand on top of hers.
The matron, shocked, finally looked up, their gazes connecting as the undue pressures of the world seemingly left her shoulders.
"I just... I just wanted to say… that if you ever need to talk that I, um, I'm always here."
A practiced smile appeared on her face. Not too wide, not too shallow. Just right, to get the intent across.
They were words the matriarch had heard often enough. From those who had hidden agendas. To family arranged bondmate candidates. To "friends." To—
"If you ever need to talk, Little One, I will always be here."
Yes, she had heard those words often.
But this one...
Perhaps this one was different.
"This may be out of place but I…I only wish to see you well," Azalea continued, feeling more emboldened. "I know things haven't been easy since the Geth attack, and with work piling up more and more…! I just wanted to let you know that I'm..." she swallowed, "I'm here."
The matriarch eyed her for a moment longer…and looked away, pulling her hand back.
When was the last time she had confided in someone else?
Not since…
"If you ever need anything, just…"
"…hit me up. My doors are always open."
Violet eyes widened as she slowly looked up to the person across the table. To the voice that had just spoken.
"What…did you just say…?" she whispered.
"Mom, dad, I've done!" Azalea suddenly yelled, throwing her arms in the air. An unnatural and surreal moment indeed. Because that was not her voice, no that was...
"Is that…me?"
"Another glass, ma'am?"
Tevos looked around, only to find herself back in that dark abode. Back in Flux.
And standing across from her, waiting patiently for an answer was...
What is going on?
"Oh, you know…"
Speak of the devil.
And he shall come.
Tevos looked down at her hand: a glass of scotch. On the rocks.
And it was cold.
"Go on. Say it," the server grinned, leaning down with her red hair.
"Say what?"
"What you would have said. To her, and to her."
"I don't…I don't know what you're talking about."
Somehow, her grin grew wider.
"Ah, but my lady!" she cried out with arms in the air. "You always knew what to say. Isn't that why she/she was willing to reach out to you? Why she caaaaared."
She's different now. She was…
"Isn't that what I've—"
"—taught you?"
I looked up to her. So tall and imposing. But I knew there was something wrong.
She was my mother now, and she said she would make me…whole.
I didn't know what that meant.
I didn't know why she chose me.
But I nodded. And smiled.
I had to.
For her.
"Oh, Little One..."
I'm not scared.
I'm not scared.
I'm not scared.
"It's okay to be scared," she said, crouching down to eye-level. She smiled, the pearly whites of her pristine teeth set upon an unblinking face.
"But I promise, I will take care of you—protect you," she said.
"You will never have to go hungry again," she said.
"If you ever need to talk, Little One, I—"
"—got your back," she laughed.
And I smiled. But not like I always did.
"Are you sure? From my end, it looks like I was always the one that had yours."
"And our award-winning actress finally shows her true self!" the turian quipped.
I pouted and looked away. But my smile never left my face.
"I just never had a good reason to smile, idiot."
"You don't need a good reason to smile, Tevos honey. You just…do it."
If turians could grin, she would definitely be doing just that.
"You damn tease."
"Ah ha! Just like that!"
"Shut up," I laughed.
"Heh, but I mean it," her voice going soft. "If you ever need anything, just hit me up. My doors are always open."
"Thanks, ███████," I gently voiced.
"Ooh, is the ice queen finally warming up?" she teased once more.
"Oh, hush, you. Maybe one day I'll—"
"—be there with you. No matter what happens."
He softly cupped my cheek, his hand stained with my tears and his blood.
I didn't understand why he was here.
He wasn't supposed to.
Mother said to forget about him.
But I…
He took my hand, weakly uncurling it—and placed an unfamiliar pendant in my hand.
"If it ever feels like it's too much, that pendant will be your guide."
"███!"...I cried out. I didn't want to forget.
I didn't want to lose him.
All I wanted was…
"Remember…to smile. I'm 41 years old. An ancient of my kind. But you…have a bright future ahead of you. So smile for me. Smile and know that I—"
"̴̾͜—̷͚̆w̶̢͋i̵͎͛l̴̕ͅḻ̵̄ ̶̰͑a̵͕͐l̴͍͝ẅ̸̖́ą̴͒ŷ̷̹ś̴̘ ̷̻͗l̵̻̎o̴̝̽v̵͔̋e̷̟͂ ̶͚̇y̶̺̋o̸͈̊u̵̓ͅ.̵̇ͅ"̷̬̓
No. Stop. Please.
A cacophony of voices. Of a past left in the dark.
To forget…was a salve. To forget…was my only choice.
The glass shattered in her hands and a rationale part of her worried.
But it wasn't so.
When she brought her tightened fist up, she uncurled it.
Only to see a crushed flower in her hand.
O̷͈̘͗͂h̵͉͇̻̗͎͒̍̋̇̐͂,̴̯̻̙̜́͑͂ ̸͎͈̦͔̐̒͛̕Ḽ̶̤̲͇̖̫́i̵͖͠t̴̛̬̥͝͝t̴̻̖̗̻̀͆̀̿̓͊ĺ̸̛͔̰̑̂́̇e̵̬̭͇͝ ̶̦̈́̃̿Ọ̵̧̥͚̬͍̉̔̔͝͠n̸̻̺̈̂̈́̊ẽ̶̦͓̹̖́̃͆̀,̸̲͍̙͖͚̲̓͋͊ ̷͚̥̰̎̈́͆̀̿ý̶͔͉̝̫̜̳̒̅o̸̟̜̭͗͘͝u̸̦̭̔̋͗͋̽͜͠ ̴̨̬̣͍̰̌á̴̛̬̅̑̒̚͜ḽ̴̞͍̙̞̅͛͌̿̏̾w̸̨͓̳̒̔̌͆̀a̴͚̳͔͓͌͐͒͒̾ỳ̵̮̰͙͖͆̓̿ṡ̷̠̰̺̲̯̓̅ ̸̤̰̩̳̜͋̏̒̆̋̚h̷̯̪̫͌́a̷̗͈̩̟͛d̷̤̙͒̐̋̐ ̷̨̯̯̺͉̾̓̋a̴͇̳̎̂̾͋ ̷̧̩͍͉̝͖̀͂̀͝ĉ̷͈̤̱͕͔̝h̴̩͒̌̾̈́o̸̦͑̄̓̓̋̎i̷̲̽͆c̵̞͙͖̫̺̠͌̉͝͠e̴̟̿̂̆̀̈́͠.̷̫̉
"No
"NO
"NO!"
Tevos couldn't take it.
In fury and in fear, she screamed, jumping back as she glowed a phantasmal blue. And with a powerful flare of her biotics—she Pushed.
It only took her a couple of moments to realize the glass that was around her. But it was the upturn of gravity and the midnight skyline encompassing her wide view that told her the rest.
She never left her apartment. She never made it to lunch with Azalea. And in her fit of madness and hysteria, clarity hit her like a slap to the face.
Tevos... was falling. Falling from her balcony of the 16th floor, the peak of her ivory tower—and broken from whatever nightmare she was under.
Her face was frozen in a state of shock, but with her life flashing before her eyes, the shards of glass were like glistening stars reflecting the ever-restless lights of the Citadel backdrop.
And they were beautiful. Whether it was the stars above or the glass, it never once mattered to her.
But now, all she could do was reach out. A desperation that was either born out of reflex or something more...
Biotics! J-Just use biotics to lessen the impact—! I-If I just time it right—
.
.
.
No.
Faces of shock and betrayal. Eyes filled with tears. And the blood…of so many others. All in her hands.
Perhaps...she was right.
Tevos Naraius had finally come to an understanding that night. In her arrogance, she thought the false wings she had spent her whole life crafting would be enough.
That if she had the strength and belief, even someone like her...
...could grab hold of the stars.
She clenched her eyes, finally realizing how much of her life was a lie.
.
.
.
And so, destiny plays its hand.
.
.
.
There comes a point, you see, where fate comes breaking through. Whether it was under the grace of the gods or the whimsy of the devil, fate finds a way.
The priceless pendant gripped tightly in her left hand was left forgotten. Even so, she still reached out. Filled with doubt and self-pity built from the slick blood of the past, all she could do was cry in her arrogance. But she still reached out.
Glimmers of light that lead us to a better tomorrow, filling us with the faith that it will always get better.
So with a memento of a father's love clutched tightly in her hand, and the other desperately reaching out towards those distant lights—
—fate answered once more.
A familiar hand from long ago grasped hers, the unexpected touch forcing her eyes to open in shock and wonder.
His appearance was like the stories of myth and legend—heroism defined by the circumstances set by destiny. Dressed in crimson red, with pants of onyx black, and hair of snow-white, memories from long ago came to life.
She was someone to be saved, and he, like always, was someone to save. It was only natural that her fingers intertwined with his. But despite this hallowed scene and the impossibility of it all, there was only one thing that she could focus on.
His hand…
...it's warm.
†
Author's Note—
Thank you for reading! First chapters are always the hardest but I've managed to get through it with a crossover I've always wanted to do for a long time. If it isn't apparent by now, this is an AU.
Added Note—
Partially rewritten as of March 21st, 2022
Last edited:
Page 2
Page 2
I remembered sitting by a lone tree, its branches creaking under the sway of a gentle breeze.
I remembered the sea of endless colors, its visage stretching beyond the boundary.
I remembered the world as it once was, silver towers that threatened to break through the heavens.
As it once was.
To me, this was my world now. An oasis where reality and fantasy were indistinguishable. Of dreamy perennials endless in their horizon. Boundless in their bounty.
"It's called an Aster."
A gentle and sudden voice had me look up, breaking through the shell of my thoughts. A little girl not so much older than myself greeted me with a warm smile.
"The flower in your hand," she pointed, "is called an Aster."
Ah, yes. She was my sister now. A stranger up until a few days ago.
I looked from the field of flowers around me to the bloom in my hand.
Thessia had always been big, but all I knew then were the moments I lived a life like any little girl. The aircars that whizzed high in the sky, a gentle hand that pulled me along down the street, and a warmth, waiting for me at home.
The beauty here was unlike anything I've known, but for all its colors, it lacked the familiar spark I had once known. The diverse fields of flowers so meticulously crafted were familiar, however. With the guidance and care I found myself yearning for. The Naraius lands were just that, a garden unlike any in Thessia.
And for good reason. Did you know that ecologists and botanists all across the world protested the mixture of both alien and native fauna? It was for a good reason, obviously, as the impact of alien lifeforms could impact the environment of the planet in unforeseen ways.
And yet, the Naraius family did so with defiance.
A defiance that I later came to appreciate as I grew older. And one exemplified by how the gardens thrived under weathered scrutiny.
From their existence gave rise to the genera unforeseen anywhere in the galaxy… to the very bloom held delicately in my hands.
Ever so gently, I brought it closer before me. And like a fan, twirled when I rubbed the stem with my thumb across the edge of my index finger.
Bright and yellow was its center—a stigma—as it's called.
"An Aster…" I repeated, naive reverence naked for all to see.
And as I stared, I was drawn further in—caught in its rapture. Memories of broken promises and tears crept into my vision.
But the purple, so magnificent, so powerful… washed it all away.
All that was left was a future. My future.
Defiance yet to be written, and a future held so delicately in the palm of my hands.
Archer was annoyed.
Despite all that he's seen in his life—afterlife, whatever—there were times when even someone like him could be amazed.
And being in the Citadel happened to be one of those times. Like something torn from the sci-fi movies of his youth.
He rarely, if ever, had a chance to explore interests outside his line of work, but in this one rare instance, he finally had a chance to do just that. A drastic change from the static thoughts he constantly held. Amusingly, he was surprised that he retained the ability to feel such wonder in the first place.
As fascinating as the alien sitting across from him was, he just wanted to leave.
"Shirou Emiya."
Piercing was his steel eyes when he looked up from his musings. Endless black were those of its speaker. Young—impulsive even—but tempered. Despite its alien nature, his own ancient eyes had seen much throughout the ages.
He let out a silent sigh.
"Archer. Just Archer is fine."
Amusingly, he thought he saw a flicker of annoyance in its—his eyes, but then again, it was his first time seeing an actual alien—a salarian, he corrected, such as this one.
"Well, Just Archer, you may call me Nolal."
He smirked at the unexpected humor. Despite his luck, he was eternally grateful that they could communicate. However the hell that worked.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Let's start from the beginning."
Just Archer nodded.
"What were you doing so late out this night?"
Hm, what was he doing? Everything happened so quickly. Even to someone like him. For some reason, he lacked the ability to use his spiritual form. And the stream of knowledge that was usually imparted to him before a summoning just wasn't there.
The authorities here are surprisingly fast.
This wasn't the worst interro—questioning room he's ever been in at least. But then again, the last time he was detained was when he was actually alive.
If only he could use Eye of the Mind here. Too bad there was no sense of danger. Yet.
But no use lamenting over things.
From his short existence here there was a surprising amount of resemblance to his old world.
Sure the people may be different, but from the few humans he's seen there had to be commonalities he could exploit.
"I was out for a walk."
Or he could try making it up as he goes and see where that takes him. If all else fails, he could just leave. Weird summoning as it was, he doubted that anything here could actually hurt him. Though, he'd rather not test that possibility just yet.
"Out for a walk," Nolal deadpanned. "At this hour and dressed like that?"
Oh, right.
"It's a necessity for my line of work. And besides, I'm new here," he shrugged, keeping his tone casual. "I'm still adjusting to the hours so I thought a late-night walk would help."
Half of what he said was technically true. From what he could tell from his host's expression, if he could read it correctly, there's no form of future tech present that could distinguish him from dishonesty. Otherwise, they would have known that he wasn't exactly… human.
But that isn't to say that the person across from him took everything he's said at face value.
Archer was a fish out of the water, even with the scant information he was given.
While he couldn't exactly compare alien behavior with the humans from his time, logically, they seem to follow some sort of protocol.
And the sequence of events unfolding came to a logical conclusion.
The prestigious-looking tower. The rapid response of authorities. The heavy guard on the way here. The type of questions he was asked.
And from those very questions he concluded that the person he saved wasn't exactly your ordinary citizen.
To get involved with someone like that while lacking crucial information was dangerous. The knowledge and wisdom he could have drawn on were mostly dependent on human behavior, while most everyone he's seen so far was, well, not exactly human.
And he was pretty sure he was summoned by her.
At least, she was a her, right? He couldn't tell with aliens, but it seemed so obvious with the blue ones.
A bit of a supposition, but the feeling in his gut agreed. For now, Archer has his goal.
Nolal was annoyed.
Annoyed that everyone else who could have been here was either busy or unavailable.
Annoyed that he was taken away from actual important things he was working on.
But most of all, annoyed that the human sitting right in front of him wasn't exactly normal.
Call it 'inductive reasoning,' because, from the evidence so far and his nonchalant attitude, he was certainly not normal.
A walk, huh?
But abnormal or not, he had to look at this with reason and logic anyways.
At the time, this Archer had every chance to do whatever nefarious things with the Councilor then. Instead, he simply handed her over. As he was told by his colleagues before they brought him in, Archer was calm, even with all the guns pointed at him. Not like someone caught in the act of doing something illegal.
But it was all too suspicious.
Perhaps that was why they brought him in here instead of calling in the usual detectives. A simple analyst made to interro—question—the subject already confirmed that his superiors knew of his talents, especially on human behavior.
How annoying.
Maybe he could get something before news broke out to the public. And Councilor Tevos had her fair share of admirers. Dealing with angry asari wasn't exactly fun.
Pft, not his problem to deal with.
Still, he did promise Pallin to do this.
He eyed the human sitting in front of him.
Neutral brows. Slightly parted lips. Shoulders lax. Chest marginally forward. Denotes confidence. Supremely so.
"If I may, what exactly do you do?" he asked.
Archer frowned. Interesting.
"Private contracting."
"Private contracting?" he repeated.
The man nodded.
Cases that involved high-profile figures like Councilors always denoted a certain level of scrutiny.
Nolal knew what he did for a living, of course. Besides, his outfit certainly did give out the impression of a soldier, even with all that bright red. Oddly enough, there were no kinetic barriers or outgoing communication devices detected. But his torso was encased in some sort of body armor.
The man was earthborn, never having been to the Citadel before. A freelancer that worked on legal, private security in Alliance territory. Background check fits so far; if a little scarce in actual info on the nature of his jobs.
His choice of career did trigger a red flag though. As well as the location of where they found him. For a freelance mercenary to be strolling around in the Silver City, someone like him wouldn't have been—shouldn't have been—let in in the first place. And why come to the Citadel now if all of his business was usually conducted in Alliance space?
Too coincidental. His clothing. His demeanor. His location. His job. His involvement. And strange enough, his lack of an omni-tool.
The timing was just too coincidental.
And none of that even explained how he did the things he did.
"I see," the salarian mumbled, eyeing the human. He brought up his arm and activated his omni-tool, typing in a couple of commands.
"Mr. Archer. I do find it remarkable that without biotics or a hardsuit that you were able to catch someone falling from the sixteenth story and come off uninjured as you look."
An orange haptic screen popped into existence in front of the man.
"I never knew humans were so physically capable."
Shown before him in high-definition were dents on the walkway, discovered shortly by C-Sec analysts.
"That sidewalk was made from a metal matrix hybrid composite with the ability to support over eight metric tons of weight. A fully armored krogan army could hop up and down that street without so much as causing a scratch."
Archer's expression remained unchanged, his grey eyes went over the display before looking back up. Whatever he expected the human to say was wiped away as he had the audacity to smirk at him.
"Perhaps I'm just stronger than I look."
He wanted to snort out a response. Unexpected and yet, unsurprised from the little he's seen of the human.
For however long Nolal indulged in his own 'hobby,' the unexpected was something of the norm.
However, it was never sitting in front of him like this. It was the little things that he noticed that were off, but knowing where to look allowed him to see it in plain sight.
And all it took was less than five minutes.
Logic and reason. Those were the tenets of every modern sapient species, but to his kind especially, they might as well be sacred script.
But when faced with the extraordinary, would it be enough?
He fell. From the top of that tower. Boot and knee marks match footwear and physic.
But no equipment or biotics? Unless part of some secret System's Alliance super-soldier program, then that is simply…
Archer wasn't a suspect. Not officially. And whether he knew it or not, C-Sec couldn't hold him longer than 24 hours without the appropriate permissions.
It was his job to locate patterns but the patterns don't exactly make sense.
Humans. So strange.
"No matter how one looks at it, what you did just wasn't possible. Not without biotics or some specially designed hardsuit."
And you clearly weren't trying to terminate or abduct the Councilor, so then—
"Archer…
Emiya Shirou…
"Who are you?"
What are you?
But before the man could respond, the doors slid open revealing a very annoyed asari in all-black marching right in.
She didn't even deign to give him a glance, her only focus was on the human who merely greeted her with a raised eyebrow.
"Up," her voice stern.
Not anyone recognizably important or from the station. No, wait…
He eyed her upper sleeve.
Dammit.
The salarian got up before the human did, having already understood the situation.
"A pleasure, Just Archer. It seems like your friends from high places have need of you."
He walked past the asari and even by his gaping colleagues in the hallway as if they weren't even there. It was out of his hands now.
Sorry, Executor. If Tevos's own came then not even you could override that given authority.
Nolal sat back down in his little corner of the station's work area, a tidy desk with not much to showcase in terms of personal decor.
But there was one thing he had. A reminder of his purpose here.
He buried a hand into his pocket, his thumb rubbing the polished metal he carried with him everywhere he went.
If logic and reason wouldn't give him the answers he wanted, then perhaps faith could point him to the right answers.
This isn't over, Shirou Emiya.
I still remembered the pitter-patter of my footsteps walking down that hallway next to the loggia.
They were always immaculate in their presentation, the hallways, I mean. The chirping melodies of the birds added to the scene, filling the air with their voice.
And the servants, ever so considerate, gave me a wide berth whenever they walked past me, barely an acknowledgment to my presence. How respectful.
I felt my head hang a little lower.
But it was to be, the origins of my birth a hanging fruit for all those who knew even a little of me.
Everything about that day was so crystal clear to me. Unlike the skies, cloudy as they were then. Mother and sister were gone for the day and I had the estate all to my own.
In hindsight, it was a perfect moment, all things considered.
That was where I found myself, as if in a single moment, a blindfold over my eyes with my hands and feet bounded.
I remembered struggling, yelling out, only to hear my own muffled voice.
How did this happen, a rational part of me wondered in my stupor.
Someone came stomping in, their steps filled with impatience and anger.
"Shut the fuck up!" to what I assumed was an asari.
I tried, I truly did. Fear came lancing down my spine at her words. But the kick to my gut told me that I didn't try hard enough. Not with the sniffles coming out.
I felt like throwing up, but I couldn't, even if I wanted to. So confused and scared as I was, I didn't want to be here. Alone in the dark, I mean.
Mo—She… had always said to keep my chin up, to smile even in the darkest of times. Because to smile even when it hurts… is strength.
A lesson my dazed little mind clung to in those dark hours.
Tears came, as expected, but I kept myself quiet. Quiet as the hours—then the days—went on. When my captors came and fed me. When I relieved myself under their supervision. Because I knew then, that despite the darkness that was all around me, I had to keep my chin up and smile.
I would be strong.
After Azalea's little stunt at C-Sec Headquarters, the walk to the aircar went uninterrupted, despite all the angry looks from the turians she walked by. Archer agreed to accompany her after a brief introduction. The ride was going smoothly too. Thankfully, there was a lack of traffic this early in the morning.
Claim the wins, however small, a voice rang in her head.
In the brief time humans have lived in the Citadel, Azalea had never seen a human dressed like him before.
He was slightly taller than the average male of his kind. White 'hair,' as they call it, that's partially slicked back. Tan skin with eyes so grey they matched the color of unpolished steel. And those muscles; corded and tight, as seen through his black armor.
Is this a vain thing? she wondered, eyeing the abs. Then again, she was an asari. A race with a reputation for being vain at times.
The human gave off an air of a warrior of some sort. Almost like those of the Sohei, or a Justicar.
The red certainly fits with the latter.
"Is everything alright?" the human asked in the backseat.
Azalea would have jumped from her musings if it wasn't for her discipline.
No. No, it is not.
"For now," she managed to sound out.
She really didn't want to think about it.
Azalea felt an odd tension in the air as silence settled in. Even when she didn't want too, she couldn't help but think back. Of what she said. Of what she saw. Of what had happened.
"Do you think anyone would really care… if I just let it all go?"
Her breathing became heavy, holding back the torrent of emotions.
Here she was, thoughts drifting of the human she had just picked up while Lady Tevos lay comatose.
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Toxicology came out clean and there were no discernable physical marks.
So then why?
The healers are doing everything they can, but it isn't honestly much. What can chirurgeons heal when there's nothing to heal?
She had to be patient. She had to learn how to. But this… this is maddening.
Why, Lady Tevos, why won't you wake up?
"Hey, HEY! Watch out!"
Azalea quickly looked up and jerked the steering wheel before smashing into oncoming traffic, the alarm of the aircar going silent.
The commando activated the auto-pilot, her heart beating like a drum as she leaned back.
"I… I apologize," she breathed out.
Get it together, Azalea. Lady Tevos would be disgusted with your lack of control.
She was sure of it, but after the last couple of weeks, she was unsure what she would think now.
The commando rubbed her shoulder, finding the gesture oddly soothing.
"You must be really close to her," his voice soft.
She didn't answer him at first, bringing her head down.
"I would like to think so."
The matron shook her head, collecting herself.
"I apologize for the display, Ser Emiya," bringing in more force into her tone. "Please, bear with me a moment longer. I only ask that you keep your questions to yourself for now. And please don't worry. We're not C-Sec. I won't hold you without due cause once this is over."
She could feel his eyes staring at the back of her crest, analyzing her words.
"The name is Archer and you can drop the Ser. But other than that, I understand."
"Thank you," she said, finding herself surprised when she released a held breath.
Undoing the autopilot, the rest of the trip went without another word or incident, Azalea keeping her focus on the drive.
She knew it wouldn't be long now before the press catches wind of the situation and chaos ensues. With the Citadel still recovering, the death of the Naraius Matriarch, and now this, she could already feel the stress piling on just thinking about it.
Perhaps she should send an apology and note of thanks to Lady Nassana later today.
At least, she was glad that C-Sec was still willing to forward current information on the investigation so far. Even with the stunt she pulled taking Archer away from them.
Normally, she wouldn't care how zealous C-Sec could sometimes be, but if Archer really wished harm to Lady Tevos, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop him.
She shook her head. Relying on someone else's intentions was a grave and naive security flaw.
But that doesn't change the fact that she owed him. She didn't care how he did it, she was just glad that there was someone there to catch her.
When I couldn't.
The matron brought the aircar in slowly to the parking area and the two stepped out.
In the middle of the Silver City was Lis'irha T'pejin Memorial Hospital. A place of healing exclusively dedicated to the Citadel's most wealthy and powerful.
With the investigation ongoing and the situation as it is, she made sure it was a virtual fortress.
As evident by the two fully armored and armed guards that came to greet her.
"Thank the Goddess, we were trying to contact you and feared the worst when you weren't responding."
Quickly she looked down at her omni-tool to see several priority messages blinking at the corner of the small display.
"Oh."
"Anyways, now that you're here you have to come up quickly!"
"What's happened?" Azalea's asked, her voice serious. "Did something go wrong?"
"Not exactly," she said, almost as if to bite her lower lip. "But someone from Thessia is here. A Valyer from the Arkadium."
The commando widened her eyes before suddenly taking off, leaving everyone behind in a state of shock.
The elevators were too slow.
In her thoughts, there was only one way up. The doors slid open, and there she stopped—at the base of the stairs.
Azalea Rais looked up. It's too bad there wasn't an opening at the center.
The commando crouched down into a sprinter's stance and closed her eyes.
The world around her ceased to be, and at that moment, all she felt was the trickle of power flow through her. From her head, from her heart, from the tips of her fingers, a soft, blue aura encompassed her body like a second skin.
Willing the energy down to her feet, the energy pooled beneath her form.
It was in that instance, when eyes suddenly opened, that the world moved.
Like a bullet she shot forward, reorienting herself in mid-air thanks to the properties of element zero, and planted her feet on the wall like something out of a movie.
Up and up she went, repeating her flash steps in a zig-zag pattern until she reached the floor she was at.
The 17th. And coincidentally, it was the same number of seconds needed to reach it.
A brief flash of her master appeared in her mind. Too slow, she would have said.
Just like the sliding doors. Too damn slow to open up.
But as soon as they did she blurred once more through the hallway in a single flash step, blinking through nurses and doctors standing her way.
A Valyer. Here. Her thoughts raced.
Things were in motion too quickly. It hadn't even been a full day since the incident.
Azalea was politically savvy enough to know that sending a Valyer outside of asari space was monumental. Sending a Justicar is terrifying enough, but a Valyer could mean a number of things. Some potentially worst.
With them, it's especially important with whom they sent as well.
The commando stopped just short of Lady Tevos's room, the placed guards surprised at her sudden appearance.
"M-ma'am!"
Azalea straightened herself up, settling her thoughts and the beat of her heart.
"Report."
The two looked at each other before the one closest to her answered.
"All she gave us was a confirmation of her status as someone from the Arkadium and a name. Nothing else."
"Her name?"
The guard nodded.
"Lady Rika T'lain, Valyer of the Wandering Blade."
"Ah, hello there."
Her voice was melodious, like those from the consort. A type of voice that was almost engineered to lower your guard.
She wore a shapely lakrasheen, a traditional dress from the southern areas of Thessia, and even in the darkness of the room, the commando could tell there was more to the dress than it seemed.
Just like the unusually long warp blade at her waist. How she got that through customs was anyone's guess.
"Am I to believe that you are the one called, 'Azalea Rais,' her ladyship's captain of the guard?" she asked.
"I am. You must be Lady Rika T'lain," Azalea returned, a wisp of mist coming out. She tried hard to keep her voice from sounding guarded.
The Valyer turned to her, a veil covering her upper face, but a smile that felt oddly endearing greeted her.
Azalea's eyes widened at its familiarity.
"I had felt the flow of the Art streaming through the hallways. I am glad that the inheritance of power still resides within you."
Her words added to her shock.
So that's who she is.
She drew upon the teachings of Siara to calm her heart.
"I thank you for your praise, Messere Rika," offering a slight bow. "Though I am not averse to your presence, I am curious at the nature of your visit."
"Ah, yes," she turned away from the commando and to the occupant laying in the bed. The EKG's steady beep gently filled the air.
"I was sent by the High Matriarchs to make an assessment of the situation."
"I… I could only assume. And may I ask what this 'assessment' and 'situation' entails?" Azalea cautiously asked.
"Whether or not Tevos Naraius is fit to continue her duty as Counselor for the Republics."
She took a step forward, "But my Lady, it hasn't even been a full day. Surely you could withhold your assessment until she awakens?"
"It's not what you think, Serah Rais," softly shaking her head. "There had been unfortunate discoveries regarding House Naraius with past financial dealings made illegal by both Council and Republic law. It's unfortunate that when I came to make my inquires that I find her in such a state."
She held back her words, afraid of saying the wrong thing. It's true that she knew some of Tevos's dealings back when she was a member of the board, as well as that incident, but she tended to look away. If only for her own peace of mind.
Still…
"My lady, what would they have done if they found her guilty of these suspicions?" she carefully asked.
"That is not for me to decide. I was only requested to escort her back to Thessia if she were found wanting."
"But she's the Councilor! She isn't beholden to regular laws of the Republic unless there was an issued subpoena. And that's only if there's a majority vote by the Chamber of Matriarchs!"
Rika T'lain's eyes never left the slumbering Councilor, taking a moment to answer the Captain's outburst.
"There was a vote held two days ago," she gently stated. "It was made after the death of the Naraius High Matriarch. Paperwork and dealings were made aware to the Chamber by none other than Selica Naraius and in a unanimous vote, Councilor Tevos Naraius was to be brought forth to the Matriarchs for judgment."
Azalea almost felt herself fall to her knees. It was bad enough to have recently been informed by the High Matriarch's death, but to hear that none other than her Lady's own sister took this action against her?
"After the presented evidence," seemingly unaware of Azalea's turmoil, "There were demands to send in the Justicars. It was House Beyfor that help mediate the outrage and requested the Arkadium to instead send one of their own. And thus, I was sent."
"The… Beyfors?" Azalea asked, dumbfounded. "Why would they mediate on the matter?"
"I know not why. The intricacies of such a decision elude me, even in the face of the family's… discontent with one another."
The matron took a silent, deep breath. Even if Lady Tevos would never awaken again, they would strip her of every honor, position, and reference of her across Council space. The Chamber of Matriarchs could be vindictive that way if it's as bad as she thinks it is.
"What will you do now, Messere Rika?"
"It's unfortunate, but I was asked to bring her in. A transfer to a more suitable establishment in Thessia where she will be observed and further assessed."
Azalea knew she had to stop it. At the moment, Thessia was the most dangerous place Lady Tevos could be at the moment.
The betrayal of Lady Selica Naraius, the unanimous vote of the High Matriarchs, using a Valyer as a messenger/escort, of this Rika T'lain, the timing of it all. It's rife with the stench of political maneuvering. One she was hopeless to even begin to understand.
Under their care, there's no telling what they would do to her.
Lady Tevos had to wake up now more than ever. As Councilor and declared High Matriarch of the Naraius family by inheritance, only she could find a way out of this predicament.
She knew what she had to do. In the art of war, redirecting the floodwaters is sometimes held as the wisest decision.
She had to buy time.
"Messere Rika, I have no qualms with a transfer to Thessia. I only ask, as captain of her guard, that she remains until the chirurgeons finish their own tests."
She had to buy time and find a way to wake her.
The Valyer turned to her finally, unseen eyes assessing the captain. She saw her frustration. She saw her panic. Even under the veil and in the darkness of this room, she saw it all.
Azalea Rais, you are just like how your mother had described you.
"I am sorry, Serah Rais. Right before your presence was felt, I was sent a message to transfer her to an already arranged ship at the docks. It is now out of my hands."
And just like that, the decision was already made.
The Valyer felt a dash of sympathy watching the matron freeze. Her eyes were drawn to the emblem on her upper sleeve.
It must have been hard. Hard to feel powerless when the one to whom you were sworn to protect was taken away. I know not how she earned your loyalty, Azalea Rais, but it was wasted. Wasted on someone like her.
Even the Valyer knew this was a power grab in the making. Though she lacked the privy of the information discussed by the Matriarchs that day, she knew enough about Tevos Naraius that it disgusted her.
The question is, then, were the events leading up to the Councilor's current state an opportunity taken, or orchestrated?
Either way, the sins of the past had finally made themselves known.
Her breaths were soft and gentle. Many would even say 'weak.' She was shorter than the average person. It may have contributed to those kinds of first impressions.
Perhaps, that was why…
To be strong. To grab hold of destiny.
It was never said in so plain words, but the meaning and poise were felt all the same. In every action, in every word.
Tevos Naraius was not one to back down.
Yet here she lay. The EKG the sole indicator of her life holding on.
It felt like forever since they had spoken.
"Hmm, this is bad."
Azalea jumped in surprise.
The heavy footsteps of Archer carried him to the side of Lady Tevos. The human leaned down with a finger tucked under his chin, assessing the comatose patient.
"How did you come in he—!?"
"I waited for you to finish your conversation," he interrupted.
The commando stomped forward, "That doesn't answer my—"
The human held out a hand to stop her, unmoved from his position.
He blew air but mist shot out instead, and for some reason, he found that fascinating.
Now that she thought of it, it is unusually cold in here.
"You need her to wake up, right?" he asked, "And the doctors have no idea how."
His words stopped her from taking another step. But just for a moment. The stress of the day was already threatening to blow up and she needed to prepare for when Messere Rika would return.
"I can help her."
Azalea felt her heart stop at those words. No. No, don't get your hopes up. He's no healer. His background would have revealed that.
But she found herself curious, nonetheless.
Perhaps. Maybe.
"How…?"
But instead of answering—he stood.
In all her life, she had witnessed everything from gang warfare to high-level company dealings that decided the fate of nations. She had learned that the words 'strength' and 'power' were often used interchangeably, but linguistically, in any known language in the galaxy—there was a difference.
There are those who wield a fountain of one but lacked the other. An imbalance that could be sensed by anyone, if not put into words.
But what of those that wielded both?
Lady Rika T'lain was a Valyer. One of the 10 Sword Saints from the Arkadium, the martial school of war, and perhaps one of the most lethal combatants in all of asari, if not known, space.
She was but one that wielded both in spades.
This human…
His eyes glowed under the darkness of the room, like that of burnished steel. And they were directed right at her.
He need not ask, but he did so anyway. Because under those eyes, in the presence of his power—she knew that he... could do anything.
Strength was the ability to endure.
A resilience to pressure that could withstand the tribulations of the world.
It was defiance made manifest. A defiance that even someone like her could wield.
I am Tevos Naraius.
And I would be strong. Even when the tears threatened to breakthrough. Even under the sharp and dull pain of their beatings.
I would be strong.
"This little bitch is pretty tough, ain't she?" a kidnapper said.
"Fuck, you have no idea what kind of family took you in, do you? Of course not. You're just a little girl caught up in one of their schemes."
I felt the cracks of my lips bleed as my eyes met hers.
"You're tougher than most, I'll give you that. Not just anyone could keep sane after a few weeks of going through the shit you went through.
"But listen here, " the kidnapper said, leaning in close. "No one lasts forever. So you better hope that your new mommy pays up for your release."
Life had recently been a rush of turmoil. And even then, thoughts of that flower appeared in my mind.
Perhaps it was all the built of stress that got to me. Maybe it was the scarce amount of food and water they gave—but I reached out for that flower.
A delusion born from all this trauma.
Mom, I'm… I'm sorry, I thought with a sad smile. I wish… I wish I was strong enough.
I did not know why he appeared that day.
But for the first time, fate had answered my plea.
A rough and weary hand caught mine.
His appearance was unlike anything I've seen. An alien that was so close to looking like any asari but just wasn't. Yet, I was not afraid. Not afraid of thisman dressed in crimson red, with pants of onyx black, and hair of snow-white.
"Do you trust me?" he would ask.
With half-studded eyes, I gently nodded.
And the room was bathed in golden light.
†
I remembered sitting by a lone tree, its branches creaking under the sway of a gentle breeze.
I remembered the sea of endless colors, its visage stretching beyond the boundary.
I remembered the world as it once was, silver towers that threatened to break through the heavens.
As it once was.
To me, this was my world now. An oasis where reality and fantasy were indistinguishable. Of dreamy perennials endless in their horizon. Boundless in their bounty.
"It's called an Aster."
A gentle and sudden voice had me look up, breaking through the shell of my thoughts. A little girl not so much older than myself greeted me with a warm smile.
"The flower in your hand," she pointed, "is called an Aster."
Ah, yes. She was my sister now. A stranger up until a few days ago.
I looked from the field of flowers around me to the bloom in my hand.
Thessia had always been big, but all I knew then were the moments I lived a life like any little girl. The aircars that whizzed high in the sky, a gentle hand that pulled me along down the street, and a warmth, waiting for me at home.
The beauty here was unlike anything I've known, but for all its colors, it lacked the familiar spark I had once known. The diverse fields of flowers so meticulously crafted were familiar, however. With the guidance and care I found myself yearning for. The Naraius lands were just that, a garden unlike any in Thessia.
And for good reason. Did you know that ecologists and botanists all across the world protested the mixture of both alien and native fauna? It was for a good reason, obviously, as the impact of alien lifeforms could impact the environment of the planet in unforeseen ways.
And yet, the Naraius family did so with defiance.
A defiance that I later came to appreciate as I grew older. And one exemplified by how the gardens thrived under weathered scrutiny.
From their existence gave rise to the genera unforeseen anywhere in the galaxy… to the very bloom held delicately in my hands.
Ever so gently, I brought it closer before me. And like a fan, twirled when I rubbed the stem with my thumb across the edge of my index finger.
Bright and yellow was its center—a stigma—as it's called.
"An Aster…" I repeated, naive reverence naked for all to see.
And as I stared, I was drawn further in—caught in its rapture. Memories of broken promises and tears crept into my vision.
But the purple, so magnificent, so powerful… washed it all away.
All that was left was a future. My future.
Defiance yet to be written, and a future held so delicately in the palm of my hands.
Archer was annoyed.
Despite all that he's seen in his life—afterlife, whatever—there were times when even someone like him could be amazed.
And being in the Citadel happened to be one of those times. Like something torn from the sci-fi movies of his youth.
He rarely, if ever, had a chance to explore interests outside his line of work, but in this one rare instance, he finally had a chance to do just that. A drastic change from the static thoughts he constantly held. Amusingly, he was surprised that he retained the ability to feel such wonder in the first place.
As fascinating as the alien sitting across from him was, he just wanted to leave.
"Shirou Emiya."
Piercing was his steel eyes when he looked up from his musings. Endless black were those of its speaker. Young—impulsive even—but tempered. Despite its alien nature, his own ancient eyes had seen much throughout the ages.
He let out a silent sigh.
"Archer. Just Archer is fine."
Amusingly, he thought he saw a flicker of annoyance in its—his eyes, but then again, it was his first time seeing an actual alien—a salarian, he corrected, such as this one.
"Well, Just Archer, you may call me Nolal."
He smirked at the unexpected humor. Despite his luck, he was eternally grateful that they could communicate. However the hell that worked.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Let's start from the beginning."
Just Archer nodded.
"What were you doing so late out this night?"
Hm, what was he doing? Everything happened so quickly. Even to someone like him. For some reason, he lacked the ability to use his spiritual form. And the stream of knowledge that was usually imparted to him before a summoning just wasn't there.
The authorities here are surprisingly fast.
This wasn't the worst interro—questioning room he's ever been in at least. But then again, the last time he was detained was when he was actually alive.
If only he could use Eye of the Mind here. Too bad there was no sense of danger. Yet.
But no use lamenting over things.
From his short existence here there was a surprising amount of resemblance to his old world.
Sure the people may be different, but from the few humans he's seen there had to be commonalities he could exploit.
"I was out for a walk."
Or he could try making it up as he goes and see where that takes him. If all else fails, he could just leave. Weird summoning as it was, he doubted that anything here could actually hurt him. Though, he'd rather not test that possibility just yet.
"Out for a walk," Nolal deadpanned. "At this hour and dressed like that?"
Oh, right.
"It's a necessity for my line of work. And besides, I'm new here," he shrugged, keeping his tone casual. "I'm still adjusting to the hours so I thought a late-night walk would help."
Half of what he said was technically true. From what he could tell from his host's expression, if he could read it correctly, there's no form of future tech present that could distinguish him from dishonesty. Otherwise, they would have known that he wasn't exactly… human.
But that isn't to say that the person across from him took everything he's said at face value.
Archer was a fish out of the water, even with the scant information he was given.
While he couldn't exactly compare alien behavior with the humans from his time, logically, they seem to follow some sort of protocol.
And the sequence of events unfolding came to a logical conclusion.
The prestigious-looking tower. The rapid response of authorities. The heavy guard on the way here. The type of questions he was asked.
And from those very questions he concluded that the person he saved wasn't exactly your ordinary citizen.
To get involved with someone like that while lacking crucial information was dangerous. The knowledge and wisdom he could have drawn on were mostly dependent on human behavior, while most everyone he's seen so far was, well, not exactly human.
And he was pretty sure he was summoned by her.
At least, she was a her, right? He couldn't tell with aliens, but it seemed so obvious with the blue ones.
A bit of a supposition, but the feeling in his gut agreed. For now, Archer has his goal.
Nolal was annoyed.
Annoyed that everyone else who could have been here was either busy or unavailable.
Annoyed that he was taken away from actual important things he was working on.
But most of all, annoyed that the human sitting right in front of him wasn't exactly normal.
Call it 'inductive reasoning,' because, from the evidence so far and his nonchalant attitude, he was certainly not normal.
A walk, huh?
But abnormal or not, he had to look at this with reason and logic anyways.
At the time, this Archer had every chance to do whatever nefarious things with the Councilor then. Instead, he simply handed her over. As he was told by his colleagues before they brought him in, Archer was calm, even with all the guns pointed at him. Not like someone caught in the act of doing something illegal.
But it was all too suspicious.
Perhaps that was why they brought him in here instead of calling in the usual detectives. A simple analyst made to interro—question—the subject already confirmed that his superiors knew of his talents, especially on human behavior.
How annoying.
Maybe he could get something before news broke out to the public. And Councilor Tevos had her fair share of admirers. Dealing with angry asari wasn't exactly fun.
Pft, not his problem to deal with.
Still, he did promise Pallin to do this.
He eyed the human sitting in front of him.
Neutral brows. Slightly parted lips. Shoulders lax. Chest marginally forward. Denotes confidence. Supremely so.
"If I may, what exactly do you do?" he asked.
Archer frowned. Interesting.
"Private contracting."
"Private contracting?" he repeated.
The man nodded.
Cases that involved high-profile figures like Councilors always denoted a certain level of scrutiny.
Nolal knew what he did for a living, of course. Besides, his outfit certainly did give out the impression of a soldier, even with all that bright red. Oddly enough, there were no kinetic barriers or outgoing communication devices detected. But his torso was encased in some sort of body armor.
The man was earthborn, never having been to the Citadel before. A freelancer that worked on legal, private security in Alliance territory. Background check fits so far; if a little scarce in actual info on the nature of his jobs.
His choice of career did trigger a red flag though. As well as the location of where they found him. For a freelance mercenary to be strolling around in the Silver City, someone like him wouldn't have been—shouldn't have been—let in in the first place. And why come to the Citadel now if all of his business was usually conducted in Alliance space?
Too coincidental. His clothing. His demeanor. His location. His job. His involvement. And strange enough, his lack of an omni-tool.
The timing was just too coincidental.
And none of that even explained how he did the things he did.
"I see," the salarian mumbled, eyeing the human. He brought up his arm and activated his omni-tool, typing in a couple of commands.
"Mr. Archer. I do find it remarkable that without biotics or a hardsuit that you were able to catch someone falling from the sixteenth story and come off uninjured as you look."
An orange haptic screen popped into existence in front of the man.
"I never knew humans were so physically capable."
Shown before him in high-definition were dents on the walkway, discovered shortly by C-Sec analysts.
"That sidewalk was made from a metal matrix hybrid composite with the ability to support over eight metric tons of weight. A fully armored krogan army could hop up and down that street without so much as causing a scratch."
Archer's expression remained unchanged, his grey eyes went over the display before looking back up. Whatever he expected the human to say was wiped away as he had the audacity to smirk at him.
"Perhaps I'm just stronger than I look."
He wanted to snort out a response. Unexpected and yet, unsurprised from the little he's seen of the human.
For however long Nolal indulged in his own 'hobby,' the unexpected was something of the norm.
However, it was never sitting in front of him like this. It was the little things that he noticed that were off, but knowing where to look allowed him to see it in plain sight.
And all it took was less than five minutes.
Logic and reason. Those were the tenets of every modern sapient species, but to his kind especially, they might as well be sacred script.
But when faced with the extraordinary, would it be enough?
He fell. From the top of that tower. Boot and knee marks match footwear and physic.
But no equipment or biotics? Unless part of some secret System's Alliance super-soldier program, then that is simply…
Archer wasn't a suspect. Not officially. And whether he knew it or not, C-Sec couldn't hold him longer than 24 hours without the appropriate permissions.
It was his job to locate patterns but the patterns don't exactly make sense.
Humans. So strange.
"No matter how one looks at it, what you did just wasn't possible. Not without biotics or some specially designed hardsuit."
And you clearly weren't trying to terminate or abduct the Councilor, so then—
"Archer…
Emiya Shirou…
"Who are you?"
What are you?
But before the man could respond, the doors slid open revealing a very annoyed asari in all-black marching right in.
She didn't even deign to give him a glance, her only focus was on the human who merely greeted her with a raised eyebrow.
"Up," her voice stern.
Not anyone recognizably important or from the station. No, wait…
He eyed her upper sleeve.
Dammit.
The salarian got up before the human did, having already understood the situation.
"A pleasure, Just Archer. It seems like your friends from high places have need of you."
He walked past the asari and even by his gaping colleagues in the hallway as if they weren't even there. It was out of his hands now.
Sorry, Executor. If Tevos's own came then not even you could override that given authority.
Nolal sat back down in his little corner of the station's work area, a tidy desk with not much to showcase in terms of personal decor.
But there was one thing he had. A reminder of his purpose here.
He buried a hand into his pocket, his thumb rubbing the polished metal he carried with him everywhere he went.
If logic and reason wouldn't give him the answers he wanted, then perhaps faith could point him to the right answers.
This isn't over, Shirou Emiya.
I still remembered the pitter-patter of my footsteps walking down that hallway next to the loggia.
They were always immaculate in their presentation, the hallways, I mean. The chirping melodies of the birds added to the scene, filling the air with their voice.
And the servants, ever so considerate, gave me a wide berth whenever they walked past me, barely an acknowledgment to my presence. How respectful.
I felt my head hang a little lower.
But it was to be, the origins of my birth a hanging fruit for all those who knew even a little of me.
Everything about that day was so crystal clear to me. Unlike the skies, cloudy as they were then. Mother and sister were gone for the day and I had the estate all to my own.
In hindsight, it was a perfect moment, all things considered.
That was where I found myself, as if in a single moment, a blindfold over my eyes with my hands and feet bounded.
I remembered struggling, yelling out, only to hear my own muffled voice.
How did this happen, a rational part of me wondered in my stupor.
Someone came stomping in, their steps filled with impatience and anger.
"Shut the fuck up!" to what I assumed was an asari.
I tried, I truly did. Fear came lancing down my spine at her words. But the kick to my gut told me that I didn't try hard enough. Not with the sniffles coming out.
I felt like throwing up, but I couldn't, even if I wanted to. So confused and scared as I was, I didn't want to be here. Alone in the dark, I mean.
Mo—She… had always said to keep my chin up, to smile even in the darkest of times. Because to smile even when it hurts… is strength.
A lesson my dazed little mind clung to in those dark hours.
Tears came, as expected, but I kept myself quiet. Quiet as the hours—then the days—went on. When my captors came and fed me. When I relieved myself under their supervision. Because I knew then, that despite the darkness that was all around me, I had to keep my chin up and smile.
I would be strong.
After Azalea's little stunt at C-Sec Headquarters, the walk to the aircar went uninterrupted, despite all the angry looks from the turians she walked by. Archer agreed to accompany her after a brief introduction. The ride was going smoothly too. Thankfully, there was a lack of traffic this early in the morning.
Claim the wins, however small, a voice rang in her head.
In the brief time humans have lived in the Citadel, Azalea had never seen a human dressed like him before.
He was slightly taller than the average male of his kind. White 'hair,' as they call it, that's partially slicked back. Tan skin with eyes so grey they matched the color of unpolished steel. And those muscles; corded and tight, as seen through his black armor.
Is this a vain thing? she wondered, eyeing the abs. Then again, she was an asari. A race with a reputation for being vain at times.
The human gave off an air of a warrior of some sort. Almost like those of the Sohei, or a Justicar.
The red certainly fits with the latter.
"Is everything alright?" the human asked in the backseat.
Azalea would have jumped from her musings if it wasn't for her discipline.
No. No, it is not.
"For now," she managed to sound out.
She really didn't want to think about it.
Azalea felt an odd tension in the air as silence settled in. Even when she didn't want too, she couldn't help but think back. Of what she said. Of what she saw. Of what had happened.
"Do you think anyone would really care… if I just let it all go?"
Her breathing became heavy, holding back the torrent of emotions.
Here she was, thoughts drifting of the human she had just picked up while Lady Tevos lay comatose.
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Toxicology came out clean and there were no discernable physical marks.
So then why?
The healers are doing everything they can, but it isn't honestly much. What can chirurgeons heal when there's nothing to heal?
She had to be patient. She had to learn how to. But this… this is maddening.
Why, Lady Tevos, why won't you wake up?
"Hey, HEY! Watch out!"
Azalea quickly looked up and jerked the steering wheel before smashing into oncoming traffic, the alarm of the aircar going silent.
The commando activated the auto-pilot, her heart beating like a drum as she leaned back.
"I… I apologize," she breathed out.
Get it together, Azalea. Lady Tevos would be disgusted with your lack of control.
She was sure of it, but after the last couple of weeks, she was unsure what she would think now.
The commando rubbed her shoulder, finding the gesture oddly soothing.
"You must be really close to her," his voice soft.
She didn't answer him at first, bringing her head down.
"I would like to think so."
The matron shook her head, collecting herself.
"I apologize for the display, Ser Emiya," bringing in more force into her tone. "Please, bear with me a moment longer. I only ask that you keep your questions to yourself for now. And please don't worry. We're not C-Sec. I won't hold you without due cause once this is over."
She could feel his eyes staring at the back of her crest, analyzing her words.
"The name is Archer and you can drop the Ser. But other than that, I understand."
"Thank you," she said, finding herself surprised when she released a held breath.
Undoing the autopilot, the rest of the trip went without another word or incident, Azalea keeping her focus on the drive.
She knew it wouldn't be long now before the press catches wind of the situation and chaos ensues. With the Citadel still recovering, the death of the Naraius Matriarch, and now this, she could already feel the stress piling on just thinking about it.
Perhaps she should send an apology and note of thanks to Lady Nassana later today.
At least, she was glad that C-Sec was still willing to forward current information on the investigation so far. Even with the stunt she pulled taking Archer away from them.
Normally, she wouldn't care how zealous C-Sec could sometimes be, but if Archer really wished harm to Lady Tevos, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop him.
She shook her head. Relying on someone else's intentions was a grave and naive security flaw.
But that doesn't change the fact that she owed him. She didn't care how he did it, she was just glad that there was someone there to catch her.
When I couldn't.
The matron brought the aircar in slowly to the parking area and the two stepped out.
In the middle of the Silver City was Lis'irha T'pejin Memorial Hospital. A place of healing exclusively dedicated to the Citadel's most wealthy and powerful.
With the investigation ongoing and the situation as it is, she made sure it was a virtual fortress.
As evident by the two fully armored and armed guards that came to greet her.
"Thank the Goddess, we were trying to contact you and feared the worst when you weren't responding."
Quickly she looked down at her omni-tool to see several priority messages blinking at the corner of the small display.
"Oh."
"Anyways, now that you're here you have to come up quickly!"
"What's happened?" Azalea's asked, her voice serious. "Did something go wrong?"
"Not exactly," she said, almost as if to bite her lower lip. "But someone from Thessia is here. A Valyer from the Arkadium."
The commando widened her eyes before suddenly taking off, leaving everyone behind in a state of shock.
The elevators were too slow.
In her thoughts, there was only one way up. The doors slid open, and there she stopped—at the base of the stairs.
Azalea Rais looked up. It's too bad there wasn't an opening at the center.
The commando crouched down into a sprinter's stance and closed her eyes.
The world around her ceased to be, and at that moment, all she felt was the trickle of power flow through her. From her head, from her heart, from the tips of her fingers, a soft, blue aura encompassed her body like a second skin.
Willing the energy down to her feet, the energy pooled beneath her form.
It was in that instance, when eyes suddenly opened, that the world moved.
Like a bullet she shot forward, reorienting herself in mid-air thanks to the properties of element zero, and planted her feet on the wall like something out of a movie.
Up and up she went, repeating her flash steps in a zig-zag pattern until she reached the floor she was at.
The 17th. And coincidentally, it was the same number of seconds needed to reach it.
A brief flash of her master appeared in her mind. Too slow, she would have said.
Just like the sliding doors. Too damn slow to open up.
But as soon as they did she blurred once more through the hallway in a single flash step, blinking through nurses and doctors standing her way.
A Valyer. Here. Her thoughts raced.
Things were in motion too quickly. It hadn't even been a full day since the incident.
Azalea was politically savvy enough to know that sending a Valyer outside of asari space was monumental. Sending a Justicar is terrifying enough, but a Valyer could mean a number of things. Some potentially worst.
With them, it's especially important with whom they sent as well.
The commando stopped just short of Lady Tevos's room, the placed guards surprised at her sudden appearance.
"M-ma'am!"
Azalea straightened herself up, settling her thoughts and the beat of her heart.
"Report."
The two looked at each other before the one closest to her answered.
"All she gave us was a confirmation of her status as someone from the Arkadium and a name. Nothing else."
"Her name?"
The guard nodded.
"Lady Rika T'lain, Valyer of the Wandering Blade."
"Ah, hello there."
Her voice was melodious, like those from the consort. A type of voice that was almost engineered to lower your guard.
She wore a shapely lakrasheen, a traditional dress from the southern areas of Thessia, and even in the darkness of the room, the commando could tell there was more to the dress than it seemed.
Just like the unusually long warp blade at her waist. How she got that through customs was anyone's guess.
"Am I to believe that you are the one called, 'Azalea Rais,' her ladyship's captain of the guard?" she asked.
"I am. You must be Lady Rika T'lain," Azalea returned, a wisp of mist coming out. She tried hard to keep her voice from sounding guarded.
The Valyer turned to her, a veil covering her upper face, but a smile that felt oddly endearing greeted her.
Azalea's eyes widened at its familiarity.
"I had felt the flow of the Art streaming through the hallways. I am glad that the inheritance of power still resides within you."
Her words added to her shock.
So that's who she is.
She drew upon the teachings of Siara to calm her heart.
"I thank you for your praise, Messere Rika," offering a slight bow. "Though I am not averse to your presence, I am curious at the nature of your visit."
"Ah, yes," she turned away from the commando and to the occupant laying in the bed. The EKG's steady beep gently filled the air.
"I was sent by the High Matriarchs to make an assessment of the situation."
"I… I could only assume. And may I ask what this 'assessment' and 'situation' entails?" Azalea cautiously asked.
"Whether or not Tevos Naraius is fit to continue her duty as Counselor for the Republics."
She took a step forward, "But my Lady, it hasn't even been a full day. Surely you could withhold your assessment until she awakens?"
"It's not what you think, Serah Rais," softly shaking her head. "There had been unfortunate discoveries regarding House Naraius with past financial dealings made illegal by both Council and Republic law. It's unfortunate that when I came to make my inquires that I find her in such a state."
She held back her words, afraid of saying the wrong thing. It's true that she knew some of Tevos's dealings back when she was a member of the board, as well as that incident, but she tended to look away. If only for her own peace of mind.
Still…
"My lady, what would they have done if they found her guilty of these suspicions?" she carefully asked.
"That is not for me to decide. I was only requested to escort her back to Thessia if she were found wanting."
"But she's the Councilor! She isn't beholden to regular laws of the Republic unless there was an issued subpoena. And that's only if there's a majority vote by the Chamber of Matriarchs!"
Rika T'lain's eyes never left the slumbering Councilor, taking a moment to answer the Captain's outburst.
"There was a vote held two days ago," she gently stated. "It was made after the death of the Naraius High Matriarch. Paperwork and dealings were made aware to the Chamber by none other than Selica Naraius and in a unanimous vote, Councilor Tevos Naraius was to be brought forth to the Matriarchs for judgment."
Azalea almost felt herself fall to her knees. It was bad enough to have recently been informed by the High Matriarch's death, but to hear that none other than her Lady's own sister took this action against her?
"After the presented evidence," seemingly unaware of Azalea's turmoil, "There were demands to send in the Justicars. It was House Beyfor that help mediate the outrage and requested the Arkadium to instead send one of their own. And thus, I was sent."
"The… Beyfors?" Azalea asked, dumbfounded. "Why would they mediate on the matter?"
"I know not why. The intricacies of such a decision elude me, even in the face of the family's… discontent with one another."
The matron took a silent, deep breath. Even if Lady Tevos would never awaken again, they would strip her of every honor, position, and reference of her across Council space. The Chamber of Matriarchs could be vindictive that way if it's as bad as she thinks it is.
"What will you do now, Messere Rika?"
"It's unfortunate, but I was asked to bring her in. A transfer to a more suitable establishment in Thessia where she will be observed and further assessed."
Azalea knew she had to stop it. At the moment, Thessia was the most dangerous place Lady Tevos could be at the moment.
The betrayal of Lady Selica Naraius, the unanimous vote of the High Matriarchs, using a Valyer as a messenger/escort, of this Rika T'lain, the timing of it all. It's rife with the stench of political maneuvering. One she was hopeless to even begin to understand.
Under their care, there's no telling what they would do to her.
Lady Tevos had to wake up now more than ever. As Councilor and declared High Matriarch of the Naraius family by inheritance, only she could find a way out of this predicament.
She knew what she had to do. In the art of war, redirecting the floodwaters is sometimes held as the wisest decision.
She had to buy time.
"Messere Rika, I have no qualms with a transfer to Thessia. I only ask, as captain of her guard, that she remains until the chirurgeons finish their own tests."
She had to buy time and find a way to wake her.
The Valyer turned to her finally, unseen eyes assessing the captain. She saw her frustration. She saw her panic. Even under the veil and in the darkness of this room, she saw it all.
Azalea Rais, you are just like how your mother had described you.
"I am sorry, Serah Rais. Right before your presence was felt, I was sent a message to transfer her to an already arranged ship at the docks. It is now out of my hands."
And just like that, the decision was already made.
The Valyer felt a dash of sympathy watching the matron freeze. Her eyes were drawn to the emblem on her upper sleeve.
It must have been hard. Hard to feel powerless when the one to whom you were sworn to protect was taken away. I know not how she earned your loyalty, Azalea Rais, but it was wasted. Wasted on someone like her.
Even the Valyer knew this was a power grab in the making. Though she lacked the privy of the information discussed by the Matriarchs that day, she knew enough about Tevos Naraius that it disgusted her.
The question is, then, were the events leading up to the Councilor's current state an opportunity taken, or orchestrated?
Either way, the sins of the past had finally made themselves known.
Her breaths were soft and gentle. Many would even say 'weak.' She was shorter than the average person. It may have contributed to those kinds of first impressions.
Perhaps, that was why…
To be strong. To grab hold of destiny.
It was never said in so plain words, but the meaning and poise were felt all the same. In every action, in every word.
Tevos Naraius was not one to back down.
Yet here she lay. The EKG the sole indicator of her life holding on.
It felt like forever since they had spoken.
"Hmm, this is bad."
Azalea jumped in surprise.
The heavy footsteps of Archer carried him to the side of Lady Tevos. The human leaned down with a finger tucked under his chin, assessing the comatose patient.
"How did you come in he—!?"
"I waited for you to finish your conversation," he interrupted.
The commando stomped forward, "That doesn't answer my—"
The human held out a hand to stop her, unmoved from his position.
He blew air but mist shot out instead, and for some reason, he found that fascinating.
Now that she thought of it, it is unusually cold in here.
"You need her to wake up, right?" he asked, "And the doctors have no idea how."
His words stopped her from taking another step. But just for a moment. The stress of the day was already threatening to blow up and she needed to prepare for when Messere Rika would return.
"I can help her."
Azalea felt her heart stop at those words. No. No, don't get your hopes up. He's no healer. His background would have revealed that.
But she found herself curious, nonetheless.
Perhaps. Maybe.
"How…?"
But instead of answering—he stood.
In all her life, she had witnessed everything from gang warfare to high-level company dealings that decided the fate of nations. She had learned that the words 'strength' and 'power' were often used interchangeably, but linguistically, in any known language in the galaxy—there was a difference.
There are those who wield a fountain of one but lacked the other. An imbalance that could be sensed by anyone, if not put into words.
But what of those that wielded both?
Lady Rika T'lain was a Valyer. One of the 10 Sword Saints from the Arkadium, the martial school of war, and perhaps one of the most lethal combatants in all of asari, if not known, space.
She was but one that wielded both in spades.
This human…
His eyes glowed under the darkness of the room, like that of burnished steel. And they were directed right at her.
He need not ask, but he did so anyway. Because under those eyes, in the presence of his power—she knew that he... could do anything.
Strength was the ability to endure.
A resilience to pressure that could withstand the tribulations of the world.
It was defiance made manifest. A defiance that even someone like her could wield.
I am Tevos Naraius.
And I would be strong. Even when the tears threatened to breakthrough. Even under the sharp and dull pain of their beatings.
I would be strong.
"This little bitch is pretty tough, ain't she?" a kidnapper said.
"Fuck, you have no idea what kind of family took you in, do you? Of course not. You're just a little girl caught up in one of their schemes."
I felt the cracks of my lips bleed as my eyes met hers.
"You're tougher than most, I'll give you that. Not just anyone could keep sane after a few weeks of going through the shit you went through.
"But listen here, " the kidnapper said, leaning in close. "No one lasts forever. So you better hope that your new mommy pays up for your release."
Life had recently been a rush of turmoil. And even then, thoughts of that flower appeared in my mind.
Perhaps it was all the built of stress that got to me. Maybe it was the scarce amount of food and water they gave—but I reached out for that flower.
A delusion born from all this trauma.
Mom, I'm… I'm sorry, I thought with a sad smile. I wish… I wish I was strong enough.
I did not know why he appeared that day.
But for the first time, fate had answered my plea.
A rough and weary hand caught mine.
His appearance was unlike anything I've seen. An alien that was so close to looking like any asari but just wasn't. Yet, I was not afraid. Not afraid of this
"Do you trust me?" he would ask.
With half-studded eyes, I gently nodded.
And the room was bathed in golden light.
†
Last edited:
Organizations (Part 1) [DECLASSIFIED]
Organizations
(Part 1)
[DECLASSIFIED]
(Part 1)
[DECLASSIFIED]
Threat Level: Delta+
Tier: 3
Type: Grey
Known as the 'Old Families', 'Old Families of Thessia', 'Great Houses', or their more proper name, the 'Great Houses of Thessia', they are the true power behind the [asari] Republic, and is the main reason for the asari's interstellar dominance in the galaxy.
But the Great Houses wouldn't exist if not for their secrets. An ancient/prothean Beacon kept hidden in the Temple of Athame. This Beacon possesses, perhaps, the most complete alien repository in the known galaxy, coupled with a functional prothean AI that acts as a codec.
The knowledge from the Beacon had helped form asari society and culture to this day, holding a fair amount of knowledge of the anomalous itself.
The Naraius family were the initial caretakers of its more dangerous secrets. And the asari have known about the Reaper threat since its inception. After the fall of the protheans, the Naraius clan had taken up the mantle against the Reapers by shaping the development of asari society. This heavily influenced early Thessian warrior culture and created the mythological 'advanced' society of Arda amidst a bronze age culture. These developments, however, have led the asari people into various unification wars spanning large regions over the millennia that would eventually cumulate to a bloody world war as clan-led nations advanced themselves in military technology.
Finally united under one, single banner, the Naraius family would enact the second stage of their long-term plan and fast-track development of their society.
Various clans, weary of war, would later form secret alliances to oppose the Naraius hegemony. While the Naraius clan would reform the most powerful of them as Great Families as a form of appeasement, discontent still resides amongst a number of their members. Led by the Beyfors, it took years of cultivating these alliances, manipulation of the local and private economies, rising and complex influence, and later discovery and covert study of the Beacon under the noses of the Naraius family. They would eventually succeed in overthrowing them a thousand years later, a mere century away from the discovery of the Citadel. It's only unfortunate that the High Matriarch of the Beyfors at the time would then be more in line with the tenants of Naraius beliefs, a far cry from what the other Great Families had originally envisioned. This drastic shift of policy was rumored to be attributed to the Beacon itself.
With the Beyfor family's successful coup, the Naraius family was reduced to a shadow of its former self. While they were too powerful and influential to be outright expelled, still retaining their Great House status, they were now seen more as pariahs by the rest of the Great Houses.
To quell the more vocal members of her family, the Beyfor High Matriarch enacted policies and legislation that would later form the bedrock of representative democracy, the beginnings of the modern [Asari] Republics. As asari society further advanced, reformation of the government would take place, and the space age would bring colonized worlds into this asari state. As the Republics grew more and more, interstellar communication became cheaper and more advanced, until a reformation of the government reformed the republic into an E-Democracy, with representatives now representing individual worlds.
But true power did not lie with the democratic government, rather still with the Great Houses of Thessia. Indeed, to the wider public, the Great Families would be seen in a similar sense to the ceremonial royal families of England, but their vast wealth, monopoly of the Beacon, vast personal armies, and their influence over members of various elected officials solidified their power.
But every great power would unintentionally bring rise to a counterbalance. The Order of Athame, whom they had ignored throughout the centuries, had not only consolidated the religious to their side in a growing secular society but had begun stamping out the other smaller orders of the pantheon in a secret thousand-year bloody crusade. It was said that the creation of Siari was secretly crafted and introduced by House Artera, inspired by the salarian Wheel religion during their early cultural exchanges, to counter the influence of Athame indoctrination.
Illium would later become a decisive player in interstellar politics. Disparate asari members would form powerful companies that were invested by various alien allies (which was rumored to have been spearheaded by the STG and ████████) as a means to curve the influence of the Great Houses. This had shaped the current political landscape today, with power being split between the Old Houses of Thessia, the 'New Families' of Illium, and the Order of Athame (with which the Beacon lies in their temple).
The Great Houses, in the past thousand years, were behind the dominance of the asari today. A good example was House T'sodri, with their monopoly of the entertainment business, who had endeavored to spread asari culture across Council space which led to the most successful cultural-led project in history, accounting for the dominance and prevalence of asari culture. The planet Athalia, under House T'sodri, became known as the entertainment capital of the galaxy (This would later be supplanted by Illium). The dominance was so complete that it entangles turian society so deeply, and is an aspect the Union is hard-pressed to counter.
But perhaps the biggest indicator for the power wielded by the Great Houses of Thessia was the military.
The smallest of the Three Great Powers, asari would field, what the turians would call, a token force relative to its size. In actuality, the majority of its fleet is under mothball, hidden away in off-the-record hanger worlds under the semi-secret Republic Research and Development department.
Enigmatic by reputation, hardly anyone knows of its existence. But the opposite can be said to the various intelligence agencies across the galaxy.
Strangely enough, the mothballed ships are not under the purview of the Republic Armed Forces, but rather the R&D. Several intelligent analysts have concluded that the suspicious leaps of defensive & shield research, optronics, and DEWs that keep the asari at the technological edge, are to be attributed to the R&D department.
In fact, to the STG, the Republic's R&D is one of the golden [apples] to infiltrate, as its secrets may shift the balance of power decisively. Rumors, such as research to empower biotics into near strategic assets, proliferate certain groups amongst the STG but fortunately, and unbeknownst to them, progress has slowed thanks to declining interest and frustrations over the asari genome.
In general, the asari have a far more powerful naval force that not even the STG fully understands. Unfortunately, where the STG failed, the Shadow Broker was able to acquire this knowledge, along with a number of more sensitive projects. The Shadow Broker has used this leverage to gain certain favors amongst the Great Houses.
Of particular note, the Beyfors have also utilized knowledge within the Beacon to amplify certain traits within individuals in their family, unbeknownst to even the rest of their peers. These individuals hold high positions within the family, gaining knowledge of things not even the ████████ ██, with its long existence, possesses. It's said that this knowledge somehow pertains to the newly discovered humanity and now the Beyfors are leading a shift of their cultural and economic might to enrapture humans under their fold with rabid fervor.
One of the more unsettling things recently uncovered by the Beacon is the ██████████.
Regarding the anomalous, while both the [salarian] Union and the [asari] Republics generally avoid delving too deeply into them, they cannot avoid it. Their solutions to these problems, however, differ. While the ████████ ██ takes all responsibility away from the main salarian government to deal with it itself, the asari, on the other hand, sends the 'problem' to the Citadel under secret treaties with the Order of Athame.
It's interesting to note that only the Beyfors and the Naraius families have knowledge of the true origins of the asari, and this point of contention is believed to be a driving force in expelling the Naraius family from the Great Houses—and from existence. The recent Naraius High Matriarch had used this leverage to keep the Beyfors at bay, but with her recent death, removed the protection she had over the family. Tevos Nariaus was next in line to acquire this secret, but the intervention by Matriarch ██████████ have ended the sharing of this secret.
Tier: 3
Type: Grey
Known as the 'Old Families', 'Old Families of Thessia', 'Great Houses', or their more proper name, the 'Great Houses of Thessia', they are the true power behind the [asari] Republic, and is the main reason for the asari's interstellar dominance in the galaxy.
But the Great Houses wouldn't exist if not for their secrets. An ancient/prothean Beacon kept hidden in the Temple of Athame. This Beacon possesses, perhaps, the most complete alien repository in the known galaxy, coupled with a functional prothean AI that acts as a codec.
The knowledge from the Beacon had helped form asari society and culture to this day, holding a fair amount of knowledge of the anomalous itself.
The Naraius family were the initial caretakers of its more dangerous secrets. And the asari have known about the Reaper threat since its inception. After the fall of the protheans, the Naraius clan had taken up the mantle against the Reapers by shaping the development of asari society. This heavily influenced early Thessian warrior culture and created the mythological 'advanced' society of Arda amidst a bronze age culture. These developments, however, have led the asari people into various unification wars spanning large regions over the millennia that would eventually cumulate to a bloody world war as clan-led nations advanced themselves in military technology.
Finally united under one, single banner, the Naraius family would enact the second stage of their long-term plan and fast-track development of their society.
Various clans, weary of war, would later form secret alliances to oppose the Naraius hegemony. While the Naraius clan would reform the most powerful of them as Great Families as a form of appeasement, discontent still resides amongst a number of their members. Led by the Beyfors, it took years of cultivating these alliances, manipulation of the local and private economies, rising and complex influence, and later discovery and covert study of the Beacon under the noses of the Naraius family. They would eventually succeed in overthrowing them a thousand years later, a mere century away from the discovery of the Citadel. It's only unfortunate that the High Matriarch of the Beyfors at the time would then be more in line with the tenants of Naraius beliefs, a far cry from what the other Great Families had originally envisioned. This drastic shift of policy was rumored to be attributed to the Beacon itself.
With the Beyfor family's successful coup, the Naraius family was reduced to a shadow of its former self. While they were too powerful and influential to be outright expelled, still retaining their Great House status, they were now seen more as pariahs by the rest of the Great Houses.
To quell the more vocal members of her family, the Beyfor High Matriarch enacted policies and legislation that would later form the bedrock of representative democracy, the beginnings of the modern [Asari] Republics. As asari society further advanced, reformation of the government would take place, and the space age would bring colonized worlds into this asari state. As the Republics grew more and more, interstellar communication became cheaper and more advanced, until a reformation of the government reformed the republic into an E-Democracy, with representatives now representing individual worlds.
But true power did not lie with the democratic government, rather still with the Great Houses of Thessia. Indeed, to the wider public, the Great Families would be seen in a similar sense to the ceremonial royal families of England, but their vast wealth, monopoly of the Beacon, vast personal armies, and their influence over members of various elected officials solidified their power.
But every great power would unintentionally bring rise to a counterbalance. The Order of Athame, whom they had ignored throughout the centuries, had not only consolidated the religious to their side in a growing secular society but had begun stamping out the other smaller orders of the pantheon in a secret thousand-year bloody crusade. It was said that the creation of Siari was secretly crafted and introduced by House Artera, inspired by the salarian Wheel religion during their early cultural exchanges, to counter the influence of Athame indoctrination.
Illium would later become a decisive player in interstellar politics. Disparate asari members would form powerful companies that were invested by various alien allies (which was rumored to have been spearheaded by the STG and ████████) as a means to curve the influence of the Great Houses. This had shaped the current political landscape today, with power being split between the Old Houses of Thessia, the 'New Families' of Illium, and the Order of Athame (with which the Beacon lies in their temple).
The Great Houses, in the past thousand years, were behind the dominance of the asari today. A good example was House T'sodri, with their monopoly of the entertainment business, who had endeavored to spread asari culture across Council space which led to the most successful cultural-led project in history, accounting for the dominance and prevalence of asari culture. The planet Athalia, under House T'sodri, became known as the entertainment capital of the galaxy (This would later be supplanted by Illium). The dominance was so complete that it entangles turian society so deeply, and is an aspect the Union is hard-pressed to counter.
But perhaps the biggest indicator for the power wielded by the Great Houses of Thessia was the military.
The smallest of the Three Great Powers, asari would field, what the turians would call, a token force relative to its size. In actuality, the majority of its fleet is under mothball, hidden away in off-the-record hanger worlds under the semi-secret Republic Research and Development department.
Enigmatic by reputation, hardly anyone knows of its existence. But the opposite can be said to the various intelligence agencies across the galaxy.
Strangely enough, the mothballed ships are not under the purview of the Republic Armed Forces, but rather the R&D. Several intelligent analysts have concluded that the suspicious leaps of defensive & shield research, optronics, and DEWs that keep the asari at the technological edge, are to be attributed to the R&D department.
In fact, to the STG, the Republic's R&D is one of the golden [apples] to infiltrate, as its secrets may shift the balance of power decisively. Rumors, such as research to empower biotics into near strategic assets, proliferate certain groups amongst the STG but fortunately, and unbeknownst to them, progress has slowed thanks to declining interest and frustrations over the asari genome.
In general, the asari have a far more powerful naval force that not even the STG fully understands. Unfortunately, where the STG failed, the Shadow Broker was able to acquire this knowledge, along with a number of more sensitive projects. The Shadow Broker has used this leverage to gain certain favors amongst the Great Houses.
Of particular note, the Beyfors have also utilized knowledge within the Beacon to amplify certain traits within individuals in their family, unbeknownst to even the rest of their peers. These individuals hold high positions within the family, gaining knowledge of things not even the ████████ ██, with its long existence, possesses. It's said that this knowledge somehow pertains to the newly discovered humanity and now the Beyfors are leading a shift of their cultural and economic might to enrapture humans under their fold with rabid fervor.
One of the more unsettling things recently uncovered by the Beacon is the ██████████.
Regarding the anomalous, while both the [salarian] Union and the [asari] Republics generally avoid delving too deeply into them, they cannot avoid it. Their solutions to these problems, however, differ. While the ████████ ██ takes all responsibility away from the main salarian government to deal with it itself, the asari, on the other hand, sends the 'problem' to the Citadel under secret treaties with the Order of Athame.
It's interesting to note that only the Beyfors and the Naraius families have knowledge of the true origins of the asari, and this point of contention is believed to be a driving force in expelling the Naraius family from the Great Houses—and from existence. The recent Naraius High Matriarch had used this leverage to keep the Beyfors at bay, but with her recent death, removed the protection she had over the family. Tevos Nariaus was next in line to acquire this secret, but the intervention by Matriarch ██████████ have ended the sharing of this secret.
Threat Level: Alpha
Tier: 1.5
Type: Black
'Alliance Intelligence' is the cumulative name for the System Alliance's various intelligence organs. Similar to the Special Task Group, most of these organizations are mundane in origins and execution. There are three outliers within Alliance Intelligence: the Directorate of Intelligence, to whom lead the organizations, the Department of Secret Service (DSS), which is their domestic intelligence and counter-intelligence agency, and the Secret Intelligence Agency (SIA), handling foreign intelligence collection and analysis.
These intelligence communities are handled, more or less, by the fiercely loyal Dioland family, █ ██████ ██ ███████ that trace their origin to the founding of the United States. Serving as the heads of Alliance Intelligence since their founding, they use various █████████, technologies, and manipulation of records to conceal their familiar looks and name. The family's origins are known only by the Prime Minister, certain members of both Parliament, and the general staff.
Unbeknownst to ████████ ██ ███ ███████ █████ and even to Cerberus, under the Dioland family, Alliance Intelligence is covertly keeping track of the various █████████ █████████████ on Earth while investigating signs of similar █████████ organizations throughout the galaxy.
Unfortunately, because of STG and asari meddling, they lack the necessary funding needed. Just as well, they lag behind the sheer capabilities of Cerberus, the STG, and even House T'haana, but under their newest Director, Melanie Smith (Dioland), is slowly overturning these disadvantages.
Considered a prodigy by her own family, she is the youngest member to take the position of Director and is quickly being identified as the driving force for the Alliance Intelligence's increased capabilities. For example, through blackmail alone, she was able to maneuver around political manipulation of certain members of Parliament to replace her, as well as counter several assassination attempts by Cerberus, the STG, and even the Shadow Broker.
Tier: 1.5
Type: Black
'Alliance Intelligence' is the cumulative name for the System Alliance's various intelligence organs. Similar to the Special Task Group, most of these organizations are mundane in origins and execution. There are three outliers within Alliance Intelligence: the Directorate of Intelligence, to whom lead the organizations, the Department of Secret Service (DSS), which is their domestic intelligence and counter-intelligence agency, and the Secret Intelligence Agency (SIA), handling foreign intelligence collection and analysis.
These intelligence communities are handled, more or less, by the fiercely loyal Dioland family, █ ██████ ██ ███████ that trace their origin to the founding of the United States. Serving as the heads of Alliance Intelligence since their founding, they use various █████████, technologies, and manipulation of records to conceal their familiar looks and name. The family's origins are known only by the Prime Minister, certain members of both Parliament, and the general staff.
Unbeknownst to ████████ ██ ███ ███████ █████ and even to Cerberus, under the Dioland family, Alliance Intelligence is covertly keeping track of the various █████████ █████████████ on Earth while investigating signs of similar █████████ organizations throughout the galaxy.
Unfortunately, because of STG and asari meddling, they lack the necessary funding needed. Just as well, they lag behind the sheer capabilities of Cerberus, the STG, and even House T'haana, but under their newest Director, Melanie Smith (Dioland), is slowly overturning these disadvantages.
Considered a prodigy by her own family, she is the youngest member to take the position of Director and is quickly being identified as the driving force for the Alliance Intelligence's increased capabilities. For example, through blackmail alone, she was able to maneuver around political manipulation of certain members of Parliament to replace her, as well as counter several assassination attempts by Cerberus, the STG, and even the Shadow Broker.
Threat Level: No Threat
Tier: 1-2
Type: Grey
While technically, the Hierarchy codifies freedom of religion as a right, not many within the Hierarchy claim to be actually religious. Indeed, an estimated 89% of the population declared themselves agnostic. According to research conducted by those from the ██████████, the larger a conglomeration of a turian population gathers than the decrease of religious inclination grows.
That isn't to say turians are adverse to worship in general. The endurance of ancestry worship is proof of this. Invoking the spirits, over time, has, more or less, fallen to an expression of disbelief or shock, like how a human atheist would say, "Oh my God!"
Ancestral worship has taken on a more human Buddhist or asari Siari approach, with an emphasis on the philosophical/metaphysical approach to life. Interestingly enough, this study was conducted in the first place because of recruited members from these separatist worlds. While some of these separatist colonies field a population near the millions, there are many of those sitting in the hundreds, which will be the focus of this segment.
The smaller the population, the more religiously inclined that society will be. What is strange, however, are the similarities these scattered cults have in their faith. While the absolute minutia isn't exactly the same with every group, the broad strokes are eerily similar enough to warrant investigation.
Note, there is no recorded text or rites performed by those affected by this phenomenon. The main avenue for gaining insight towards this cult can only be extracted from interviews.
It all starts with a figure named Sitrax. Sitrax is said to be the father of creation, who birthed many races under his fold. Life had sprung under his care, and everyone lived in harmony. Sitrax loved the world he built and even though he knew everything and everyone throughout creation, he enjoyed traveling the world to live amongst his children. It wasn't until he discovered a cave not of his own making, and with curiosity taking a hold of him, he delved into the cave alone.
After three days and three nights, he emerged a changed man. He had lost his youthful and vibrant glow, stoic and quieter than had ever been. That day, he held a contest, inviting all of his created children to join. It was said to be the first contest ever held, and it was a simple one: a race. A race from one end of the world to the other. While the details of this race varied, it was the Feraldis, a bone-like velociraptor with wings, that had won.
In victory, Sitrax offered his body to be feasted upon, which the Feraldis reluctantly did. The rest of creation watched as once the Feraldis finished his meal, he had changed. Changed into what we now know as the modern turian. Tired from his meal, he fell asleep and dreamt of fire and brimstone. When he later woke, the children of Sitrax were nowhere to be found, and he was left alone in this world.
As he wandered, he encountered the same cave Sitrax himself had found, and entered it himself. When he emerged, he emerged in what was called the Colorless World. He also did not emerge alone, as a near-identical version of himself left the cave with him. Near-identical except that the turian was female and her name was Celentia, and she was just as confused as he was.
In time, they had children and populated this world. Odd enough that the cave they emerged from simply disappeared, never to be found again.
While this was just a general summary of the origins of this cult, members would eventually start seeing visions of Sitrax. What is most striking to researchers was that Sitrax was not exactly a turian, as is found in most religious origin stories. In fact, Sitrax's description varied from one member to the other.
To one particular member, he resembled his late mother, whom he had last seen when he was five. To another, Sitrax resembled an asari idol he was infatuated with. There is a never agreed-upon vision of what Sitrax actually looked like.
Sitrax would usually show up in their dreams. In rarer cases, he would show up whenever the cult member would lose conscience unwillingly, like a fevered dream. Whatever the case, the image of Sitrax would always have a soothing effect on the individual and spur onwards until they solve their crisis.
There are a few requisites for the Cult of Sitrax to emerge. One: they must be in a company no more than a thousand, and two: they must live with these members for at least, one [Palaven] year. The Cult of Sitrax doesn't always emerge in the same way. Turian mercenary groups and even separatist terror cells have fallen under this phenomenon, its effects invigorating them in ways that had led to further bloodshed. On the other end, dreams of Sitrax have also been revealed to lost travelers, helping them guide their way back to civilization. There is no ethical choice to whom Sitrax would show himself towards.
Research is ongoing. At the moment, there are tests being conducted on whether this phenomenon is affected when a member is placed into Hierarchy society, or rather, any large turian population. Also, there have been no effects on aliens living amongst small turian communities. Of a notable point, is the similarities this tale of Sitrax has with the origins of man in the human Christian Bible.
At the moment, the members of the Cult of Sitrax are living contently with their lives, but recent events (such as the Siege of the Citadel) have spurned a newly added variance to the dream. One with an angry Sitrax spurring its members for preparations against what they call the 'Adversary' (another point of similarity with the human Abrahamic religions). While the Reapers may come to mind as to the identity of this 'Adversary', there is a new and notable distressing accompaniment to their dreams recently as well, that of an unidentified figure in a red gown, dancing under a cracked, red sky and falling black rain.
Tier: 1-2
Type: Grey
While technically, the Hierarchy codifies freedom of religion as a right, not many within the Hierarchy claim to be actually religious. Indeed, an estimated 89% of the population declared themselves agnostic. According to research conducted by those from the ██████████, the larger a conglomeration of a turian population gathers than the decrease of religious inclination grows.
That isn't to say turians are adverse to worship in general. The endurance of ancestry worship is proof of this. Invoking the spirits, over time, has, more or less, fallen to an expression of disbelief or shock, like how a human atheist would say, "Oh my God!"
Ancestral worship has taken on a more human Buddhist or asari Siari approach, with an emphasis on the philosophical/metaphysical approach to life. Interestingly enough, this study was conducted in the first place because of recruited members from these separatist worlds. While some of these separatist colonies field a population near the millions, there are many of those sitting in the hundreds, which will be the focus of this segment.
The smaller the population, the more religiously inclined that society will be. What is strange, however, are the similarities these scattered cults have in their faith. While the absolute minutia isn't exactly the same with every group, the broad strokes are eerily similar enough to warrant investigation.
Note, there is no recorded text or rites performed by those affected by this phenomenon. The main avenue for gaining insight towards this cult can only be extracted from interviews.
It all starts with a figure named Sitrax. Sitrax is said to be the father of creation, who birthed many races under his fold. Life had sprung under his care, and everyone lived in harmony. Sitrax loved the world he built and even though he knew everything and everyone throughout creation, he enjoyed traveling the world to live amongst his children. It wasn't until he discovered a cave not of his own making, and with curiosity taking a hold of him, he delved into the cave alone.
After three days and three nights, he emerged a changed man. He had lost his youthful and vibrant glow, stoic and quieter than had ever been. That day, he held a contest, inviting all of his created children to join. It was said to be the first contest ever held, and it was a simple one: a race. A race from one end of the world to the other. While the details of this race varied, it was the Feraldis, a bone-like velociraptor with wings, that had won.
In victory, Sitrax offered his body to be feasted upon, which the Feraldis reluctantly did. The rest of creation watched as once the Feraldis finished his meal, he had changed. Changed into what we now know as the modern turian. Tired from his meal, he fell asleep and dreamt of fire and brimstone. When he later woke, the children of Sitrax were nowhere to be found, and he was left alone in this world.
As he wandered, he encountered the same cave Sitrax himself had found, and entered it himself. When he emerged, he emerged in what was called the Colorless World. He also did not emerge alone, as a near-identical version of himself left the cave with him. Near-identical except that the turian was female and her name was Celentia, and she was just as confused as he was.
In time, they had children and populated this world. Odd enough that the cave they emerged from simply disappeared, never to be found again.
While this was just a general summary of the origins of this cult, members would eventually start seeing visions of Sitrax. What is most striking to researchers was that Sitrax was not exactly a turian, as is found in most religious origin stories. In fact, Sitrax's description varied from one member to the other.
To one particular member, he resembled his late mother, whom he had last seen when he was five. To another, Sitrax resembled an asari idol he was infatuated with. There is a never agreed-upon vision of what Sitrax actually looked like.
Sitrax would usually show up in their dreams. In rarer cases, he would show up whenever the cult member would lose conscience unwillingly, like a fevered dream. Whatever the case, the image of Sitrax would always have a soothing effect on the individual and spur onwards until they solve their crisis.
There are a few requisites for the Cult of Sitrax to emerge. One: they must be in a company no more than a thousand, and two: they must live with these members for at least, one [Palaven] year. The Cult of Sitrax doesn't always emerge in the same way. Turian mercenary groups and even separatist terror cells have fallen under this phenomenon, its effects invigorating them in ways that had led to further bloodshed. On the other end, dreams of Sitrax have also been revealed to lost travelers, helping them guide their way back to civilization. There is no ethical choice to whom Sitrax would show himself towards.
Research is ongoing. At the moment, there are tests being conducted on whether this phenomenon is affected when a member is placed into Hierarchy society, or rather, any large turian population. Also, there have been no effects on aliens living amongst small turian communities. Of a notable point, is the similarities this tale of Sitrax has with the origins of man in the human Christian Bible.
At the moment, the members of the Cult of Sitrax are living contently with their lives, but recent events (such as the Siege of the Citadel) have spurned a newly added variance to the dream. One with an angry Sitrax spurring its members for preparations against what they call the 'Adversary' (another point of similarity with the human Abrahamic religions). While the Reapers may come to mind as to the identity of this 'Adversary', there is a new and notable distressing accompaniment to their dreams recently as well, that of an unidentified figure in a red gown, dancing under a cracked, red sky and falling black rain.
Last edited:
Page 3
There is much for thee to see
Of a world beyond the glimmering steel
And pontification
Endless. Quaint
And yet, broken
As one befitting of theeeeeeeee
– █̶̧̱͇̗̺̜͍̱̦̱̭͈͎̺̺̩̬̜̼̖̎̿̑͒̀͗̈́͆̉̐͊̆͂̆̄̀̆͑͘͜͝ͅ█̴̖̗͂͛̇͑͒̒͑͊̓͠͝͝█̶̠̮̜̼͋͆̈́̓̌̊͒̅̽̾̓̎̾█̶̡͚̭̙̺͍͉̪͖̥̘̖̞̱̻͇̰̗͙͔̏͒̓͑͐̐̎͆̓͋̎͝█̵̢̯̠̳̫͔̝͚͕̞̺̬͎͒̌̀͊̆͂̄͋̑̓̈̄̊͌̂͐̇̋̉̕͠͝͠͝͠█̷̡̱̠̪̹̙̯̮̻̩̰̭̞̖̮̩̩̍͑̃̋͛̕͜͠͝͝ͅͅ█̴̨̢̨̺̙̗͔̠͙̰͓̞̤̗͔͓̰̠͔͍̤͕̗̖̙̠̹͔͗͊͜█̸̛͙͖̲̠̏̽̆̔̿́̾͌̈́͝͠█̴̢̢̬͎̥͙̰̦̲͓̟͉̺̞̝̻͓̬̔̉̾͒͜ͅ█̶̛̮͈̮̫̣̤͈̦̤͙͎̤̈́̀̅̉̄̐̅́̑̒̔̃͆̒̂̃̾̐̅̔̀̇̃̔̈́͊͌͘
Of a world beyond the glimmering steel
And pontification
Endless. Quaint
And yet, broken
As one befitting of theeeeeeeee
– █̶̧̱͇̗̺̜͍̱̦̱̭͈͎̺̺̩̬̜̼̖̎̿̑͒̀͗̈́͆̉̐͊̆͂̆̄̀̆͑͘͜͝ͅ█̴̖̗͂͛̇͑͒̒͑͊̓͠͝͝█̶̠̮̜̼͋͆̈́̓̌̊͒̅̽̾̓̎̾█̶̡͚̭̙̺͍͉̪͖̥̘̖̞̱̻͇̰̗͙͔̏͒̓͑͐̐̎͆̓͋̎͝█̵̢̯̠̳̫͔̝͚͕̞̺̬͎͒̌̀͊̆͂̄͋̑̓̈̄̊͌̂͐̇̋̉̕͠͝͠͝͠█̷̡̱̠̪̹̙̯̮̻̩̰̭̞̖̮̩̩̍͑̃̋͛̕͜͠͝͝ͅͅ█̴̨̢̨̺̙̗͔̠͙̰͓̞̤̗͔͓̰̠͔͍̤͕̗̖̙̠̹͔͗͊͜█̸̛͙͖̲̠̏̽̆̔̿́̾͌̈́͝͠█̴̢̢̬͎̥͙̰̦̲͓̟͉̺̞̝̻͓̬̔̉̾͒͜ͅ█̶̛̮͈̮̫̣̤͈̦̤͙͎̤̈́̀̅̉̄̐̅́̑̒̔̃͆̒̂̃̾̐̅̔̀̇̃̔̈́͊͌͘
Page 3
From endless dreams, she awakes.
A flash of golden light. A warmth that spreads throughout her body.
So familiar. So comforting.
As is the faint conversation heard in her waking slumber.
"What. Was. That?" an asari's voice, bewildered.
"It was exactly as I said it was," a male, confident and assured.
"Then… what you said earlier… It was true?"
"Yes."
She reached out in her mind—to that familiar voice. To that distant light.
"Arch… er," she mumbled, voice hoarse.
A shuffling of feet could be heard coming near her, followed by heavy footsteps.
"Hey. You should be fine now."
"What are you doing?!"
"I'm just seeing if she's actually awake."
"Don't just walk up to her like that, you might scare her!"
"From the way you described her, I'd imagine she was made of tougher stuff."
A new set of footsteps.
"Uh, ma'am…"
"Alright, alright. Stop pulling me."
"Only if you promise to stop being so crude! Ugh, I can't believe I was so polite to you earlier."
"That's not nice," she could almost feel him smirking. "Wasn't I the one who saved her? Twice, for that matter."
"Guys…!"
"Why do I feel like you're gonna hang this above my head?"
"Hoh? And why would I do that? I've only been the most gracious guest here."
"'Gracious' my shapely ass. You can't just storm in and out whenever you please…!"
"Like how you didn't just storm in C-Sec Headquarters earlier?"
"That's dif–"
"GUYS!"
Her eyes slowly opened.
Rays of the rising sun peeked through the thick curtains as three figures stood before her.
"Lady Tevos!" she heard her most trusted commando yell out. She nearly dashed to her side, pushing the other two away.
"And she tells me to not be crude…" she heard the male mumble.
"Are you feeling alright, Lady Tevos? Do you need some water? Of course you do. Mira! Get her some water!" she snapped at the third occupant.
The lieutenant sighed but went on her way, "Yes, ma'am."
"Lady Tevos, can you hear me?"
She couldn't help but chuckle at the antics. When was the last time she had seen Azalea like this?
Azalea's expression stood still yet, a sight unseemly in the natural order of the world.
"Yes, dear. I can hear you," she spoke out gently, her throat course.
Even through her adjusting eyes, Tevos could just about make out the matron's features. And in it, she saw the worry—so naked and apparent.
"My lady…!" the hardened commando sprung in for a hug, surprising the newly awakened patient.
The Councilor's eyes fully widened as she felt the wetness pool at her collar bone, her hand hovering behind the matron's back…
…before she gently pressed down to return her embrace.
Tevos was sat upright on her bed as she sipped gracefully from her cup of water—eyes closed in contemplation.
Dutifully, Azalea stood quietly by—waiting.
In the meantime, the commando's thoughts drifted to the man in red.
When she first heard of her lady's savior held captive by C-Sec, she knew she had to return the favor somehow. As Lady Tevos's protector, she was utterly grateful to him, in spite of the tumultuous feelings she had for her matriarch's state at the time—she was utterly grateful.
But upon seeing her lady in such a state, she couldn't bear to feel grateful still. Miracles don't happen twice, after all.
Or so she thought.
"Do you trust me?"
He said.
She shouldn't have. Conventional wisdom would have erred to the side of caution for a matter like this.
But in those eyes—she saw it.
A second miracle. One he bid her keep secret.
For her sake, she agreed. She would have agreed to nearly anything at that point. But in doing so—she bore witness to the extraordinary.
To see her live and breathe then, with eyes open once more—it was a debt she can never repay.
If only she woke to happier circumstances.
My lady is taking it well, after all. If it were me, I wouldn't know what to do.
But then again, this is why she's the Councilor, and I, the bodyguard.
But almost vigorously, the matron shook her head.
No. I can't think like that. The last time I did, she ended up...
"Lady Tevos…?"
"Yes?"
The hardened commando looked down, failing to meet her eyes. She bit her lower lip, feeling like a young maiden again caught in her first bonding.
"That night… when you… fell… from the window…" she took a silent and deep breath, fearful of what her words would be. Fearful—and another part angry.
At who, she couldn't say.
But she had to know. Needed to know.
"Why?"
Softly, Tevos opened her eyes, trailing the rim with an immaculate fingertip.
"I… lost heart," her voice barely above a whisper.
"Lost… heart?"
There was a touch of defeat in Lady Tevos's expression. Almost as if she were bearing witness to memories of a past played out before her.
Her words were a painted hue seldom ever heard.
"To get to where I am now, I had to do things—tossed people aside and… destroyed lives… for the sake of an ambition. My ambition."
She faced the window, the artificial sun peaking over the cityscape. It was a… beautiful.
"Perhaps it all simply caught up to me. It's hard to say 'why?' just that… it happened."
"Madam, I…" Azalea hadn't the words to express herself.
"Do you know what the hardest thing to live with as a leader?"
"No."
"It's the act of living with your failures."
"But, my lady! Forgive me for saying this out in the open, but you, yourself have made plenty of blunders in the past! I've seen it. But you kept moving forward despite it all!"
So cute.
"Because there are only two paths to take, dear Azalea. Failures exist, in part, as a way to test our resolve. No one in this universe could know everything. We can only make decisions and choices with the scant information we're presented with, and if we fail to capitalize on it fully, or worse, fail to act, then there is a price to pay as a result. A result that remains even if we learn from them."
She lowered her head, remembering the conversation she had when first adopted.
"Drive can only push you forward for so long—the only path to take when presented with two. But as you rise up higher and higher in the ranks, so does the price of each failure increase.
"We've lived for so long under the ideal set before us by our people. We made this Council, despite what some of our contemporaries say. And in a rush of my ambitions, I lost sight of what I had once held dear to my heart.
"Commander Shepard… reminded me of that past. And even when I thought I was doing my best as a leader, as a Councilor and representative for billions and billions of people—I didn't. And I failed. With that failure, thousands of people paid the price. That along with our finest Spectre."
"Madam…"
"It's… easy to look at a document and only see a number. It's easy to fall under the illusion of justification when it doesn't involve the people closest to you.
"But to know, to see it with your own eyes, the price of your choice. To see it repeated again and again, thinking you've outgrown it when in reality, there was no difference between then and now. It's…"
The matriarch closed her eyes.
"It's only fair that the Chamber of Matriarchs were made aware of my past dealings. If the price of my failures—of my sins—was my position in the Council, then I came off lightly."
"But it won't just be your position!"
Tevos, startled, looked up and towards her most loyal protector, frustration evident in her face.
"They won't just settle for stripping you of your position! They'll put you on house arrest, probably elevate your sister as the new High Matriarch, and subvert all the good you've done in the galaxy, then probably have you 'disappear' when the attention dies down!"
Oh, sweet, sweet Azalea.
"I know."
"Then why?!"
"Because I deserve it."
The commando slapped the upper part of her sleeve. Drawing attention to the emblem that lay there.
"Do you know why I wear this? Why I chose this symbol to represent the guard?"
Tevos Nariaus did.
She was so shy. So new to all of it at the time. She remembered the day Azalea, at the cusp of matronhood, presented the symbol before her with a mixture of pride and anticipation.
The White Aegis.
"Because you gave me a chance! A chance to prove myself despite my beliefs and the persecution that came attached with it. Despite the controversy of allowing someone from the fallen pantheon to serve you—you didn't care. A lowly maiden that was cast down because of her beliefs. When my own parent looked away in disgust, you took me in."
"I remember."
"Then you remember how I rose to the challenge. Trained until my fingers bled and was finally able to rise up the ranks until I became the Captain of your Guard. Because of you, Lady Tevos!
"Because of you…" her voice growing soft.
"Because of you, I'm here."
You saved me.
The hardened commando. Who she had once stood up to a pack of Krogan veterans alone, was trying hard to hold back the tears.
But fall they did.
You have become strong, Azalea.
"Thank you," she smiled.
The commando looked up from her tears.
"But I cannot turn their summons down; despite what you or I feel on the matter. I must face judgment."
"But, Lady Tevos–!"
"Captain Rais."
The commando froze at the sound of her proper name and title.
"At this fork, I am limited in options. Knowing the High Matriarchs and what I would do in their place, the planning would have taken some time ago. The press would have been given a copy of my crimes through an anonymous channel, with information selectively picked to create a narrative that somehow explains my mental health. A way to indicate that I am unfit for duty as a member of the Council.
"And as you said, I'll be stripped of my status as a Councilor, extradited to the Republics, and be held in an enclosed area, such as the family estate, until they summon me in for judgment.
"With their shells covered, I cannot hope to challenge their authority, not if they have evidence of my past actions to counter whatever I would say. To defy them then, would only make myself more complicit in my crimes."
"How do you know all of this?"
"Because that is what I would do."
Azalea blinked, scrambling in her mind to think of a solution.
"What about the other Council members? Certainly, Councilor Valern and Sparatus can vouch for you?" the matron desperately pleaded.
Tevos shook her head. "To them, this is an asari matter. And with the High Matriarchs voting unanimously to bring me in would indicate a unified front. Them at their most dangerous. A united Chamber would use every means available to pressure the Council if they would object. It's simply too venomous an issue for them to coil with, no matter what they would think."
"But then… what should we…" the commando mumbled, hanging her head.
"I will go to them. I will speak to my sister and hear the charges myself."
"No… if you go, then you'll be at their…"
…mercy.
"Please, Azalea," she looked up, determined. "Let me do this. I want to do this."
Their eyes met and she peered into them.
A plea—something she had never seen or heard her do before.
Azalea couldn't bear to hold her gaze and turned away, leaving the room.
The Councilor—or rather, the former Councilor—lowered her head.
There was a time when she would have fought back. Hells, she would have used incriminating information she had, threatening the Chamber and risk-taking down the asari people with her in doing so.
But that was her then.
"We all have a choice," she whispered to herself.
.
.
.
.
.
Footsteps, deliberate and clear, came near her.
"It's probably better this way," he said.
She didn't deign to look up, even knowing who it was.
.
.
.
.
.
"Do you think it was a waste?" she whispered.
"Hm? A waste of what?" the man in red asked.
"Saving me."
Though she kept her head down, she felt his eyes analyze her—a distinct pressure that was uniquely his.
"No."
A second passed as she stared at the faint reflection in the cup, a stranger all but looking back.
.
.
.
"I see."
.
.
.
"We all have our regrets," he ambled to her side, gently placing an old pendant on her lap. "It's how we move forward with them that matters."
The man known as Archer walked away, the weight of his boots creaking with every step.
There was a ripple that broke the water's surface—her gaze sunk deeply into the red of that familiar, familiar jewel.
Archer found the commando alone in the lobby, peering far out through the translucent panels overlooking the cityscape.
He casually walked up and stood by her, taking the time to admire the alien, yet familiar view.
They stood there for minutes at a time, alone, with not a word spoken to each other.
Come to think of it, what was the cuisine like in the future? He didn't see much on the aircar ride here to the hospital, but from what he's seen at C-Sec Headquarters, there were humans.
And with humans, meant edible food. Hopefully, the art of cooking has advanced as much as cars have.
"Aren't you going to say something?"
"Hmm?"
She let out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms, tapping her foot relentlessly.
He went back to admiring the skyline. Hopefully, he could try out the local cuisine soon.
Maybe I should try out some asari food first. They do look like humans, so maybe it could work out?
I hope it isn't all blue. Wait, is that racist?
"I don't get you."
Archer raised a white eyebrow, side-eying the asari next to him.
"I don't get you," she repeated. "Why linger? Why even be here?"
"You did drive me here, remember?" the man in red answered back.
"I…" she ran a frustrated hand over her crest.
"Not what I mean." She shook her head and uncrossed her arms.
The commando turned and stomped her way to the middle of the lobby.
"That emblem on your arm. What does it mean?"
Confused at the random question, she turned around to look back at the man, but his gaze was still to the city proper.
"What does it matter?" she nearly spat out, looking away from him.
"Every emblem is meant to represent something. To my people, at least, shields are weapons. Though one that defends, rather than attack."
Azalea breathed out an exasperated sigh, but relented. "It's the same thing. To us, I mean. To the asari. This particular shield though…" a hand hovered over her upper arm, as if afraid to touch it.
"It's called the White Aegis, the shield of Verah. Verah was a Goddess of the… old… pantheon of my people.
"A Goddess of war."
"The Goddess of war. Represented by a shield, huh." He seemed amused by the concept.
"Yes. That was her only tool. There were legends and stories my… mother had told me as a little girl. Stories of how she would stride into battle with nothing but her shield and biotics.
"To us, war meant more than just striking out at our enemies. I don't know much about the human perspective for waging it, but to the asari, war is but an extended means of, 'talk', or diplomacy nowadays."
A weak smile spread across her face, remembering how she imagined the stories of her childhood.
"We believe war is a cause worth dying for. It is both a terrifying and frightening thing, but one that deserves our full commitment and respect when decided upon. We're not particularly fond of the glory for it, not like the turians or krogans, but to us, to go to battle meant there was a truly just cause for us to take up arms. To fight for what we all deemed was right. Not for the sake of national interest, or conquest, or even defense—but for what's right."
"War for the sake of justice, eh?" he murmured.
"Yes. It was an ideal that inspired me. It's why I chose this symbol, because with her, with Lady Tevos…"
"She is your justice."
An image of a king. Golden, and magnificent in her splendor, flashed in his mind.
"I…" she turned away, somehow feeling embarrassed.
The red knight smirked. She would have liked you.
"Argh!" he ruffled his hair in frustration. "This is all so complicated."
Goddammit, Alaya. What the hell did you throw me into this time?
"Uh, is everything alright?"
Archer breathed out a defeated sigh, ignoring her words, and turned to her.
Suddenly, she felt some sort of static discharge run across her skin as a flash of red energy burst from the man, engulfing the entirety of the hospital lobby.
Everything felt weird—unnaturally so—as if she were put into a vacuum.
"Azalea Rais," he turned to her, but he was different this time.
No. Rather, it was like last time.
His eyes, once more, glowed like that of burnished steel, even in this mundane setting, she couldn't turn away.
"Before I answer your question," his voice did not change in pitch or tone, and yet, there was a power behind it. "Let me ask you once more—"
"Do you trust me?"
There were a million questions in the back of her mind. A human who lived and breathed mystery like nothing else.
To her, he was an anomaly. A man who had saved the most important person of her life. A man who brought forth the light of a miracle to save her once again.
Two miracles in one day.
But those details would be revealed in time, she felt.
For now…
She swallowed her doubts and stood her ground—to accept the challenge of those ancient eyes of his and give him the answer she did last time.
"I do."
Their gazes held—one piercing, and the other—immovable.
A clash of sword and shield.
"Good."
And just like that—it ended.
The pressure she felt vanished so suddenly, she nearly stumbled.
"Huh?!"
Archer smirked, a hand on his hip as he waited for her to catch her breath.
"What in the Goddess was that?!"
"Hm? What do you mean? I just asked if you trusted me or not."
"That's not…! You know…! Ugh!"
She folded her arms and turned away, pouting.
"But to answer your question, I'm here because of her," pointing his chin down the hallway.
"Lady Tevos? How so?"
"For now, let's just say that she's called me here."
"Called you here…? That barely explains anything."
He shrugged. "It's the truth. Even I don't have the whole context of it all. But let's just say that I'm here for her behalf."
"So then… you have a contract with her?"
Archer turned to face her, surprised.
"I've read your background," she stated. "It says you're a freelancer."
The man hardened his expression for a moment before shrugging again.
"Sure." He brought a hand up, already knowing how unsatisfied she was with his explanation.
"I'll explain more in the future. For now, just think of me as a kind of…" he tucked a finger under his chin.
"...servant, of sorts."
"A servant." She deadpanned.
He simply smirked.
"Well, I'll hold you to that, for saving Lady Tevos and all. But…" memories of that conversation appeared in her mind, "... I'm not sure you'll find much work with how things are looking."
"I'm not so sure about that."
Huh?
"What do you mean?"
He was summoned here for a reason. If he was merely brought here just to escort her to some sort of botched trial because of politics and see her live the rest of her life in some villa, then he wouldn't have been needed.
No. There's far more going on than anyone here knows.
Like my supposed 'background.'
"Well, let's just see where all this goes first."
The salarian's head was blown clean off. Normally, he would've savored the feeling of that win. Of another monster taken off the streets—but there are other, more pressing matters to attend.
Like ducking.
A round nearly clipped his crest from where his head was just at. Garrus knew then this spot was no good.
He crouch-rushed down the other end of this long balcony barrier as more rounds whizzed above him, pinging the wall far back.
How could it all have gone wrong?
The turian nearly dived at the other end of the barrier then pressed his back against it.
How could Sidonis betray us all like that?
Switching firing stances. He peered from the left side, sighted his target, and fired. Fired. Fired. And fired again.
More and more dropped to his unerring accuracy before the mercenaries had even realized he was picking them off once more.
He should've listened to his father. Should've stuck with his Spectre training and used his position to push the preparations needed for the oncoming Reaper invasion.
He made a vorcha's head explode in a mist of red.
If he had, then perhaps, his team would've been alive.
"...ar…"
Someone from the comms.
"..aru…"
He hid back behind the barrier, pressing on the haptic device that came to life around his head.
"This is Garrus Vakarian, do you read me. Over."
Static.
"This is Garrus Vakarian," he repeated more deliberately, "do you–"
"...and by…f…dro…str…"
Stand by… for drone strike?
.
.
.
Oh, shit.
.
.
.
He was barely able to brace himself before a series of explosions rocked his world.
Note to self. Invest in new kinetic barriers.
Time seemed to slow down as he was half-convinced that the explosions were somehow getting closer.
Wait, they are getting closer.
But before he was about to take off—the explosions stopped.
The silence that came after was deafening, but he peaked out nonetheless.
There was a massive cloud that blanketed where the bridge once was, but from what he could see, debris was scattered everywhere.
"Ser Garrus Vakarian."
With lightning reflexes, he pulled a holstered pistol and turned behind him, already having sighted the figure that spoke his name.
How did she…?
"Impressive. I dare say the reports undersold your abilities."
She was unarmed and wore an all-black bodysuit. Skintight, with hips most turian women would die for.
A biotic maybe…?
"Well, what can I say. I have a knack for impressing the ladies."
The human woman seemed unimpressed with his quip but stood without fear despite the gun pointed at her head.
"My name is Miranda Lawson, and I have a proposal for you."
"Miranda, eh. It doesn't take a genius to know that the pretty fireworks were from you, so thanks for that. But knowing your types, whatever you want to sell me, I'm not interested."
"Oh? You won't hear me out? Not after saving you and your team's lives?"
Garrus's handle of his pistol nearly faltered.
"What…?"
"Go ahead. The jamming signal should be down so you should be able to connect with them."
He kept quiet and glared, his aim still holding true. Slowly, he brought his arm up and pressed the haptic comms device.
"This is Garrus Vakarian. Does anyone read me?"
"Garrus?!" he felt a wave of relief at the sound of her voice. "Oh, thank the Goddess you're alive! We were worried when we heard that the big three were gathering to flush you out!"
"Let's just say that I'm too good for that," he chuckled. "But enough about me. How is everyone?"
"Everyone's fine. Well, everyone who was at the base. No one's heard anything from Sidonis."
"What happened?"
"Well, Weaver received a message earlier from an unknown sender about an imminent attack. We didn't want to take any chances, so we fled, retreating through our assigned routes, knowing that the area had been compromised. I think they had a contingency and brought people in to hunt us all down."
Dammit, Sidonis.
"But we were rescued, and you won't believe this, by Cerberus, of all people! And they even had the courtesy to escorted us to our designated rallying points."
"Really hard to believe," he deadpanned, glaring at the woman. "And I'm guessing no one's made the effort to leave the station just yet, have they?"
"No. When they heard of what happened to you, they wanted to rush in there for a rescue, but one of their leaders told us to hang back and that they already have a unit moving onto your location."
"Okay, thanks for the sitrep. I'll call back in a bit before we make our next move. But first, Garrus, out."
He knew a hostage situation when he heard one, and this was a planned good one. But then again, she did pull them out from a sticky situation, so, just this once...
The former C-Sec officer slowly lowered his gun.
"You've made your point. Now, what do you want?"
Miranda Lawson smiled.
It had always amazed her just how realistically warm the artificial light of the Citadel had felt.
It would have been nice to see it as well.
Though, even if she were offered cybernetic eyes now, she would keep to her old answer and refused them.
Ah, the choices we must live with.
As she mused, healers and chirurgeons shuffled away from her and bowed—a reverence she could also feel through her other senses as she made her way down the hallway.
She had long stopped telling others to raise their heads and learned that reverence was not so much a test of one's humbleness, but an allowance to showcase their respect.
A warmth in its own way.
Still, Rika T'lain has much to learn as a new Valyer.
Hm? Interesting.
Yes. A rather interesting person had decided to reveal himself.
She nodded at the guards standing by the lobby entrance and walked through the doors.
All so heavily armed. One would expect a siege anytime soon with the amount of firepower they possess.
"Messer Rika," Azalea came to greet her. She was followed by another guard, but what drew her attention was not Tevos' detail, but the human man standing to the side, his arms crossed and leaning by the corner of the room.
But he could wait. As she was informed earlier, Tevos Nariaus had just woken not too long ago.
"Lady Tevos. Serah Rais," she bowed her head in turn, "I take it you are ready?"
Azalea blinked in confusion.
"I am."
The captain turned around, not expecting her lady to be there.
Quietly, she entered the scene. Her steps were light and steady as she tried her best to hide her weakened stature.
"Lady Tevos…!" she nearly dashed to her side but was stopped.
"Captain Rais. It is fine. I am well enough to move on my own."
"But…" she mumbled, but relented, stepping back.
"I am ready, Messer Rika."
Valyer bowed, formally. "I am glad to see you well enough."
The matriarch gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.
"Arrangements have been made," informed the Vayer. "If it pleases you, I shall guide you there. But first, let me ask," turning to a particular corner of the room.
"Will he be attending you?"
Interestingly, the matriarch looked to him as well.
"I am," he spoke with a voice that brokered no argument, unfolding his arms.
"If I may," Rika inquired, tilting her head to the Councilor, "what is his relationship to you?"
But interestingly enough, Tevos herself was giving the man a hard stare, evaluating him and his words.
After a few seconds of silence, the asari commando stepped up. "He is a—"
"He is a friend," Tevos interrupted, stern—but trailed off softly. "One I had not seen in a long time."
The Valyer's eyes widened behind her veil, "I… see."
Interesting.
"Please," she bowed, "allow me a moment to inform my associates."
"What for?"
"A precaution and a courtesy. Thanks to Lady Selica Naraius, we have a record of every person listed under your service presently at the station."
The Valyer could almost see the surprised expression of the captain and the other guard as she walked back through the lobby doors for privacy.
Her omni-tool was activated. A burst signal through a private channel bounced across 112 comm buoys spread throughout the galaxy before reaching its intended target.
Rika T'lain took a deep breath before the call connected.
"Hellooo~?" a cheerful voice greeted on the other end of the line.
"Greetings, my lady, it's–"
"Oh, poo! I told you, Rika! We're friends! None of this 'my lady' stuff, okay?"
"I…" she felt the corners of her lips curl.
Ever the child.
"Of course. How silly of me."
"Yes, how silly of you! Now then, as much as I want to tell you about this cute flower crown Alani made for me, there's something you wanted to tell me first, huh?"
"As you might have guessed, yes. It concerns an… unexpected guest."
"Ooooh? Do pray tell!" she crooned.
"A human man. At least, from what I can tell. One, an esteemed Lady Tevos calls, 'a friend.'"
Shuffling could be heard from the other end, then some kind of glass shattering.
"Whaaaaa? A friend!? Silly, Rika! Tevos doesn't have any 'friends!'"
She brought a hand up to cover an amused smile.
"Are you sure she isn't just saying that? She can be quite the actor~"
The Valyer thought back to that scene, how she interrupted her captain and how the Councilor's words trailed off.
"Well…"
A man in the dark took a savored sip of his scotch, pleased with the latest successful operation.
A beep—a new report. One made a priority.
The one called the Illusive Man skimmed it within seconds, laying the pieces of information out in his mind.
A supposed suicide attempt by the asari councilor of all people.
Interesting.
Their latest psych evals of her show no indication of depression, or any sort of mental illness that their experts could identify.
From the scattered tidbits of her latest council session—one made classified, strange enough—he would have expected the batarians to be involved.
Though, it is a possibility that can't be ruled out.
Sending out orders to acquire said document, he continued his ponderings.
There's been movement coming from Thessia's Great Houses themselves and with the recent arrival of one of their Valyer's to the Citadel, the seas are in flux—as the asari would say.
Tevos has all been stripped of her power if this report can be corroborated. And her biggest supporters are either being questioned, called back or have simply vanished.
A failed assassination attempt? Or maybe a bigger play behind the scenes. It's certainly more activity than Great Houses normally partake in.
He took a drag out of his cigar.
But another thing of note was this mysterious human.
A man dressed in red, whom even the human officers found strange.
No omni-tool. Bare-bones background. Retrieved by the Shield of Tevos herself. He's appeared out of nowhere, saved the Councilor by… catching her? Though there are some doubts brewing amongst the investigators whether he caught her from the ground floor or…
Forensics say that the imprints left on the sidewalk could only be made by falling from incredible heights. Not even the assigned Spectre on the case could figure out how that worked.
Strangely enough, the cameras overlooking that area were disabled at that precise time as well.
No human could survive that fall. Not without some sort of equipment, biotics, or…?
No.
It can't be.
He tapped a screen and made a call.
†
Last edited:
To Dr. Suvi Anwar
Last edited: