After her near brush with death, Dormé had never been so relieved to hear of Vader’s return less than an hour later. She had seen to it that his quarters were spotless and that the data she acquired was in full view upon entering. She then visited the medical centre to have her wounds attended to. It was nothing a bit of Bacta would not take care of. There would be no permanent scarring.
Her dearest friend, Moteé, who was stationed on another vessel with her current flame, Lieutenant Veers, was quick to hear of the news and contacted her straightaway to see that she was OK. She assured Moteé that she was all right, but Moteé went off about Saché, completely shocked and personally offended by Saché’s insurrection. Dormé’s lips twisted into a malevolent smile at the thought.
It seemed like such a long time ago, though it was only a few years ago, when they were inducted into the Empire’s service. Even then, Saché had been impertinent.
‘Milord, I do not see why we are forced to leave our own quarters while you conduct your business. Perhaps you should be the one who steps outside,’ said Saché, obviously annoyed.
Even then, Dormé could sense the tension between her former trainer and the Dark Lord.
‘Your presence is not required at this time Lady Saché. Now leave while you still can.’
The audacity that she would suggest he leave! Though bristling, Dormé remained silent, trying her best to withhold things she would like to say to Saché. As always, it was best not to say anything, especially to superiors without being spoken to first. She had learnt this lesson in handmaiden training and learnt it well.
Once they were alone, Dormé struggled even harder not to move to embrace him, to comfort him in their mutual sorrow for the passing of Padmé. She knew nothing surrounding the circumstances of her death, nor was she aware just how Anakin suffered: that his master betrayed him. She could not, however, resist taking a step closer to him.
He addressed her. ‘I thank you for your patience. Your sister could use to learn that trait from you, as well as a little humility.’
At his compliment, which she knew he so rarely gave aside from the praises he lavished on Padmé, she bowed her head in humble acceptance before returning her eyes to strain to see his behind the mask.
He was silent for a moment before he asked, ‘Do you know why I wish to speak with you?’
'I pray the reason is so that I may, even in some small way, continue to serve--' She broke off unable to say Padmé's name for it ached to form the syllables, 'to serve her family,' she replied quietly.
Dormé wondered with all of his new powers if he could read her thoughts. She so desperately wanted to ask what happened to him, how he came to be this wounded, and who was responsible for it for she would stop at nothing to see to it he gave them the retribution they deserved. Perhaps he already had and this flickered within her a sense of pride.
When Anakin—Vader—placed a hand on her shoulder she bit her newfound trembling lip, for fear she would allow tears to escape.
‘I understand where your true loyalties lie,’ he said, ‘for that is why I am here. I would like it very much if you could continue to serve— The Empire needs someone with your skills and fierce loyalty. If you wish to continue your services, I would appreciate it if you did so in this fashion.’
Dormé nearly gave in to the tears when he strained to speak of Padmé, but could not, but instead placed a hand over his, finding strength from this gesture. 'Thank you, my lord,' she replied in a soft voice, so grateful to be given this chance. In time, she hoped this service would aid in her healing, as well as his.
When the familiar laden footsteps of Lord Vader clamoured towards his quarters, Dormé’s thoughts returned to the present. She moved to the refrigeration unit to retrieve a bottle of his favourite beverage, figuring he would no doubt be parched after his journey.
Vader entered, breathing hard and straining to get out of the mask as quickly as possible.
Dormé did not say a word as she took a glass from the cupboard and poured the green liquid into it.
‘I would she were still alive so I could kill her with my bare hands,’ Vader hissed, ripping off the last of the helmet’s attachments.
Dormé placed the glass on the table a bit disappointed he had not noticed the datapad, but knowing he was justified in his rage. She did not blame him for his anger at the traitor, Saché Maberrie, however, she did not expect that it had anything to do with the fact Saché had nearly killed her.
Once he finished pacing and cursing the dead woman in Huttese, she felt his eyes on her while she was preparing something for him to eat as well. She watched from the corner of her eye as he drank the entire contents of the glass in one gulp. Her heart went out to him when she saw his eyes soften. He seemed to calm down, but appearances can be deceiving.
She jumped slightly when he slammed the glass down so hard that it shattered. Dormé swiftly left off fixing the meal to clean up the broken glass.
‘No—leave it,’ he said.
She tossed him an incredulous look as if to say, ‘if I don’t clean it up, who will?’ but he grabbed her wrist with one hand, his other went to her waist. Dormé winced for her side wound had not fully healed, but she left cleaning and looked up into his eyes.
He promptly released her when she winced, his hand slipping from her waist, up her back, and she studied his eyes to find out why, but to no avail.
‘Let me see it,’ he said firmly.
She furrowed her brow, momentarily unsure what he was talking about. Her first thought was that it was to do with the data she retrieved, but then she remembered he had not even noticed it. He meant her wound. She opened her mouth slightly to reply that it was fine, but the look in his eyes seemed to urge her on. With care, she removed her officer’s jacket and pulled the shirt underneath up slightly to reveal the healing knife wound.
He placed a hand over the wound and closed his eyes. She watched him curiously until he stroked his thumb over the now slightly pink, healed skin. Her mouth dropped open, though she knew she should not underestimate the extent of his abilities.
‘Thank—’ she was about to say, but her expression of appreciation was stunted by his lips covering hers.
This kiss was unlike the first they had shared before his departure: innocent and sorrowful. It was as though he were taking all of her, consuming her, leaving her gasping for air. Breathless and light-headed from panting for oxygen, Dormé made the conscious decision that it was only fair she take back what he had taken from her.
Demure no longer, Dormé pressed herself against him, taking him in fully, without restraint, as she returned his passionate kiss with one of her own. She had never felt so alive. Though in the back of her head she associated it with the escape from an attempted murder, she was still oblivious to the fact that he was responding to that as well, that his actions were because of her. In truth, Dormé did not care why and wanted to take full advantage of this opportunity.
Oh, Ani… Ani… she thought.
It was not until he responded in kind, matching her intensity and initiating the further removal of inhibiting clothing that it started to fall into place. She could barely believe it was possible: that he might have feelings for her. But soon, it was hard to think coherently, let alone register that they were now in his bedroom, for the fire within had already sparked to a growing flame. There was no escape from the all-consuming flames.
A/N: Damn evil plotbunnies from hell!
More coming sooner than any of us would like... *shudders*
on to chapter three
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