Lamb to the Slaughter

[Ellie Mors]

Here We Go

She had read the stories, heard the tales - a galaxy that was filled to the brim with heroes, villains, and the various people of importance that filled the void between. For her entire life, her privileged life, Irina knew nothing but what the mundane would describe as peace, as happiness. It was an uneventful life, one without occasion, without a looming conflict. She lived outside of the wars between the Jedi and the Sith, the military industrial complex and their foes, but she grew up learning about them - grew up being warned about them. Stories told to children to instill a deep chill of fear in their hearts so they didn't question their parents, so they would never take what they had for granted. And for the most part, it worked. Living beyond the rim of civilization on the world of Yaga Minor, a planet which housed large shipyards and little else, Irina was raised by what could only be described as a coven - a group of force sensitives that carried a tradition with them that rejected the concrete view of the galaxy and the force that flowed within it, one which rejected most of modern society's advances and practices. Few resented their parents and the small community at large, but Irina was not among the many that lived in the flock as blindly and as blandly as the rest.

She heard the tales of the Sith, the stories of valiant Jedi and misunderstood villains that were led astray, and Irina did not cower beneath her covers as a whelp, she did not shiver with fear at the mention of their names - she sat up in anticipation of the warriors and masters of the force in the nightly stories, she shivered in excitement at their exploits retold at her bedside. And when she grew up, as she grew up, she learned that not only were they interesting as pieces of exaggerated history, novelty pieces of fiction to her siblings and friends, but they were tales that provided motivation for her. She didn't want the life she was born into, a life so many would doubtlessly pursue for their entire lives and never find - she despised the emptiness of her boring routine and wanted more. Irina wanted that conflict, she wanted to feel the chill of real fear - not a bedtime story meant to teach some pointless lesson.

So she left her home, left her people, and sought out life beyond the fringes of the wilds, beyond the gray and metallic surface of the industrial portion of Yaga Minor, and into the greater galaxy at large.
A journey that now found her in chains, closing one chapter in her life in order to start a new one - to experience what life had to offer beyond safety and control.

Irina may have sought out such a change, but she had not entered this bondage willingly. As many hotheaded youths, she had a certain impulsiveness about her that allowed others to set off her fiery temper like dynamite. A grope, an insult, and a shove were all it took to set the witch off - to pull her into a fight that she could not win. Perhaps it was her captors plan, to take in those who were otherwise gifted and exploit a flaw to deliver them to someone who would make use of their abilities and hone their skills like a dagger, to make use of them like tools.

That was what she suspected, at any rate, as she found herself on her knees, wrists and ankles bound, before [member="Darth Carnifex"].

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Canthar, Capital City of the Pacanth Reach
Panatha

A thick fog began to roll in from the harbor, the dull keening of the old bell-tower ringing out across the aged cobblestone of Old Canthar. The early morning trade shipments had arrived, and great tons of cargo was being unloaded from not only the space-faring freighters in the spaceports but also from the ocean-faring caravels that were moving into the wide expansive harbor. The farther one moved away from the harbor the more sleepy the city became, the port being the epicenter of the old city's activity that rippled out through the wealthier districts bordering the center of the magnificent city.

At the city's center was a circle of fourteen massive pyramids wrought from durasteel and permacrete, their edifices purposefully designed to reflect the heavens to better enhance the beauty of the city's skyline. The greatest of these pyramids was the Hasi’ Sulemi, the greatest structure ever wrought by the ancient Epicanthix during the golden age of Canthar the Great. Once a temple of worship, it has since been retrofitted to act first as the city's administrative center, and then the nucleus for the entire Pacanth Reach after the Great Unification.

It was in the shadow of this great monument that the most secretive auctions were conducted: the buying and selling of slaves.

Since the First Order's arrival in the Pacanth Reach they had been adamant in the outright removal of slavery in Epicanthix society, a practice that had been integral to their culture since before recorded history. Through the guile tongue of their King they had managed to hold onto the practice, although the threat of swift reprisal continued to loom over the heads of all Epicanthix nobility. It was their one great resentment of the Imperial government that had accepted them into their Imperium, but thanks to the iron hand that guided them they had not been moved to brash action.

Today's crop was a good one, there were a great many slaves that had been arrayed upon the raised stage before the Hasi’ Sulemi. Many of them were non-Human, but the Epicanthix made no distinction between Alien to Human slaves, the only edict that they followed was that no Epicanthix would be forced into bondage except in the instances that there was a debt to be paid to the master, and even then it was a rare occurrence.

One of the slaves, however; had caught the eyes of the Arch-King's inspectors. She was a fiery thing, and she reeked of witchcraft. She alone was removed from the other slaves, her bound form shackled to covered litter propelled by repulsorlifts. She was taken inside of the Hasi’ Sulemi, guided through its massive and extravagant halls until they reached a large audience chamber of columns and silk tapestries. She was removed from the litter and brought to kneel before her handler's Lord and Master.

"Leave us."

They bowed and quickly moved to depart the room, leaving [member="Irina Volkov"] alone in the presence of a seething mass of darkness condensed in the shape of a powerfully built avatar of war. The Arch-King of the Pacanth Reach regarded the girl with curiosity, his burning eyes piercing deep through her being. "So, you're the girl my men speak of. The girl who stinks of a witch, interesting."

"What is your name?"

 

[Ellie Mors]

Of course she hadn't been the only one - there never could be a trade for slavery if the crop were so slim. She was insignificant in that regard, only one of hundreds upon thousands that were brought in that week to be sold and traded or gifted. And yet, one of so many, she was singled out by the one man on the planet, the one man who presided over it all, that not a soul wanted to attract the attention of - for attention of those with such dark pleasures often brought despair in equal measure. Yes, [member="Darth Carnifex"] took special interest in her - though she did not know why she had been dragged before him until he spoke. She was quiet, though resilient and stubborn even in the face of punishment for her defiance, and yet a man that likely only sought on beings and objects of both interest and worth took the time out of his day to have her brought to him.

Small, petite, perhaps even frail - in all manner of words, the Panathan God-King towered over her form without effort, like a lion to a lamb. Indeed that was how she felt when confronted with the man that ended the lives of so many, and yet his hungry gaze did not seem like that of murderous fancy - at least not a bloodlust that was to be sated with her death. Though her temper could burn so brightly that it consumed her with defiant rage, and though the man could end her life with a wring of her neck, Irina forced herself to remain visibly calm in front of so powerful an adversary - well aware that to show fear to a predator was akin to admitting defeat. She glanced down to the ground when his gaze bore through her, eyelids shutting briefly in frustration that was met with a small tic in her jaw. So she reeked of witchcraft, of arcane practices and primitive works, she doubted that one with such a powerful presence in the omnipresent force would need her simply for that reason.

"What is your name?" He asked.

Slowly she turned her gaze, eyes opened as he head tilted back, to the Sith Lord that questioned her, twin stubborn orbs meeting the gaze that his intimidating eyes cast. "My name is Irina Volkov." The witch answered in turn, her accent harsh, heavy, and biting with an entirely different cadence than the classical Imperial form. "I am as your men say, a witch." She added, her voice soft but far less delicate than her face. Her head tilted a tad to the right, an eyebrow slightly arched, as though to question the meaning behind her importance to the man - if indeed such a thing existed. "What does a man that holds the keys to his own destiny want with one such as myself?" Irina asked, daring to ask what her body language had already betrayed. She was experienced in her craft, talented with her repertoire, but she was no battle-hardened master of combat that could even hope to stand up for herself against someone as skilled as the Zambrano that held her fate in his hands and thus the respect, however forced, was apparent in her tone and words.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He stepped near, the air shimmering and seething with latent power as the Dark Side freely flowed through the Arch-King's body uninhibited. He was the true epitome of a Warrior King, his muscular body clad in plates of ornate armor of black and gold, a thick cloak drawn over his shoulders that pooled on the floor at his feet. A crown of ruby gems and black omegium sat atop his brow, his oily black hair bound back in a warrior's ponytail to accentuate the scarring and damage wrought all across the right side of his face that exposed the skull and teeth in a gruesome rictus grin. Where many would attempt to hide up such grotesqueness with modern surgical means or advanced cybernetics, the dark master of Panatha did not shy away from whatever damage he might accumulate in battle, and seemed in revel in the affects it had on those who gazed upon his ruined visage.

"I am never one to turn away from opportunity, little Irina, and in you I see bountiful possibilities. My men may not be able to accurately see it, but I can sense that you are a powerful witch, well-versed in the eldritch ways of the Force. Only a fool would spurn you, and only the ignorant would seek your destruction." He breathed in deep, "Thankfully, I am neither. What I offer you is not enslavement despite the methods in which you were brought to me, but I do offer servitude of a privileged manner."

His hands fell on either side of his hips, his posture triumphant and monarchical. "Swear yourself to me, [member="Irina Volkov"], and I will gift you power beyond what you would have ever known in your previous meager existence."

 

[Ellie Mors]

She could feel the pressure in the air building as the Sith drew closer, a heavy weight that was likely his presence in the force bearing down on her. She could admire that - so proud, so confident, and with the raw power to add to the intimidation - but she was still in chains, and still resented having her freedom stripped away for a man to decide her fate. Her gaze met his and she examined his features, his clothing, and found it not at all ironic that he made sure he was adorned with jewels and expensive armor - truly fitting for one that would see a price tag for the lives of others. And yet still he surprised her, his response contradicting much of what she had expected - though she suspected his offer was still to make use of her as a more willing tool than he could have made her as a slave. It was flattering to be complimented, although she wondered if the man was only attempting to win her over with flowery words, yet she knew that she had little choice in the matter - it was either to pledge herself to him as a servant or live a life of bondage. She wasn't certain what difference there would be in the two, but she did know that she would at least have an illusion of choice if she accepted his offer.

Perhaps the additional offer of power was a tad bit more enticing than his description of how privileged she would be to serve him.

"I see little choice in the matter, but if I must barter my way to freedom - however meager - I will take it." She said in turn, blue eyes staring into his. "I will do as you ask - pledge myself into your service - and you will find me far more willing a subject when I am freed from bondage." Irina added, looking back down at the chains that bound her with mild disgust. "What is it you will have me do?"

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Of that, we can both agree."

He waved his right hand and the shackles that bound Irina decoupled and clattered to the floor, the sound of metal bumping against metal resounding throughout the well-tuned acoustics of the chamber. In another moment the shackles levitated up from where they had fallen, and listed near the Dark Lord of the Sith. Before Irina's very eyes the metal comprising the binds started to lose form, solidity giving away to the consistency of liquid as the molecules holding together the device were manipulated and rearranged. In the span of a couple seconds the shackles were completely gone, and in their place was a cube of featureless metal.

Then that too began to shift and change form, the cube condensing into a long cylinder before further morphing into something with grooves and fine edges. The metal turned red hot, heat shimmering and sizzling off of the hardening metal as the newly formed shape of a dagger held firm. The Dark Lord took hold of the dagger in his right hand, quickly inspecting the newly forged weapon before offering it to the unbound witch that stood before him.

"Cut the palm of your right hand with this blade formed from the shackles of your enslavement, and you will be bound to me. That is what I ask of you."

[member="Irina Volkov"]​

 

[Ellie Mors]

Even as the Sith spoke his agreement, even as the muscles in his throat contracted to vibrate the sounds that would be articulated as words from his lips, Irina could feel the shifting in the air - the intent behind the man's offer. She could taste the iron on her lips, a foreboding of blood that was to be spilled - a future that was to come. It wasn't a magnificent vision, it was no waking dream, she simply knew what he wanted from her even as he prepared to ask it of her. He wanted to seal her fate with her blood, with the iron of her body, to make a bond that she could not shake - like a set of invisible chains strapping her to him for all of eternity, an unwritten, signed, contract that signed her soul to his. She knew this was little more than slavery, but it was still exactly that - something more than what she had at the moment. The question, however, was still if she could bargain for more - but she could tell by both the reputation that preceded him and the aura of intimidation even his shadow cast that he would be immovable in this regard. She signed in resignation as he twisted and changed the very symbol of her bondage into a tool that would place her in even stronger bonds, though perhaps more flexible than the iron ones that had shackled her before.

"I understand." She said, lolling her head to the side with an expression that displayed some discomfort as he held out the blade and made his request.

She had the suspicion that he had given her a fool's dream by offering her freedom, he had simply traded one form of slavery for the next. It was a better life, perhaps, and perhaps it held hidden opportunities as well, but she was not held by any illusion that the dagger that would cut her hand was to sever any chains that bound her. But it was a double edged sword for him, the Sith, for she knew rituals which he would never comprehend - things which he would not understand and likely would never believe. There was power in gesture, and power still in the blood shed by them - she took the dagger with a shaky hand, her left, and placed her smooth palm, one without callus or blemish, of her right onto the edge of the blade. It was chipped, imperfect, and it was as crude as the man that had extended her this symbolic freedom. But she was not going to simply shed blood to signify her loyalty to this man - no, she was going to cut the true chains that bound her, using his gesture of 'freedom' to do so.

Only a moment passed, a moment to allow the image of invisible chains holding her body in place to manifest in her mind, the very chains of fate that bound each and every soul to their purpose and their path, and then in the next moment she allowed that blade to bite into her palm and drag through her tender flesh like a dagger across the throat of an innocent. The blood did, indeed, pour from her skin - it bled profusely, running over her pale skin like tears down her cheeks - and at that moment she severed not only the veins that were ruptured by the edge of the knife, but also the threads of destiny. She was no longer bound by fate, and however symbolic the Sith might have perceived this, if he had understood the pause and the meaning behind it, it was very much real to her - a belief grounded in faith, made reality by the offering of blood and the force that flowed through it. A ritual - none would know if fate was truly severed, just as none could tell if fate truly existed, but she knew within her heart, deep within the confines of her already corrupting soul, that she was free from the obligation of her kind, from the obligations of any but her own will and that of her new master.

She was free, leashed only to the whims of [member="Darth Carnifex"]. And as perverse a joy it might have been, Irina finally found a moment of happiness in this exchange - finding, at last, what she had been searching for ever since she left her home.

Misfortune.

"I am yours." Irina said, the tears drying even as they stained her cheek, the blood slowing as the wound she made began to clot. She could have found it in herself to close the wound, to ease her own suffering, but she felt the excitement of letting it persist - to feel that throbbing in her hand that matched the beating in her chest and the thrum of pressure in her ears. She'd never known hardship before, and now she had found it at the feet of the man that would become the engineer of her future after freeing her from the shackles of her past.

"My blood has flowed for you, and now it flows still - within me - for you, until our bond is severed. It shall be through death or will - and the two belong to you. As long as your heart beats, as long as there is air in your lungs, my life is yours, and I am forfeit of death. I am absolved of my destiny, of my responsibilities to life, and I am ordained instead to the purpose which you have wrought for me. Your will is my will, and my life yours."

"Through this gesture I am born anew, a slave freed and yet tethered, still, to her master - to you. Until you take your final breath, I shall take each of my own only to serve you - bound through a spell forged through the blood of the willing and the blade of the savior."

She spoke the words that sealed their conjoined fates, hers now intertwined with his for eternity, and her life bound permanently to his so long as he still breathed. It was similar to necromancy, in a way, in that she would remain a permanent fixture in this galaxy until her bond with him was severed by his death. It was not immortality, far from it - even the mere act of tearing her flesh for this pact had corrupted her soul and hollowed her heart. She was not devoid of feeling, but she was without the will of those who still lived with a tether to the fates they could not control - living, perhaps, on borrowed time. Even now, her heart healthy and beating, if the Sith were to die she would as well. A consequence for their connection, but one she was willing to risk; not one she was willing to replicate, however, and thus this would be the first and the only instance of such a ritual that the galaxy would ever see. There would be steep consequences for this in the future, if she were to experience what would have been her last, but she would endure a half life if it were ever to come to that.

But, until that time, this Sith Lord would have a witch that was very much willing to perform the dark ways for him - even if she were not to see the field of combat with her own eyes.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

A dark smile grew across the Sith Lord's face as Irina cut the flesh of her palm, blood billowing out to stain the blade and pool on the marble floor beneath her. Blood was the currency of the soul, it was the reagent of magic and the catalyst for ritual. Those who knew of the ancient ways knew how powerful giving up one's blood could be, and while Irina's may be one of the few given up willingly to the Dark Lord, it was not the first he had taken and added to his collection. The blood of Sith and Jedi alike seethed in darkened rooms in the farthest pits of his vile castle, waiting for the moment that he may use them to forge weapons of unspeakable horror to rain destruction down upon his enemies.

But now he had an even more potent weapon than just blood itself, he had a witch bound to his life force that would serve him until his dying breath. He didn't bother to inform her that he was effectively immortal, that revelation would come at a later date. For now he simply accepted the bloodied dagger from Irina, and hid it away within the folds of his robe. "Servitude is not imprisonment, Irina, you will serve me, others will serve you. Imagine being the master of so many, imagine the ranks of darkness at your command, imagine what you will burn for me."

While he fully intended to have Irina be subservient to him and him alone, he did not intend to keep her shackled up in his castle only present at his whims. She would stand among the others who command his vast legions in his stead, a powerful commander of his ever expanding power base. The minute misfortune she tasted today would pale in comparison to the despair she would inflict upon the galaxy in his name, the millions who would cry out in terror at her passing before being silenced.

[member="Irina Volkov"]​

 

[Ellie Mors]

She knew well the difference between indentured servitude, even slavery, from that of total imprisonment. He spoke of the same benefits that drew her to accepting his offer of her own free will, options which she had taken into consideration at the moment prior to her decision. She did not dwell on the matter, however - she was well aware of what she was getting into, and if her words had hinted towards a misunderstanding on her part she was not going to waste their time trying to rectify that. Aside from her freedom being paid for in blood, Irina wasn't entirely certain where she would go from here - presumably operate under the Sith in some capacity, either doing his bidding or working to manipulate events in his favor - but she knew that there was no ambition for leadership in her, at least not in the capacity of commanding legions of soldiers as a military leader. Her ambitions lay elsewhere, mostly in the general pool of knowledge that had attracted Carnifex's attention to her in the first place.

Binding her life to his was only one facet of the force that she wished to explore, an entirely different kind of ambition from the brand of psychopaths that yearned for galactic domination and power. She wanted power, certainly, but only in order to better pioneer in the darker aspects of the force. Arcane expressions, scientific forays - it mattered little as long as they explored the bond between the body and the soul, and that of one being to another. Power was a means to an end for her, and the end was not control but, instead, knowledge coveted by so many and yet known to only a select few. Her personal goal to be forced from her comfort zone had been achieved, now all that remained was to delve into the depths of dark ways that had been all but barred to her during her upbringing and training.

No sooner had she relinquished the dagger, now a ceremonial piece stained with deep red streaks of her blood, than she rose to stand. Even something so small as standing after the ritual of gestures and blood sacrifice signified the change of her rising from the remnants of her prior life like a phoenix.

"Then let us stoke the embers."

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Good."

He flashed a roguish smile, and beckoned Irina to follow him as he made his way towards an auxiliary entrance adjacent to the throne room's main chamber. Beyond were many antechambers of varying size and function, each one occupied by loitering servants and other dignitaries subservient to the crown. They bowed in reverence at his passing, and there were the occasional few who looked upon the smaller witch that trailed after him with equal measures curiosity and revulsion. Beyond them were the sprawling halls of the temple, the walls adorned with various tapestries and works of art both native and foreign, Epicanthix and Sith culture blending together.

Further past all the bustle of the lower public sectors was the small living quarters used by members of the royal family when they were staying within the city of Canthar for whatever reason. Compared to their other holdings the private suite was sparsely decorated, uncharacteristically spartan in design, and only featured a small windowless chamber to serve as a place of prayer and meditation. Still, it had all of the commodities one would expect of royalty such as a large refresher, fully stocked pantry, and access to the holonet from several terminals placed strategically around the rooms.

The King gestured to all of this with a dismissive hand, "Partake in whatever you wish, your desires will be fulfilled so long as you remain under my service."

[member="Irina Volkov"]​

 

[Ellie Mors]

With little else in the way of stopping the progression of their budding alliance, the Sith quickly took the chance to show the witch through the facility. It was grandiose, fitting the man's personality and the reputation he had built for himself, but it was alien and sterile to the woman with far more humble roots. Her pale blue eyes kept their gaze sweeping across every detail she was exposed to as they walked, observing the technological difference between the Panathan king and the rustic way of life she had been raised with. Servants, soldiers, and all manner of people who had pledged their allegiance to the man castigated by the galaxy at large for his crimes walked freely through the various chambers that dotted the facility's halls. The expressions of curiosity and disgust were not lost on her, but they were met only with a neutral gaze of disinterest in return - she could see no benefit in creating rivals and enemies in the hierarchy of such a twisted empire on her first day, and she was rather hesitant to build a list of enemies before cultivating a circle of friends and allies first.

Of course they had finally left behind the section designated to the public, or at least those beneath the heel of the king himself, as Carnifex led her to the far more private, and arguably more humble, wing of the city. The royal quarters, not quite the place she'd expected to have been led to, was revealed to be, she suspected only temporarily, the place she was to stay. Perhaps the man assumed her ambition was to strive for the same degree of power he held, or perhaps for power itself - it was the only reason she could surmise that she was taken to such a place, one which housed the most powerful people on the planet, both politically and otherwise. Of course, it could simply have been a gesture of how valuable an asset he might have perceived her to be, but she was raised with a far less concrete view on the galaxy at large, often relating gestures, gifts, and actions with symbolism of a deeper meaning - much like how one might listen to a specific style of music depending on one's mood, to broadcast their feelings in the most subtle of manners.

"Much of my time will be spent with rituals and meditation, I do not suspect I will be entertaining myself with much else." She replied in turn, turning her gaze to the windowless chamber. She could already see herself in traditional garb, tea, flowers, and herbs scattered about in the throes of a divination. "My greatest work will be done behind closed doors, I suspect you will hardly need me to leave Canthar in order to receive results."

In truth she desired little in the way of power - at least in the form that those with ambition for domination sought after, that of power for control and domination. Power in its rawest state, knowledge and the ability to utilize that knowledge, to serve as a means to an end, was far more valuable than becoming powerful for the sake of strength. She would create things that would serve the Sith lord far greater than any apprentice ever would - unless that apprentice could be both the sword and the pen at once. While it was true that many Sith delved into their art of alchemy, practiced their arcane expressions of the force, it was still only part of their repertoire - for Irina, this was all that she had known and would remain to be. Her dealings with the force were first, foremost, and only dealing with the mystic properties of artifacts, the rituals and divining of both past and future. She was an unknown today, but as her bond with [member="Darth Carnifex"] solidified, so, too, would her grasp of the secrets that the force held. She would never be a master of combat, never comparable to any master of the force worth their salt when it came to its offensive applications, but she would become far more than just another warrior in the annals of time regarding her craft.

"I will make something to commemorate our conjoined paths."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Very well then, I will await the unveiling of your creation."

The Dark Lord was somewhat surprised, as far as his knowledge went the witch had never known a life other than the isolation monotony of her tribal life before she had been picked up by his slavers. Now that she had been bound to his service, she still desired to anchor herself to one place. The other slaves he had taken in had shown a fierce desire to get out into the wider galaxy and explore the stars while carrying out his will, but perhaps that was what made her exceptionally special.

He possessed an abundance of materials that Irina would find useful in her efforts, but there were many things that one couldn't acquire in surplus. "If you require anything specific, I will send my hunters out to fetch it."

[member="Irina Volkov"]​

 

[Ellie Mors]

It was true that Irina had known little else than the monotonous status quo of a secluded coven of witches. She had hungered for adventure, or at least the escape from such a primitive and quiet life, only to find herself deciding to return to seclusion of her own volition. There was a difference, however, in that she had the freedom to come and go as she pleased, not withheld by petty laws and bigoted views of the galaxy. The primary reason for her seclusion, however, wasn't simply because she enjoyed the silence and scorned companionship, quite the opposite really, but rather that it was necessary to perform the tasks she had in mind in a timely manner. One could not adequately create an object of power while entertaining a room full of guests, after all - or at least not quite as well as one might with a sharp mind and a honed focus might.

"You have given me all that I need." She said, and there was a certain perspective that made that statement true. She wasn't referring to the hide of some forgotten beast, or the jewels from a meteorite on some storm-ridden planet - [member="Darth Carnifex"] was, for all intents and purposes, only one step from obtaining all that he needed in order to see that his dreams would become reality. To push him further, to be that last stepping stone, was all that would be necessary for him to become something greater than he currently was. It would always be up to him to continue to strive to realize his goals, and not to allow himself to become blind to opportunity, but she could see the small piece inside of him that needed something else - someone else - to reach it. She didn't know what kept him from seeing it, from realizing its existence - or perhaps he willfully ignored it, wished to prove himself wrong. Whatever the case, she wouldn't pry, but she wouldn't turn a blind eye to what he wasn't taking notice of.

'Together we will become far greater than we could have alone.'

The thought, of course, remained only that - she didn't want to make him think she was using him, and - well - she was perfectly fine with the way he was already using her. Only time would tell how successful she would be, and how far they would walk along the same path, but for now she would focus on doing exactly as she said she would and create the object cementing their alliance.