Chapter Text
Today had been a good day for Narameia.
The young pureblood had managed to succeed in the tombs located in the valley of the dark lords.
She had slain the beast that had rummaged in Ajunta Palls tomb, completing another set of trials.
Narameia smiled at the thought of how proud her mother would be if she'd see her now, clothes splattered with the beast’s blood, lightsaber clipped to her belt, radiating dark-side energy.
As she now left the tomb she shielded her eyes from the sun.
Narameia was glad that no other acolytes were near her, so she could drop the act of pride and arrogance for a moment.
It was her survival strategy – act like the overseers and fellow acolytes expect. And you'll become kind of invisible in the crowd, fading into a background part of Korriban Sith Academy.
And it worked. Otherwise she probably wouldn't have survived all these years.
Narameia smiled again, this time her pride wasn't an act. She was proud of herself, because even if she was the worst Sith ever in terms of the whole 'dark, cruel and generally insane'-thing that most Sith considered normal, she had made it this far.
As she stepped back onto academy grounds, she had rebuild her facade and strengthened her mental shields.
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“...And acolyte Har'ak was mauled by Tuk'ata?”, the overseer asked, suspicion in his voice.
“Yes, Master.”, Narameia answered, forming a mental barrier around her true thoughts by pulling up a storm of feelings – some disgust about what had happened in the tombs, mixed with cold hate and that little bit of fear typical for acolytes facing one of the overseers.
The human Sith stopped his pacing to examine the acolyte. He was sure that the pureblood was hiding something.
“Very well. I assume that you can explain why what is left of his remains is covered in lightsaber marks.”, his voice was sharp as always.
“I found the body at the center of a Tuk'ata feeding frenzy, Har'aks lightsaber next to it. Which led me to the conclusion that it might be Har'aks body and that he got killed by the Tuk'ata.”, again she told what could be considered the truth from a certain point of view.
In reality, the now missing acolyte had fled the planet, disguised as imperial soldier whose body was then used as a decoy to fake the acolytes’ death.
Narameia knew that it wouldn't take too long until the body was correctly identified as not Har'aks.
It was a risky gamble, but she somehow thought that it felt right.
The overseer again eyed her suspiciously, before continuing his pacing, effectively dismissing her.
Narameia bowed before silently leaving.
She tried not to scream as the cold blade was dragged through her flesh again.
At first, they had interrogated her because of Har'aks disappearance. They had wanted to know where he went, who helped him, how they've done it.
But now, they kept torturing her simply because they could. Because she was nothing more than scum, even lower than a slave.
Some Inquisitors were even sending in their apprentices to practice their methods on her.
Narameia knew that in the end they would execute her, but somehow that started to actually seem like something she could look forward to. Something that would end the pain and her now senseless life.
She couldn't contain her screams as they hit her with force-lightning, making her feel as if she'd be burned alive.
Whatever drug they had injected her with, it intensified her pain, made it impossible for her to withstand it.
The pain ripping through her body seemed to last eternal, but somehow her body was going numb, leaving her feeling like it didn't belong to her.
The young pureblood didn't fight against the darkness that was pulling her mind close, away from all that pain. In reality, she welcomed the feeling, the numbness, simply because it meant some moments without pain, without the fear of what would come. Just the soft blackness surrounding her, calming as always.
But before she could drown herself in it, the lightning stopped. Then she felt the sharp sting caused by an injection needle on her neck, whatever it contained made her feel like the blood in her veins was replaced by strong acids that soon would start to tear her body apart, starting from the inside, while some other part of the drug forced her to stay conscious.
She knew that as soon as the substances reached their full effect, they would start over again.
Narameia didn't knew how much time had passed, before they dragged her back to her cell deep down in the bowels of the academy. It could have been just hours or multiple days until the jailer threw her back into her cage.
She only faintly noticed how he roughly grabbed one of her arms, dragging her over the cold stone floor before just pushing her into the small holding pen that she had started to call 'home', how her body slumped motionlessly to the ground as soon as the jailer released his hold. Then finally the darkness came again, pulling her under into the soft and warm and empty world of unconsciousness.
Narameia didn't know when she had woken up, which might have been an exaggeration in itself, since the girl seemed to struggle with staying awake. She had lost her sense of time what felt like ages ago, never managing to become completely lucid. She was simply unable to bring up the energy needed to actively purge the drugs that they injected her with out of her system, even when she wasn’t actively being tortured. There was pain still flooding her body with every slight movement she dared to do, even breathing hurt. She suspected that some of her ribs were broken again but didn't dare to look at her torso - with her senses still clouded by the drugs and poisons in her body, she couldn't see much anyways.
The young pureblood had curled herself up into a ball in the far edge of her cage, her back facing the room. There was no trace of the proud and dignified attitude that was commonly associated with her species left within the girl’s small frame. But she didn't care. She was less worth than the slaves, being the Inquisitors plaything until they would finally finish her off. Actually, she looked forward to that day, because then the pain would come to an end.
Narameia didn’t hear the sound of someone’s boots crunching on the stone floor, didn’t notice how the cell door was opened, how someone got close to her, kneeling beside her. And even if she had noticed, she’d done nothing, said nothing. She’d have thought that it was just another one send down to the cells to take her into another torture chamber, as they always did. But she felt how the strange figure took her arm, injecting her with something. Surprisingly, this strange, icy liquid filling her veins didn’t make the pain worse, it did the opposite, actually. Kind of took the edge off of it, relaxing her tensed muscles. If she’d been more lucid, then she could have heard the stranger’s voice, heard their reassuring words as they tried to be comforting. But she didn’t.
She just faintly noticed being carried through the academy’s gloomy hallways, as the young sith was trying not to fade into unconsciousness, still afraid of what they’d do with her now.