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MissKitsune08's note:
This fic is a gift for karasov, who writes absolutely AMAZING Thrawn/Kleya stories. Check them out!
I couldn’t resist my favorite indulgence and wrote her a short comment fic first, then after I read armature, I finally wrote a full-fledged gift fic featuring Thrawn’s POV of the story in which he seeks out Kleya in her shop.
It works as a stand-alone story, too, since I explain how their intimate encounters began through Thrawn’s thoughts, but if you stumbled upon this fic first, I do hope you’ll read karasov’s original series afterward (written from Kleya’s POV).
Thrawn’s thoughts are mine, the dialogue and descriptions of Thrawn's and Kleya's final exchange are karasov’s.
Kleya Marki.
Mitth’raw’nuruodo knew that coming to the Galactic Antiquities and Objects of Interest was a mistake, but he couldn’t help himself.
He stood there, surrounded by priceless objets d’art from the entire galaxy, but in his mind, it should have been her standing on the pedestal.
She was a true work of art.
A woman who was intelligent, beautiful, and dangerous.
A real femme fatale.
Meeting her in the Imperial Palace when he was promoted to the rank of Grand Admiral was no coincidence.
She was there looking for information.
And just like him, she was sick of everyone present.
That was the first time he permitted himself the indulgence.
He needed to vent out his frustration, he needed to clear his mind from Batonn.
By Imperial reckoning, a flawless victory.
By Chiss standards, a catastrophic failure, given that civilian casualties outnumbered the insurgents at the time.
Perhaps he should propose an alteration to the design of a grand admiral’s uniform; crimson red would be far more appropriate for a man of his standing, that way everyone would know immediately who they were dealing with.
That was what he had been thinking just before he had met her, and it was she who had made the voices in his head stop.
During their brief, intimate encounter, he managed to forget all about the Galactic Empire, the nascent Rebellion, even the massacre on Batonn.
And about all the personal sacrifices he had made along the way.
They had parted then, and they hadn’t seen each other for quite some time.
She was a temptation.
Seductress.
A dangerous element that could jeopardise his entire mission.
Yet he couldn’t stop himself.
A part of him wished that she would refuse his opera invitation.
Another part of him wished he could take her right there, in the opera box, and make her moan loud enough that people in the nearby boxes noticed.
It didn’t happen of course, he would never let that happen, but he had to admit that the idea had crossed his mind.
He took his time with her afterwards.
They had parted then, and again, they hadn’t seen each other for quite some time.
Today, he had finally decided to visit the Galactic Antiquities and Objects of Interest, so he could see her in her element.
And what a sight it was.
If he was asked to appraise her, he would not have been able to answer.
Unfortunately, there was the matter of her allegiance.
He had suspected her to be a Rebel spy ever since he laid his glowing eyes on her for the first time, but he had no proof.
Other ideas crossed his mind as well, such as a Grysk operative, or even possibly an undercover Far Outsider vanguard agent, though he had quickly dismissed them.
Especially the latter; no biological disguise would withstand such thorough physical scrutiny.
So Rebellion it was.
A part of him wanted to arrest her, a part of him wanted to take her hard enough to drive the Rebellion from her, and a part of him wanted to sway her to his side, to make her join the Chiss Ascendancy.
But in order to do that, any of that, he needed a confession.
And he also needed the ISB as far away from her as possible.
Oh, the ISB wouldn’t fail to extract the confession, but there wouldn’t be much left of her afterwards, given how resilient she was. They would have to utterly crush her.
Then there was still a small possibility that she was innocent. That she was a mere pawn in a game of dejarik played by someone else.
No.
Unfortunately, Kleya Marki wasn’t a pawn.
She was a queen.
She was his queen.
Which was quite a complication.
He had come with a story about a listening device placed by the ISB, and while he didn’t know about the surveillance, he was certain that the listening device was there somewhere.
Naturally, she had seen through it.
"You didn’t know about the surveillance," she said, as if stung by the realization.
"The device is real,” he said.
"That's not what I said."
He held her gaze but did not answer, because there was no need. She knew.
"Which you could have told me about without asking for anything in return," she said.
"I could have. I chose not to."
"At least you're honest about it."
"I have always been honest with you," he said. That much was true. He had never spoken a word of a lie, but there was so much left unsaid. "That is not the problem between us."
She stiffened. "There is no between us."
He tried to negotiate then, since there was another matter he needed to discuss. A favor he needed from her, one which would involve compromising one of her most trusted associates.
Naturally, she had turned him down.
"You might consider," she said, her voice shifting into something cold and reckless, "what happens when someone starts paying attention to your social habits. The opera. This." She lifted one hand and gestured at the room, the two of them. "COMPNOR has exploded careers over less."
He went completely still. "If you’re threatening my career," he said, voice glacial, "I trust you’ve thought through the consequences."
He might have made a mistake coming here, but now it was she who was making a mistake by threatening him.
His career was one thing he could not afford to compromise.
There was too much at stake.
Moreover, it was an empty threat. If she attempted to make a move against him, she would have compromised herself.
"Since you are intelligent enough to have considered them," he continued, "I can only conclude you never intended to pull the trigger."
"Maybe I intend to use it."
"You don't." He moved toward her now, fast as a nexu. "Because that requires telling COMPNOR that you were there. Every time. You cannot fire that weapon without standing in its path."
"I've survived worse."
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
"If your threat was real, do you think I’d let you leave this room?" He growled dangerously, and watched as her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"What makes you think I’d let you?"
She was truly extraordinary.
He was a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy of the Galactic Empire, a regime founded on instilling fear in both its members and its enemies. And he was also a man twice her size, and four times her strength.
Yet she was unmoved by the physical threat he offered.
"This is my shop. You have no right to be here."
"And yet you let me in."
"Because I—"
Wanted you.
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. He knew.
"Get out," she said, furious. She must have realized that she had let on more than she had intended.
"No."
She shoved him hard, both hands flat against his chest, putting her weight behind it. He stumbled back a half-step but caught her wrists before she could pull back, locking her in place with arms outstretched.
He pulled her closer, drawing her wrists up against his chest until she was pinned against him.
"You knew it was an empty threat," he said. "And you made it anyway."
He watched her shiver, mesmerized.
"Yes."
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that he could.
He wasn’t sure whether he kissed her or she reached for him. Afterwards, the distinction was laughable.
After all, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
And once again, she made all those voices in his head stop.
The ones that told him that they were ashamed of what he had done, and what he had become.
THE END
MissKitsune08's note:
The voices in his head are a reference to a song he found among Agent Kallus’s possessions in one of my other stories, and it fits him so well that it would be a shame to use it only once.
I’m not sure when exactly karasov’s original fic takes place (whether it’s before or after Kallus’s defection). Let’s just assume Thrawn somehow came across it and can’t get it out of his head.
The song: