Chapter Seventy: Slaves of Carlac

TRIGGER WARNING

Mentions of sexual and emotional abuse, slavery, and rape

"Welcome home." Vizsla smirked at me, his scar crinkling. I sunk immediately into a ready stance, my fists lifting before my face. Damn Lux for taking my weapons and bringing me to Death Watch. "You know, slave," the Mando mocked, handing his helmet to the man behind him, "You were rude to cut me off last time we talked."

Ah. So apparently my messing around with Merrik on the Coronet pissed Vizsla off. Good. Not good….but good.

"Wait," Lux stuttered from behind my readied form, "You two know each other?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ahsoka failed to mention that you're an idiot," I hissed at him over my shoulder. "I told you I knew them."

"Oh?" Vizsla asked, brow quirking. "Did you tell him how intimately we knew each other?"

That was it. I rushed him, but I was blinded by my fear and my rage. He had baited me well, and deflected my attack even better. His armored knee connected with my diaphragm, sending it into spasm. I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

"You," Vizsla growled, pointing at the young senator. "Why did you bring her here? A known ally to the Republic?"

Lux stood above me, frozen in fear. "She-she wasn't part of the plan. She wasn't supposed to be here. She stepped in when she thought I was in danger."

"He didn't know," I gasped when the Mandalorian took another step towards the frightened kid. "He didn't."

Vizsla stopped, glancing down at me with a questioning look. "Standing up for strangers now, too?" He clicked his tongue before looking back at Lux. "Alright…give me what I want."

That triggered the formal side of the Bonteri boy. He folded his hands behind his back, ignoring me for the time being. After all….I suppose he didn't understand the full extent of my relation to Death Watch just yet. "When I know that you will use it correctly."

Even I knew that was stupid. Despite gasping for air and blind with fear, I rolled my eyes.

"Don't toy with me, boy," Vizsla warned darkly, stepping around my curled form to deal another kick to my diaphragm. I grunted, but didn't cry out, curling around his boot and twisting my body.

He was expecting it, though. He braced himself as I tried to knock out his footing before crouching and dealing a hard punch to the side of my face. I saw stars, my grip releasing to allow my attacker to step away. I felt Lux's discomfort and concern, but also his unbridled anger towards Dooku.

"You see this scar?" Vizsla continued, sitting on the crate that was to my back, so he was over me. He dragged a gloved finger down the rigged line on his face. "It was a parting gift from Count Dooku." Huh. Maybe that was why he was so angry about my intervening with Satine. "If you question my resolve again, I'll give you one just like it." He chuckled darkly, his boot coming down to press over my bruised ribs, forcing me to take shallow breaths. "She's already got one of mine."

His fingers touched my cheek, earning nipping teeth. He backhanded me, but at least it wasn't some faux soft gesture to make me feel even more helpless. "Don't," I hissed, both to Vizsla and Bonteri.

Lux stood abruptly, swallowing thickly at the display before him. "This device will tell you his location," he explained, taking the mechanism from his wrist. Osik.

I swung my legs desperately, managing to wrench myself from under Vizsla's feet. I rolled to a crouch, reaching for Lux's device. "No-" I started, before I let out a terrible scream.

My body was encased in electricity, my muscles seizing. When it stopped a moment later, I crumpled to the floor. Vizsla sighed above me, taking the device from Lux's trembling fingers. "That was painless, wasn't it?" he asked, patting Lux on the shoulder. "And I thank you for the added gift of returning our Kida to us."

Lux hesitated, glancing down at me nervously.

"Don't look at her," Vizsla encouraged, pushing the boy towards the exit. "She's nothing. Now is the time to celebrate! Go. I'll be with you shortly." Lux stopped in the entrance, looking at me with a mixture of fear and contempt. After all, he didn't know me, apart from Ahsoka vouching for me. What was I to him, other than someone stupid enough to get involved who doesn't want him following his plan? "Go." This one was darker, making Lux leave immediately with the other Death Watch member.

I shakily pushed my torso off the floor, watching Vizsla's motionless back in fear. But then I breathed slowly, letting the fear pass through me, rather than weigh me down. When my eyes snapped open from my meditation, I was surging with confidence.

I wasn't the defenseless little slave I was back when I first met Vizsla. And arguably, even then, I did a pretty good job defending myself. Either way, I had since trained under Jango Fett as a bounty hunter. I'd trained as a Force-Wielder by followers of all Paths. And every day, I learned something new from the clones or the Jedi. I could always be faster. Stronger. Smarter.

I stood a chance against this man.

And he just made it one-on-one by clearing the tent. With a resurgence of confident energy, I pushed myself to my feet, rolling my shoulders to shake the rigidness left by the electric pulse.

"Finally alone," I heard Vizsla sigh finally, his mind dark and swirling with terrible things.

My lips quirked anyways. "Yup." My heel connected with the side of his head as I finished twisting through my round-house. It wasn't the most effective take-down...but it felt really good to do.

Vizsla, despite being taken off-guard, was quick. He reeled for only a moment before finding his stance again, his pistol drawn.

I was just as fast as him, though. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, dragging his weapon to the side as it went off over my shoulder. To most people, the sound would make them jump. But to people like Vizsla and I-warriors raised surrounded by bloodshed-we didn't even bat an eye.

The others heard the blaster fire, though, drawing them back to the tent their leader had just vacated.

I turned abruptly, driving my elbow back hard into Vizla's chest, aiming between the pieces of beskar. A second well-placed elbow met his cheek next.

But I could sense the other members of Death Watch approaching with hesitant concern. My time was short.

I spun to try and finish Vizsla off and bolt, but my moment of sensing the others was a moment wasted. Pain blossomed across my nose and lips when Viszla's armored fist kissed my chin.

It was a hard hit, I'd give him that.

My vision was swirling stars as my legs buckled, my body tumbling backwards from the force of the blow. I fell with a low cry, my head slapping against the frozen ground. I'd fallen through the tent flaps, the metallic hint of blood telling me the hit had split my lip.

I licked it gingerly as I forced my vision to stop spinning, rolling to try and push myself back to my feet. Members of Death Watch had gathered, but none of them looked concerned anymore. I'd change that-

"No," I growled through gritted teeth, my plan changing abruptly at the feeling of angry fingers twisting into my ponytail. Damn my growing hair. This was why I used to cut it.

Vizsla yanked hard, making me pitch forward back to my knees in a struggle to keep my hair from pulling from my scalp. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, desperately clawing at him to no avail. He dragged me by my hair, throwing me to the cold ground at the center of his encampment.

I panted between a mixture of rage and terror. I was an idiot, I realized as I looked around at the amassing group of spectators. In my cockiness and need to make Vizsla suffer, I'd probably lost my one chance at killing him easily.

Now it was going to be a lot harder.

"Look at our little bounty hunter now," Vizsla called to the group, mocking me with a sinister grin.

I spit the blood from my mouth, wiping the back of my hand across my lips. It stung where the skin had split, but I ignored it, dragging myself to my feet. My ribs ached from where I'd likely cracked them, my muscles still sore from how they convulsed under the electric pulse. Still, I gave Vizsla my darkest scowl, my fists lifting before me again.

His scar wrinkled when he smiled. "You always did have fight in you." His thumb tapped against his blaster that hung at his side. I felt his mind. He didn't have the patience for a fist fight right now.

Slowly, as he and the others chuckled and threw taunts at me, I pulled the shawl off completely, unwinding it from around my neck. Everyone knew who I was anyways. Before Vizsla had a chance to decide if he was going to shoot me or not, I whipped the shawl out, wrapping it around his forearm.

It was easy to ensnare him after that. I ducked beneath his wild attempt to hit me, pulling the shawl with me to use his own arm to block before trapping both of his wrists together. I spun behind him quickly, crouching to sweep the shawl beneath his legs and wrench him forwards.

I pulled him with such force that the man practically did a flip. I even almost managed to feel amused when I saw the shocked look on his face as he passed me in the air. I was above him in moments, fist cocked to jab his trachea. Rangir. I was ending this.

And then something hit me really hard from the side, throwing me sideways. That something was Bo-Katan, who I tried to roll with. She fought my momentum, but I was able to get my feet between us, throwing her off.

That didn't change the fact that I was outnumbered, though.

Or that Pre Vizsla was, at his core, a ge'hu'tuun.

I sensed the shot before I felt it, but while the Force told me it was coming, it also told me I couldn't avoid it.

The pain was searing as the shot tore through my left thigh, just above my knee. I'd been shot before, and it had never felt good, but something about this was worse. Maybe it was the humiliation or the dishonor of it all.

Or maybe it was the cocky smirk I saw behind the smoking barrel of Vizsla's pistol.

I held back my tears stubbornly as I clutched my leg in anguish, my vision dancing with black spots. I glared up at Vizsla and Bo through my pain, my fear beginning to wash over the rage and power I'd once felt within the Force. I felt locked out, unable to tap into it.

It was cold.

I screamed when Vizsla's boot came down on my wound. "Such a pretty sound," he cooed darkly. Bile rose in my throat, but from the pain or the implications of his words, I couldn't say. "I'd like to hear it more." He ground down hard with his foot, my scream gurgling in my throat as tears finally burst forth.

Still, I wouldn't beg. I'd never beg.

Finally, he lifted the pressure, my breaths coming in short, gasping pants. I hated how watery it sounded. But damn, did that hurt.

Though the tears were also stemming from a horrible truth. A truth Vizsla and I both understood in that moment.

The Mandalorian crouched in front of where I lay crumpled on the frozen dirt. His gloved fingers pressed harshly into the flesh of my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. My hand wrapped around his wrist immediately, but I'm ashamed to say my grip was anything but strong. Every inch of me was trembling in terror.

"I'd have thought you'd have learned to stop fighting me by now," he murmured, his expression deep in thought. His hand gravitated to my hair, pulling my head back to let him look at my face fully. Blood still dripped down my chin from my split lip, my cheek and forehead wet with the muddy snow. "Look at you," he chuckled gently, making me flinch. "You've certainly grown since we saw each other last. Really saw each other, I mean."

I was getting lightheaded. He was too close, his breath rancid with memories as it washed over my face. I blinked them away angrily, doing my best to bear the man examining me like livestock. Focusing on my breathing, I did my best to tune him out, but it was impossible.

"You're truly a woman now." He said it appraisingly, but it made me wish I was born with horrible disfigurements, just to avoid his gaze now. "Isn't she?" He asked this to Bo-Katan, who was standing behind me with her arms crossed.

She paused for a second, and despite my weird lockout from the Force, I could have sworn I felt her discomfort. Finally, though, she tilted her head and shrugged. "Still a bit skinny, for my taste."

It occurred to me that I'd never seen Bo at the slave tents when I was their captive. Nor had she ever requested a slave's company.

While I respected her not taking advantage of people who couldn't say otherwise, I still faulted her for doing nothing. Standing and watching something horrible is almost like doing the deed yourself, if you have the power to do something about it.

Vizsla chuckled, bringing me back to the present as he stood. He reached down, his hand gripping my elbow to pull me to my feet. I somehow managed to grit my teeth against the pained cry I wanted to let out. While I managed to stay upright amongst the fear and pain, I had to balance on one foot...and Vizsla.

He seemed to love it, his other arm curling around my waist to hold me against him as we walked. "It's time to celebrate!" he called, the others cheering loudly. Many were still heckling me amongst their laughter.

I was practically drunk with pain when Vizsla dragged me through the entrance of their dining tent. It was already filling with Mandalorians, Lux drinking with a few already. His eyes widened when he saw my dirty and tear-streaked face, as well as the wound bleeding on my leg. My jaw tightened when I made eye contact with him, but I said nothing. Now wasn't the time for him to have a moral epiphany and get us both killed in the meantime.

Vizsla was terrifyingly gentle when he settled me into a seat. I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying to scoot away, but was quickly ensnared by his arm around my waist. My immediate reaction was to aim my fist at his gett'se. His other hand caught my wrist, though, shoving my fist into the wound on my thigh.

I let out a low string of curses behind tight lips, my eyes screwing shut. The leader of Death Watch leaned in close, his words warm against the shell of my ear. "Now, now. Don't get ahead of yourself."

I wanted to vomit.

And then my attention was drawn elsewhere, when a woman approached, dripping with nervous energy. The cups on her tray were sloshing liquid she was trembling so badly. She didn't speak, but bowed her head and offered the platter to Vizsla.

My nose crinkled in distaste when I realized the poor girl was a slave. One of many, it seemed. Looking around, I saw at least ten of them working the dining floor. Vizsla grabbed two of the cups, pushing one into my weak hands. I scowled at him.

"It isn't poisoned," he chuckled darkly, taking a long sip of his drink. He stopped mid-gulp, glancing at me with a raised brow. "Or drugged. That's not really my style. You know that."

I took a long drink of the harsh liquor to try and still the shaking in my limbs. And to shut Vizsla up. Because I did know that wasn't his style. I knew his style. I shook off the tidal wave of memories, but couldn't be free of his grip on my waist. Or the overbearing smell and warmth of his nearness.

Over the rim of my cup, my eyes snapped up at the sound of a distressed young woman. There were loud jeers from the warriors as they pulled at the girl's dress and hair ornaments. She was crying, her face red with shame. I didn't know her culture, but whatever their customs, I could tell that touching these things were demeaning in every sense of the term.

There wasn't even a thought process in my brain. My aching muscles flexed to lift me from my seat and throw me across the room to the poor girl's defense. But Vizsla hadn't been shot ten minutes ago and was quick to drag me back to his side. I'd thought it impossible, but he managed to draw me even closer than before.

"Don't even think about it," he chuckled gently, ensnaring me below his arm. He turned his head, pressing his lips to the wisps of hair that had fallen from my tie. I still shifted in his grip, but I only felt him smile against my head. "I know you have no regard for your well-being, and can take a hell of a hit. So if you make one move against me, or disobey one order," his lips pressed against my earlobe, his tongue tracing the outside mockingly. I closed my eyes, imagining castrating the man in order to keep from puking. "I'll do all the things we know you want to do to me….to one of them."

My eyes snapped open, silencing the dream I was having of hurting him. They weren't so pleasant anymore, considering I was now thinking the same things would happen to these defenseless women. My jaw tightened, but I said nothing as Vizsla's hand curled around my hip comfortably. For him, at least.

"Or," he said just as softly. "I'll do it to your little friend here." His gaze cut sideways to Lux, making my head turn to see the boy taking a long drink from a new cup given to him by one of the girls.

"What makes you think I care about him?" I bit, doing my best to seem convincing. Sure, the kid was an idiot, but I knew he was driven by anger. I understood that feeling far too well.

And Ahsoka would never forgive me if I just left him behind with Death Watch. I saw the slight darkening of her cheeks when she had told me about him. And I'd felt the conflict within her at the attraction she felt towards him.

I understood that feeling too, in my own way.

Vizsla only chuckled. "Please. After your little stunt on the Coronet, I had my men look into you." He looked down at me with dark glee. "The boy said you stepped in when he was in danger. Your record shows a lot of compassion," he commented, his other hand coming up to play with a loose strand of my hair.

My blood boiled, but my leg was still afire with pain, blinding my sight within the Force. I wanted to focus and breathe….reconnect with the Living Force that I'd grown so used to feeling around me.

But it was impossible between the pain and the constant bombardment of terrible memories my current company triggered.

"You have no idea who I am," I growled, but didn't pull away from his touch. That, in itself, proved that he was right.

And in a way, he was.

But what he didn't know was that I was choosing to lie in wait. I was wounded and outnumbered, as well as unarmed. I wasn't stupid. And even an idiot could tell there was no escaping this. But a chance would come...and when it did, I'd be sure to burn the entire encampment to the ground.

Finally, Vizsla leaned away from me, his arm still draped lazily over my shoulder. His fingers traced my neck mindlessly, making my muscles coil in disgust. "As you can see," he said to Lux, but loud enough for others to hear. "Kida belongs here, and fits in well." I wanted to stab him. I wanted to stab him so bad. But I stilled my itching trigger finger and took a long drink of the off-brand attempt at Mandalorian rum. "Now, how will you fit in?"

Vizsla's brow arched in a challenging sort of way. We all knew what he was asking. Was Lux okay with what he was seeing? Or would he dare to speak against it?

Lux's gaze cut to me briefly before his brows furrowed. "All I want is Dooku dead." My jaw tightened as I looked away from them both, knowing the look of glee that would be painting Vizsla's features.

In the end, Bonteri's response was the smartest choice, whether or not he believed it. If he did, I couldn't bring myself to think it was a question of morality. I more saw the angry boy as a blinded Bantha, stampeding through a town in a blind rage after the faint scent of his goal. His mother had just been murdered. I empathised with his pain.

And his lust for vengeance.

By Ka'ra…Was this kid just an older, more pompous Boba?

The older sister in me rolled her eyes, proclaiming that Boba, despite being my beloved brother, would always be a little piece of osik. I saw the kid's rampaging pre-teen years. Of course I would always see him as a little osik.

My gaze cut sideways again when a gust of cold wind flew through the tent entrance, accompanied by three men. My brows raised immediately in interest. These men had similar features and were dressed similarly to the women enslaved by Death Watch.

Were these more slaves?

"Vizsla!" the first spit with an accented tongue, making me sit up a bit straighter. That certainly wasn't the way I remembered slaves talking to Death Watch.

Vizsla's fingers tightened slightly against my neck before he stood, guiding Lux up with him. I remained seated, knowing that's what Vizsla would want. He wanted me to look docile, so I would. For now.

"Chieftain Pieter," he sighed, lifting his glass in a forced formal greeting. "I don't remember summoning you." His words were more to his warriors than the new arrivals.

The men glanced at each other briefly in confusion. Oh boy…. The first-Chieftain Pieter-seemed to gain the courage to respond first.

He pointed at Vizsla and spoke in his native tongue. I was taken aback by it, because it seemed almost like a ridiculous hybrid of Naboo and Jawaese. My head tilted in mild curiosity while I tried to piece together what he was ranting about.

He stuttered in bits of broken Galactic Basic, which he had apparently tried to learn from Death Watch. Not very well, it seemed. There was something about women. And stealing food.

Vizsla only sighed, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Listen, we've been over this before. I can't understand you."

The chieftain stomped his foot slightly. "I...have tried…" he seemed to search for the words. "Learn your words. You...take. No…" his voice trailed off in despair, unable to figure out the words he was trying to communicate.

"Well, as I've said before," Vizsla said dismissively. "We have no qualms with your people. If you have any with us, you only need to show us, or communicate it in some way. If you can't do that," he shrugged. "I can't help you."

The native men looked lost and defeated, shifting uncomfortably in their boots. They likely understood little to none of what Vizsla was saying to them. The chieftain, overcome with emotion, began crying out in his native tongue, his tone desperate but firm.

I caught bits and pieces. Enough to piece together that Death Watch had stolen women and goods from their village, including the chieftain's granddaughter. I frowned when Vizsla only waved his hand, two of his men coming forward to push the visitors out.

One of the slave girls rushed forward after them, crying out what I assumed was 'grandfather.' Bo-Katan grabbed her by the wrist immediately, throwing the girl to the ground.

"No!" Chieftain Pieter cried, only to be blocked by his own Mandalorian warrior. Everything was getting too chaotic. I closed my eyes, free of Vizsla's touch for the moment, and did my best to ignore the pain and center myself. The Force greeted me like an old friend, welcoming me back into its flow. I didn't dive too deep, though, not wanting to connect my emotions to others. I was on rocky ground as it was, considering I thought I was having a break on this mission. Umbara had...messed with all of us, in our own ways.

I stood abruptly, ignoring the screaming in my leg. "Stop," I said loudly, but not screaming. Strangely, the room quieted and turned to me in shock. I looked directly into Vizsla's eyes when he glanced over his shoulder at me. "I can understand them. A little. And I think I could make him understand me."

I was catching Vizsla in a trap, and he knew it. He was playing the part of a warrior of justice. Still, I saw his lips curl just slightly with an amused grin.

He folded his arms over his chest, gesturing with his cup. "Be my guest."

The warriors stepped away from the native men, but Bo-Katan didn't move from her place above the girl. So I mustered myself, willing the Force to help me through the pain as I hobbled from my seat and to the young girl's side.

I offered her my hand, speaking the word for friend in Naboo. It must have been close enough to her term, because her eyes lit up slightly. She accepted my hand, muttering thanks in her language.

I nodded, helping her to her feet and gesturing for her to return to her post. She gave me a worried look, but obeyed. Finally, I turned to the Chieftain.

"Chieftain Pieter, my name is Kida," I said in Naboo. "I'll try and translate as best I can."

The man's face relaxed with relief, though I felt he was hearing my words as if through a thick accent. And as if a foreigner was attempting to speak his tongue without really learning it.

I suppose that was true.

"Kida. Thank you for helping us. Are you a new member of their tribe?" The words were dicy, and a bit confusing, but I understood him well enough.

My nose crinkled at the thought of being one of Death Watch. "No. I'm a captive, like your granddaughter." The lines in his face deepened with sorrow, but he never got the chance to respond.

"What are you saying to him?" Vizsla asked harshly, appearing at my side suddenly. His hand yanked my arm sideways, forcing me to look at him.

I remained calm, though, gazing at him steadily. "I'm introducing myself. Being polite."

The leader of Death Watch didn't look convinced. His finger came up to point in my face, making me frown. "You will translate word for word, do you understand?"

I didn't respond, but looked back to the chieftain, giving him a nod. He spoke to Vizsla now, his words passionate and angry like they were when he first entered the tent.

"You have taken our women," I translated as he spoke, "stolen our food, and threatened us for too long." I looked back to Vizsla when the chieftain was done, lifting my brow.

"It's brave for you to come here with such bold words," Vizsla responded. I sighed, but translated directly when his thumb pressed harder into the brand on the inside of my arm.

"You are no longer welcome here," I translated the chieftain's angry proclamation. The hair raised on the back of my neck at the thought of what this man was bringing upon himself.

Vizsla bowed lowly, his head dipping dramatically. "Well, if our presence here isn't welcome, we'll make ready to leave." I swallowed thickly after translating, hearing the low chuckles resonating through the warriors in the crowd.

"And you'll return our people to us?" I asked for the chieftain, feeling his blind hope.

"Yes," Vizsla promised, making me translate the horrible thing I knew was a lie. "Sunrise tomorrow. You have my word."

"Very well," I translated for the native as he turned and left in a huff. "We'll be waiting." I breathed slowly through my sadness, knowing I just helped Vizsla lie to these people. He would never leave. He didn't care how they felt.

I turned out of Vizsla's grasp and returned to my seat, taking a long drink from my cup of liquor. "See?" Lux whispered, shifting closer on the bench, "They're not the butchers you make them out to be."

I turned to him sharply, my jaw tight. "You are blinded by your rage, Bonteri. Your mother was a good woman. A strong woman. But I know she wasn't an idiot. Try and be more like her and open your damn eyes."

That seemed to strike a nerve. "You know nothing about my mother," he spit.

My hand was on his chest immediately, moving him further from my face. I'd had enough of men getting all up in my personal space that day, thank you very much. "And you know nothing about me. And nothing about Death Watch. They are slavers and murderers. Rapists," I hissed, my heart clenching at my own words.

I saw Lux's face flicker away from determination, borderlining on something akin to fear. He didn't get a chance to say anything, because the native girl from earlier appeared at my side.

"I'm sorry," she said in her tongue, "I think you need to translate again."

I glanced up to see Vizsla staring at Lux and I from across the room. He said nothing on that, commanding me to translate. "Have her take you to the servants quarters and treat your wound."

I nodded, communicating it to the girl. She immediately helped me stand, letting me put some of my weight on her shoulders. "Still don't need a translator?" I muttered to myself as we stepped away, remembering how he'd taunted me all those years ago before scarring my face with his black blade.

I was stupid then. And I am stupid now.

Vizsla was across the room in a second, pulling me from the girl's shoulder and spinning me to face him. I nearly cried out at the sudden movement in my leg, but managed to keep it down. "What was that?" he asked darkly.

I breathed in slowly through my nose. "Still don't need a translator?" I repeated, apparently growing in boldness at the same speed I was growing in idiocy.

By the grace of Ka'ra, Vizsla broke out in laughter, prodding the others to do so, as well. I stood frighteningly still, waiting for him to actually respond. When his laughter died, he still smiled at me, but it was crooked and off-putting, rather than pleasant. "You always had a tongue on you."

I didn't notice his eyes flashing down to my lips before it was too late.

His hands clamped on either side of my face, dragging me forward to connect my mouth with his. The taste was sharp from the liquor on his tongue when he forced it past my lips. I stood completely still, not responding.

It was quick and meant to humiliate me. It worked.

He pulled away, my mouth wet with his saliva. I didn't move until he turned away, making a large show of wiping my arm across my face to rid him from my skin. I still felt violated.

But I let the young native girl lead me from the tent in my shame and rage, the two of us stumbling through the blizzard to the servant's tent. It was small, but warm, and filled with young girls who all looked worse for wear.

"I am sorry about your leg," the girl helping me said as she settled me onto a cushion. "They are far from rational."

I even surprised myself with the chuckle that rumbled in my chest. "You have no idea." Some of the girls looked shocked and excited to be able to communicate with someone. Others glanced at each other in confusion at what I implied. "I have been a captive of Death Watch before," I explained with a sigh as I slowly worked my boot off. "I'm Kida."

"My name is Tryla," the native girl from before responded, kneeling to help me roll up my pants to reveal my blaster wound. "Thank you for translating for my grandfather." The word for grandfather was strange and completely unfamiliar to me, but I recognized it from when she'd cried it earlier in the dining tent.

I nodded, wincing slightly when she dabbed at my wound with a sterile cloth. One of the others had found a medical kit, it seemed. "How long have you been here?"

Tryla sighed, lowering her head. "Weeks."

"I'm sorry. Can I ask...have they…" for some reason, my words trailed off. Despite understanding the exact position they were in, I couldn't bring myself to ask the question.

Turns out, I didn't have to. Tryla's hand touched mine gently, her fingers squeezing with kindness. Her big eyes, a bit further apart than most human-variants I'd met, were welling with tears. She didn't have to say anything to answer, either.

I turned my hand over to grasp hers, squeezing back. I leaned down, touching my forehead to hers, as my father had done to Boba and I so long ago. It was a greeting. A touch of affection. Of camaraderie. Tryla seemed to understand it as she trembled, tears staining my pants as she continued to silently work on my leg.

I helped her as best I could, but decided changing the subject was an even better help. "How far is your village?"

"Not far. Walking distance." I nodded. That made sense, considering I hadn't heard a speeder when her grandfather came and went. They must have walked in that blizzard. "We are a simple people," Tryla continued without my prodding, and I did my best to follow along in my caveman-like translations. "We trust easily, and we were betrayed."

I'd met many people like them in my travels, unfortunately. And people on the opposite side of the spectrum, too. People who would never trust, no matter what you did to earn it.

It was then that I decided merely escaping wasn't an option anymore. That was still the plan, of course, but now there were extra factors in play. Bonteri had to get out alive, if not for his sake, for my own, since Ahsoka would skin me if I willingly let him die. And now I felt responsible for these simple country girls. They were sweet and caring, all of them looking at me with wounded doe eyes.

I knew the lost look on their gazes. The look of despair, but all of them trying so desperately to hold onto even a single strand of hope.

"I'm going to do everything I can to get you all out of here," I announced to the room in Naboo, hoping it was getting acrossed enough, "I promise." Ah. A promise for a bounty hunter was a finicky thing. Jango often warned me against making them when I was younger. Especially if they were driven by the heart.

Which...all of mine usually were.

A dark presence approached, the girls noticing my muscles tightening as they finished applying the final bacta-patch. We all looked up as the tent flaps opened to reveal Pre Vizsla. He said nothing, but pointed at me, crooking his finger in a 'come-hither' motion.

I let out a slow breath, all of the girls sighing in guilty relief that it wasn't them. I couldn't really blame them, though. Rolling down my pant leg and putting my boot on again, I limped to the door, waiting with a lifted chin for Vizsla to move out of my way.

His piercing blue eyes raked over my frame, making me shift uncomfortably. Finally, he stepped aside with a twisted grin, letting me walk past him. He dealt a small slap to my butt as I passed, making me jump in fright and then stumble on my bum leg.

I caught myself, though, stiff-legged and the ground cold beneath my bare fingers. Thankfully, though, the wind had stopped.

Vizsla's boots crunched in the snow as he approached behind me, touching my hips lightly. "This is a good look for you." I straightened abruptly, turning to push him away slightly in fright. "Now, now," he gave me a mock frown, scolding me like I was a child. "You know better than that. Come here."

I didn't move. I'm not sure if it was boldness, fear, stupidity, or all of the above.

His frown deepened, darkening the shadow of his scar. He snapped his fingers, making me flinch. I hated that reaction. And I hated him snapping at me like an animal. "Come here, Kida," he said, his voice sharper this time.

My mouth was dry as I stepped forward, close enough for him to reach out and touch me. He didn't thankfully, but he was examining my face like a parent inspected a child who did something wrong.

"I didn't like how you didn't react to my kissing you earlier."

He was pacing around me now, but I stood still, my back rigid. "Did you want me to fight back?" I asked, cutting my gaze sideways to him. "I'm glad to."

Despite the fact that the question was rhetorical, my sass seemed to make him grin. "I've always said I admired your fighting spirit," he conceded with a dark grin as he passed by my line of vision again.

"Does it amuse you to dangle me on a string?" I sighed, my jaw tight.

Vizsla chuckled behind me. "It does, actually. But no, I don't want you to fight back." He had stopped circling me, his hand tracing over my shoulders, brushing the stray hairs from the nape of my neck. My fingers curled into a tight fist at my side, but I didn't move, thinking of the girls inside the tent only a few feet away.

Behind us, the bonfire roared, likely casting us in a lovely silhouetted show for whoever else might have been watching. I swallowed thickly as Vizsla reached up, pulling the tie from my hair. My dirty locks fell around my face in unkempt waves, just dusting my collarbones. I stayed staring straight forward, my breaths coming short through my nose as I tried to stay centered.

His fingers traced down my arm to press against my slave brand. I pulled my arm away, but he only gripped tighter, pulling me closer. Vizsla clicked his tongue. "Remember our deal, Kida."

Ha. It was less a deal than a dark promise from him. Yet, I stilled myself, letting him pull me closer, his hand tilting my chin to look at him.

"I want you to kiss me." My eyes widened at his words, but he only grinned at my silence. He had me trapped.

I swallowed thickly, leaning forward to quickly press my lips to his. It was chaste and I pulled away quickly as if I'd touched a hot flame. Vizsla's grip on my shoulders stilled me, though.

His brow arched in mild amusement. "Now, what was that?" He cleared his throat, chuckling slightly. "Maybe I should be more descriptive. Do you love anyone Kida?"

I cut my gaze away quickly, my heart racing with fear. Apparently that was an answer. Osik.

"Ah, you do. Good. What's his name? Her?" He wiggled his brows, obviously mocking me.

"I won't tell you that," I hissed through gritted teeth, fists clenched at my sides.

"Fine," he chuckled, his hands coming up to touch my cheeks. His touch was anything but gentle, though I doubted he intended it to be. "I want you to kiss me like you would kiss the person you love."

My breath froze in my lungs, completely unable to take in air. "No," I whispered, shaking my head against his touch.

He strengthened his hold, stopping my face from moving. "Yes." It was firm and said lowly, like a warning. And that's exactly what it was. Again, he had me trapped.

Yet…

I wanted to barf at the mere idea. But it would work. Maybe.

I let out a slow, calming breath, closing my eyes. As I did, I lifted my hands to rest on Vizsla's chest plate. I leaned up, touching my lips to his gentle, before pulling away. I felt his frustration, and just as he was about to threaten me again, I smashed my lips against his in an open-mouthed kiss.

At first, he was shocked. And then he was a jagyc. He stayed motionless like I had before, letting me kiss him. That wouldn't work for the plan.

I begrudgingly stepped closer, pressing my chest against his. That did it. His head tilted as he returned the kiss, his tongue tasting of smoke and liquor. And like horrible memories. His hands threaded into my loose hair, taking control of the kiss. I let him, knowing he would do that eventually.

It was exactly what I wanted. I put one hand up to touch his face, acting like it was a caress. In reality, it was to brush my finger over his cheek and make sure his eyes were closed. When I knew they were, my other hand traced up his arm, holding his wrist as if he was pulling my hair too hard.

After a moment of pretending like I was giving up on making him let go, I dropped my hand, taking the blade from Vizsla's wrist gauntlet as I went. I flipped the blade in my grasp quickly, slipping it into my sleeve.

And then I bit into Vizsla's lip. He pulled back quick enough to keep me from tearing it from his jaw completely, but he now had a bloody lip to match my own. He cursed, seeing the blood on his hand when he touched his face.

He backhanded me, sending me to the ground. He was quick to pull me back to my feet, holding me by the front of my jacket. "How dare you," he spit, blood dripping down his chin. "You little bitch." He looked down at me, his eyes gazing down where my jacket was clenched in his fist. It opened up a prime view down my shirt. "Take this off," he said suddenly, releasing my jacket. His voice was soft, but commanding. Intimidating and foreboding.

I stared at him, my gaze cold. "No."

"What?" he bit, stepping closer to tower over my form.

"No," I repeated, my voice still firm. Perhaps it was the security of the blade concealed against my forearm. "I won't be removing any of my clothes for you, or anyone else. And I'll be returning to the servant's tent now to sleep."

Vizsla only grinned darkly, stepping closer. I didn't move, waiting for him. "If not you, maybe one of them?" His gaze flickered over my shoulder to where the servants tent lay.

My blood boiled, but I kept my face stoic. "Neither you nor your men will be laying a finger on those girls tonight," I promised.

Vizsla was in front of me in a moment, his hand clamped around my neck. "You're in no position to make demands, little girl."

"Neither are you," I gasped around his grip. I tapped my blade against the inside of his thigh, drawing his attention to where I'd placed it. The sharp edge was pressing into the fabric between his armor, right over his gett'se.

Despite the danger in Vizsla's eyes, I also saw a spark of amusement. "So what's your plan?" he asked, trying to draw the attention away from his very much threatened genitals. "Let's say you defend the ladies tonight. So I kill Bonteri."

"Kill him," I said immediately, with as much darkness and conviction as I could muster. It was the only way I could protect him. For once that day, I seemed to be convincing enough. Vizsla's face actually brightened slightly, making my frown deepen.

"You've certainly grown, Miss Fett." His use of my father's name made me recoil slightly. Vizsla's head dipped slightly. "I understand when I've lost the battle, but know the war is far from over. Sleep well."

He stepped back slowly, careful at my unmoving blade. When he was at a safe distance, he turned with a grin cast my way before disappearing into the encampment. I let out a slow, trembling breath.

I'd faced down Count Dooku, ghosts of hundreds of Sith warriors, Darth Bane's spirit, literal personifications of the Living Force, and countless other, way less terrifying enemies.

But none were as terrifying as that moment.

I felt weak and exhausted. Terrified and empowered. Strong and hopeful. I needed rest. And to heal. I turned and reentered the tent, giddy at the fact that Vizsla seemed amused enough by me that he let me keep the knife for now. I'd make sure to have that backfire on him somehow.

As I reentered, ignoring the prodding questions of the girls and bedding down to rest, I centered myself. I'd managed to heal Ahsoka and Rex using the Force before. So...why wouldn't that idea work on me?

With the lights dimming and the encampment finally going to sleep, I let myself fall into a deep meditation, focusing on the wound in my leg….and planning how the hell I was going to get us all out of here alive.

MANDO'A

Osik- shit

Rangir- to hell with it

Ge'hu'tuun- not even worthy of being called 'coward'

Gett'se- balls

Jagyc- dick

Author's Note:

Please understand the trigger warning was out of courtesy. While I know this doesn't go anywhere near as far as it could have (though I would 1. Never do that to Kida 2. She would never let that happen to her again and 3. I don't have the heart or stomach to write it) I just wanted to be safe, as you never know someone's story.

And as such, I can only hope I do the emotions and terrible conflict of this kind of situation even a miniscule of justice.

As always, reviews/likes/shares are always appreciated!

-Ryder