AN: Would have had this for you a week ago, but lots of people wanted some pon far porn rather than a fade to black and it took me ages to write something. Thanks to Lamb, PoorQ and Aidan's Queen.

Warnings: pon far smut, although this is the tame version. The Ao3 version is longer and dirtier if you are into that sorta thing.

Amanda did not sleep. The healer said the stims would start to cause organ damage if she continued on them any longer, but she had no choice. She thought. Hard.

Perhaps the stims and lack of sleep were affecting her brain, but she seemed to have a lot to think about. They were like a vast puzzle, her thoughts, and she felt on the verge of having all the pieces fall into place. But she could not… concentrate. Sarek's call tugged at her, a constant reminder that he was lying in his rooms, mad with the blood fever. Dying.

For her?

Because he did not wish to hurt her?

Or had he just assumed T'Rea would serve him as she had in the past? Perhaps he had not even considered this outcome. It was possible that his order she be kept from him had not been given with any thought to this possible consequence. Sarek was not selfless. He was proud and cruel. He could be kind, but Amanda could not imagine him willingly choosing death. She could imagine him regretting her death, maybe even mourning her a bit - his little Terran favourite, but choosing his own death over her safety?

No. That was not Sarek at all.

Of course he was beyond making such a choice himself. So long in plak'tow, he would be incapable of speech or coherent thought, a mindless embodiment of his most primitive needs and desires.

So then… Amanda must be the one to choose. She could remain and do nothing – wait for death or worse once Sarek succumbed, or she could flee as T'Fon had suggested and pray she would not be sought out… but… Sarek was dying because of her. If not for her, T'Rea would have served him as she had before, that much was plain. And with her son and heir dead, what would the Empress do to Amanda - she who was the cause? She would not let her return to Earth in peace. She would have to hide, go into exile. They would look for her. Would they punish her father? Earth would be the first place they looked for her and Amanda could not imagine them simply leaving her family in peace.

Running would mean bringing down the Empress's wrath on Terra once more.

But if she stayed, if she went to Sarek… The insight T'Fon had shared with her made the outcome of that plain enough - he would likely kill her.

And then what?

He'd… be sorry that she was dead, that he'd hurt her. He would regret it. Of that Amanda was certain. Sarek, who would one day be Emperor would know that he owed his life to her, a human - that instead of fleeing she had chosen to save his life, despite the hurt he had caused her and her people.

That was something. Something important.

Would that finally show him? Sarek had hinted at things, implied he did not entirely follow the Imperial rhetoric on Vulcan superiority. For all his dismissive and controlling behaviour towards her, he did not treat her like she was stupid, and he certainly wasn't repulsed by her physically. Would owing his life to her finally prove to him that humans and the other races of the galaxy were equal to his own?

Perhaps.

If not, it would at least push him in the right direction.

Her thoughts spiralled and grew like living things, not quite her own.

Amanda recalled evenings spent with Winona after they'd had too much spice-wine. Talking about the vastness of the universe and the mysteries of life – epiphanies over the mundane. Her thoughts were drifting in a similar manner.

It seemed like the right thing to do, the moral and noble choice, was to save Sarek. Not just because she did not wish him to die, but because he was the Crown Prince, and to influence him was a powerful thing. If her death could soften him, make him think... perhaps the Empire would have a kinder ruler one day. Maybe one day, decades from now, he would be sitting in judgement of some alien world and think of her, little human girl who saved his life, and he would not commit some genocide or another.

That was worth her death surely?

Yes. Amanda decided. It was.

She'd expected death long ago – back when Sarek had first singled her out at her father's banquet. That death would have achieved nothing and she'd been willing to meet it. At least… at least this time her death at Sarek's hands would not be meaningless.

Her mind made up, Sarek's pull upon her seemed to grow even stronger, an aching throb. I am coming she thought, even though Sarek could not hear her, would not understand her if he could.

She dressed in her favourite dress and robe, one of those Winona had sent from Earth. Nipponese silk in deep blue and green, elaborately decorated with flowers, birds and twisting clouds. Very pretty and very Terran, in both colour and design. Vulcan's did not dye their silks vivid blues and greens - there were no green forests or blue skies on Vulcan to emulate - and there were certainly no little pink flowers or bright-feathered songbirds to be found on a Vulcan T'Sai's robes.

Amanda applied her makeup with more care than usual and brushed out her hair so it hung in chestnut waves. Impulsively she opened the carved box that contained the pearl parure Sarek had given her what seemed like a life time ago. She picked up an earring. It was heavy in her hand, iridescent and lovely. She'd never actually worn any of the jewels. It was a shame, they were very beautiful. Now seemed a good a time as any. She donned the entire elaborate set, headdress and all. It did not quite match her robe, but the pearls glimmered prettily enough in her mirror.

T'Fon was sitting up with T'Sella outside her bedchamber door.

Both Vulcans looked up at her expectantly.

T'Fon inhaled sharply at her appearance. 'You are going to him?' she asked, not really a question.

Amanda nodded anyway.

There was a small crowd gathered in the receiving room of the Prince's Apartment. Unlike the last time she had been summoned hence, no guard barred her entrance. T'Fon and T'Sella accompanied her and no comment was made. Amanda paid little attention to her surroundings. She felt more like a princess than she had in a long time. It was very much a royal thing, to put on a pretty dress and jewels and walk calmly towards death. Her fear had faded and a detached melancholy had taken its place. She wanted it to be over. Wanted to silence the raw ache of Sarek's call. Wanted to never again walk the gilded halls of the Imperial Palace amidst sneering Vulcans and simpering slaves. She was tired, sick of being afraid, and a part of her was relieved at the thought of dying.

She recalled her mother's talk of heaven, not the Sha-ka-ri of Vulcan lore, the official, enforced faith of the Empire, but the Christian heaven of their ancestors. A golden paradise where the good and kind spent eternity with their loved ones. A place where there would be not a Vulcan or slave in sight.

Was Amanda good?

She had tried to be.

Perhaps she had once been a spoilt child, unaware of the truth of the Empire, of her position above an enslaved and trampled humanity, but she had changed much since then. Her mother had said god forgave all his children as long as they repented, and Amanda repented her youthful vanity and pride wholeheartedly. Silently she sent a prayer up, asking for forgiveness, begging a place beside her mother and brother in heaven. She focused on that thought, ignoring those around her, filling her mind with visions of them smiling and happy, waiting for her eagerly. Please God please, let me join them she prayed in English.

So intent was she upon her morbid introspection, that only the presence of the Empress herself was enough to pull her from it.

T'Pau sat resplendent in a golden throne that had not been in the room when last Amanda was in it. Arrayed around her were a dozen T'Sai and highly ranked Reldai – her ladies. Some were playing instruments, or talking quietly to one another, but three were sat around a spindly little table with the Empress, playing what appeared to be a Ferengi gambling game. Amanda recognised the little latinum bars, the square tokens and marked sticks the women held. She recalled her brother playing it with his friends.

The Empress had turned her face ever so slightly to stare at her.

She was smoking a very long pipe from which thick blue smoke was slinking heavily to form a pungent fog around her golden slippers.

Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she eyed Amanda shrewdly. 'What are you doing here girl?' she demanded. Her voice was rough from whatever acrid, foul, thing she was smoking.

The room fell silent.

Amanda supposed she ought to feel scared, impressed or nervous. Here was T'Pau, the most powerful figure in the galaxy, with her dark eyes set upon her. She was beyond caring however. Instead of thinking upon all the power this woman held, Amanda instead found herself pondering the stink of her pipe and the way her makeup was cracked along the wrinkles framing her pursed lips. She looked much older than Amanda had expected. The intricate crown she wore was perched upon thick braids that were obviously not woven from her own thinning hair.

Amanda was silent too long. T'Fon gave a deep bow and replied for her in the formal Court dialect. 'Your Imperial Majesty, Reldai Amanda has come to serve thee.'

T'Pau stared hard at T'Fon for a moment before looking again at to Amanda. She chewed on her pipe, her teeth tapping the stem with a clicking noise that echoed in the silent room. 'The komihn cannot serve.' she said. 'No matter how my son favours his little pet.' T'Pau waved a gnarled hand dismissively. 'Too weak.'

Amanda did not bother replying, just stared back blandly. The Empress would let her pass, she had nothing to lose after all. It didn't matter to T'Pau that Sarek would likely kill her. All Amanda had to do was wait out her insults.

'She has no right to be here!' someone called from near the entrance.

Amanda did not recognise the shrill angry voice until she turned to face the speaker. T'Rea stood across the room. As far from the Empress as possible Amanda noted. She doubted the Princess was T'Pau's favourite person right now. Turning her back upon the Princess, Amanda returned her attention to the Empress. 'He calls for me.' she said simply.

T'Pau puffed out a long stream of smoke. 'He will most likely snap your neck girl.' she replied blandly in Imperial Standard. Amanda made no argument. T'Pau chewed on her pipe some more. The room was silent for a long moment as the Empress apparently mulled the situation over. 'I doubt you will suffice, but since T'Rea,' the old Vulcan shot a glare of pure malice at the Princess, 'has already proven her worthlessness in this matter…' she sucked on her pipe, her thin lips smacking wetly, 'go then, let Sarek tear you into pieces. Perhaps if you put up enough of a fight…' she shrugged and then made a gesture to the armed guards standing before the inner door. They stepped aside.

Amanda bowed to the Empress and walked towards the door. She could see the agitated shape of T'Rea out of the corner of her eye, but she did not look to her, instead she followed the ache that was her bond to Sarek.

T'Fon and T'Sella did not follow.

She heard an inelegant snort as the doors swung shut behind her. 'Humans.' the Empress muttered.

Sarek's bedchamber was dark.

Amanda stood just inside, the door a prickle at her back, and waited for her eyes to adjust, her heart hammering in her chest.

It was hot. Swelteringly hot. Like midday in a Vulcan desert. Sweat beaded on her brow and her pretty robes were suddenly dragging heavily at her. The headdress perched atop her head seemed twice as heavy as when she'd put it on earlier. It dug into her scalp and pulled at her hair. The pearls around her neck seemed to be strangling her, smothering her breath. Her body shook, shivering despite the heat, and Sarek's hold upon her grew steadily to a crushing crescendo.

Amanda shut her eyes and took several deep breaths. She recited one of the snippets of human prayer she remembered as she tried to calm herself. The dark shadows slowly resolved themselves into recognisable shapes. Sort of. Couches, tables, chairs, pillows… but broken and strewn across the room as if they had been tossed around by a giant.

Gingerly Amanda picked her way through the debris, her eyes darting around herself and her ears pricked. The huge carved bed was shoved off to one side, stripped bare and vacant. The room was silent and she was loathe to break it… But where was he? She licked her lips and peered into the corners.

'Sarek?' she whispered.

There a noise. She rounded the bed and saw him.

Sarek was sat upon the floor, his knees drawn up under his chin and his arms locked around his shins. There was a faint whining, sobbing noise coming from him and he was rocking back and forth.

He looked pathetic. It calmed Amanda as her fear was softened with pity.

Whatever else he was, (mad), he was sick (dying, hurting). And whatever reasons she might have to do this thing, standing in front of Sarek, Amanda realised the most important one was that she did not want him to die.

Somehow Sarek, cruel, proud, arrogant Sarek, had wormed his way into her heart. Amanda felt a strange, sorrowful relief at the realisation. She stopped fighting the pull of their bond and crossed towards him. 'Sarek?' she called again.

The whine increased in pitch and he twitched, his head pressing down against his knees. Amanda stopped just out of his reach and sunk to her knees. She licked her lips and hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder. 'Sarek?'

He jerked in response, a violent movement, and then her arm was yanked sharply and she was sprawled across his lap, her chest held tight against the unrelenting heat of his body. He wore only sweat drenched sleeping pants, and everywhere else was bare, burning skin. Amanda reeled as a wave of intense dizziness swept over her. The bond between them flared and burnt, his need of her like an audible hum and she gasped, digging her fingers into the meat of his shoulders. His eyes were fever-bright and unrecognisable. His breath came in hot pants and his entire body was shaking minutely. His grip on her – her arm and her waist – gradually increased in strength. The whining sob was gone, replaced with a low growling rumble. Up so close she could see flecks of dried blood around his mouth from cracked or bitten lips. She knew he was lost entirely to the blood fever, his wits long gone, and yet his expression was… accusing.

She felt their bond suddenly sharpen, like a rope given a tug. It hurt.

'I am sorry.' she said. 'I should have come sooner.'

He did not react at all to her words. His face was a twisted mask, handsomeness obliterated into harsh sneering lines. He twisted a fist in her robe at her shoulder and Amanda heard it tear along a seam. She wanted to cringe and cower from him, but instead she let her braver instincts guide her.

She lifted her hands and wrapped them around his face, staring him full in the eye. His features softened, 'Sarek,' she murmured. 'I am here.'

He stared at her for a long moment, and then was a confused flurry of restless movement. He pulled at her robes, curled fingers in her hair, mouthed at her jaw and neck – his tongue rasping against her skin as he tasted her - pawed at her breasts, her hips and the curve of her backside, but his movements were silted, interrupted, as if he wanted to touch every part of her all at once but could not. Amanda leant into his touch, it was rough and messy, but every time he touched her skin she felt a curl of heat and some of the tension of the past few days slipped away with it in sweet relief. She needed him to touch her.

Sarek had managed to get her seated across his thighs and was tearing at her robes as he softly bit along her collarbone. Amanda leant her head backwards to give him more room. Her headdress slipped off and hit the ground and rolled somewhere. The pearls around her neck were gone. Sarek's teeth scraped wetly over her throat as he shoved the ruins of her robe down over her shoulders. The sharp sting had Amanda moaning her pleasure as she flailed her arms to untangle the ruined silk at her elbows. Freed of the constriction she reared up on her knees and wrapped her arms around Sarek's head, pulling him tightly against her and relishing the feel of his sweat-slick body against her bare skin.

Her undergarments, being less cumbersome, Sarek simply ripped off her body. Instead of the fear she had thought she would feel at being naked and exposed before Sarek in his plak tow, Amanda's thoughts had narrowed almost entirely to pure sensation. She'd hardly moved and yet found herself panting and shivering as if she'd run to near exhaustion. Her skin felt clammy and feverish and everywhere she touched Sarek felt like hot, perfect, relief. Sarek's hands were running over her body, painting lines up her thighs, her hips and up around her waist to trace the length of her spine and press into the wings of her shoulder blades. He pulled her flush against him and held her in his arms, his body solid and unyielding where it pressed firmly into the swell of her breasts and between her thighs.

Amanda carded her fingers through his damp hair and crowded closer. The pain from the bond had twisted into something else entirely and she longed for his kiss, for the taste of him in her mouth and the touch of his mind against hers. Blindly she tugged at his hair and squirmed in his grip until he lifted his face from her skin and she could press her mouth to his.

The hiss of annoyance on his tongue turned into a moan that vibrated along her teeth. With the first wet pass of her tongue across his lips Sarek suddenly seemed to recall what kissing was and decided he needed to do a lot of it, very thoroughly. Amanda kiss was quickly turned on its head as he licked into her mouth and curled his tongue against hers. He tasted like copper and Amanda felt something shake within her at the metallic tang. It was good, so good. She wanted more, more of his taste, more of him.

She kissed him until her jaw ached and her lips were puffy and bruised but it wasn't enough. She wanted to consume him, swallow him down inside her, twist herself into his very flesh until she's touched every part of him, every atom.

When his fingers stroked along the line of her cheekbone a thin wail of longing escaped her. Yes yes, his mind, she wanted that too, wanted that most of all. Sarek pushed her onto her back and stared down at her black-eyed, both hands now feverish on her face. His lips were flushed green and Amanda wanted to kiss him again, but the drag of thick fingers along her temple held her back.

She arched her back as the touch sparked across their bond, pulling at the tension of it in a way that was both agonising and euphoric. Sarek groaned and leant forward to press his brow to hers, his body flush and heavy atop her, his erection a steel bar against her hip, leaking and smearing her skin with precome. The heavy promise of it distracted her, had her writhing, hooking a leg around his thigh and rocking up against him right as he finally settled his fingers against her face and joined their minds.

Amanda shuddered and thrashed as heat and ecstasy burnt through her veins like acid. She felt herself pulse and flutter in wet heat between her legs, her body's emptiness suddenly unbearable, an ache a thousand time worse than the compulsion of Sarek's pull had been.

Above her Sarek snarled and then reared back and pulled at her hips and thighs, roughly aligning their bodies even as her legs grappled and twisted at his hips attempted to achieve the same. It took seconds but it felt like an eternity, like endless burning eons, and then his hips snapped forward and Amanda's world went white with delirious shock as shoved himself inside her. She was with him as he took her, fucked into her as only a Vulcan could, his mind as ensnared with her as his body, every sensation and pleasure given as hers were taken. It was nothing like the other times. His fingers dug into her hip and under the curve of her arse, pining her down and open for him, but she felt his thoughts as clearly as if those digits were still pressed to her face.

A distant part of her wondered at that but then Sarek was moving, fucking into her with jarring uneven strokes, and Amanda lost herself in the rapture and relief that the movement brought. Her pleasure crashed over her after only minutes, Amanda was so overwhelmed with sensation. Sarek crowed his satisfaction and leant over her, bracing himself with a hand above her shoulder as he chased his own finish.

Amanda wrapped her legs around him and touched him compulsively, his shoulders, his arms, his back, every part of him she could reach. He panted and gasped under her touch as he fucked her, dark eyes boring into her. His skin was hot and damp with perspiration and it the play of muscles beneath it, steely and powerful, twisted something inside her. Just touching wasn't enough. She tightened her grip, dug her fingers into the meat of his back. When her nails scored faint green lines into his skin he growled and his hips jerked roughly and she felt how he liked it. When she turned her head and bite his bicep, hard, hard enough to bruise and draw a little blood, he howled pined her to the floor with his hips, fucking into her once, twice and then spending himself hot and pulsing inside her. Amanda whimpered as the echoed ache of it rocked through her.

Sarek collapsed, panting, onto her.

Amanda pressed her face against his shoulder and revelled in the familiar smell of his skin and the feel of him warm and pliant atop her. Her thoughts didn't clear from the haze of arousal, but a thrum of contentment hummed at her from Sarek and she relaxed for the first time in a week.

He had her again on the floor where they lay, then on her knees draped over the bed so he could penetrate he deep and slow from behind. Amanda, by then somewhat achy and bruised, crawled up onto the bed. Sarek followed and curled his body around hers like a cat, pressing close to her as she napped.

When she awoke it was as if they'd not touched at all. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe beyond the burning need. She wrapped herself around Sarek, soft and demanding, and whined until he pressed inside her again. Her body was a mess, wet and filthy with his come and her own arousal, but Sarek groaned in pleasure at the slick give of her.

Afterwards he withdrew from her and filled her with his fingers instead, twisting them inside her soaked and swollen body with great relish. He stared down at the apex of her thighs as he fingered her, every now and then withdrawing his digits so it could inspect the mess upon them, then dragging them wetly across her skin, her belly, her breasts, her thighs, tracing a word, a single Vulcan glyph into her skin again and again and again. t'nash-veh, t'nash-veh, t'nash-veh. mine, mine, mine.