Notes: Takes place right after Nathema Flashpoint.
Theron entered the room to find Nayel standing in the middle, staring blankly at what was left of his Eternal Throne. Theron felt shivers going down his spine, thinking that whole Odessen could look like this, had the Order of Zidrog had their way.
He slowly approached Nayel, and stood behind him, in silence. He didn’t know what he could say, so hoped his presence was support enough.
He knew the loss was terrible for Nayel. Growing up as a slave, constantly physically and emotionally hurt for years, he ravished in his freedom since the moment he was taken to Korriban. Climbing the ladder of power, first in the Empire, then in Attira’s Alliance, becoming the most powerful individual in the galaxy probably felt like a destiny’s payback for all the pain he’d had to endure in childhood. Like things were finally getting even and fair.
Now he had lost all that. He was pushed off his powerful pedestal, and it hurt him on a level that no one else could feel.
Theron wanted to take away that pain. He had caused enough trouble recently, and seeing that more things made Nayel suffer angered him.
The Sith turned toward him. “I’m nothing,” he whispered dramatically, then slowly walked toward the exit.
“You’re everything to me.”
Nayel stopped, but didn’t turn or make any other move. Then resumed his pace. Theron didn’t take it personally.
The Emperor has fallen. Theron wanted to cheer up the little scared slave left behind.
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