In a Gray Mirror pt 1

Posted on 23 Jul 2015 @ 6:37pm by Lieutenant JG (SoghHom) Grayson Jones

2,653 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 09 - Empires
Location: Unknown Detention Camp/Grayson's residence
Timeline: MU, 6 years ago

ON:

The cell was small, dark and filthy, but Tyrion didn't really seem to mind. Though badly beaten and bruised, the Betazoid family was safe for now. Well, as safe as one could be because their fates were already sealed. As telepaths, they would be executed, simply because of who they were. They were the last of the Faye line, others already having been executed months ago.

Having smuggled in a sharp dagger, Tyrion watched his three sisters huddled together in a corner, their faces white with fear. He could feel their fear as it matched his own. "What are you doing?" his mother whispered, as he crept towards the young women.

"I'm going to save them from agony," Tyrion said as he crouched before them, knowing that before they would die, they would be tortured, raped and humiliated. He loved his sisters, even if he had never found love for himself. He adored them, would do anything for them if they but asked. But he wouldn't see them suffer, he couldn't. In one quick motion, he slit their throats, watching them slump, blood pouring across their torn dresses. He had sensed their relief, before they died, their gratitude. Like him, they were trained killers but they were more delicate than he. They were, after all, women.

Tyrion turned towards his mother, raising the sharp blade to do the same for her and his father.

Hiding in a corner, huddled up like the rest of the slaves and prisoners lay Grayson, an agent for the KCA. While being part Trill, he was often surgically altered to look human to perform certain intelligence operations or more boldly assassinations. This time, he was on a pure evidence gathering mission of a potential uprising. The slaughter before him was amusing, but hardly pleasurable to watch a child turn on their parents. Having had to do so himself, Grayson nodded to the guard in an unusual act of kindness to stop the boy and save him from some of the suffering he had encountered.

Acting swiftly on the covert nod, the guard leapt towards the would be assassin and stayed his blade by a decisive blow between the shoulder blades of his rather large and spiked boot. Klingons always did have a flair for violence in the dramatic.

Tyrion cried out as his aim was spoiled, and he was thrown forward, pain lancing out between his shoulder blades. He screamed as his parents were dragged to their feet and away from the cell, fighting the Klingon as he too was hauled to his feet.

The next hours were gruesome as he was strapped to a chair and made to watch as his parents were tortured before his eyes. He screamed as he was whipped every time he tried to turn his head and avert his eyes. He was beaten mercilessly his head held in a vice as finally his parents were publicly executed. He was hauled from the chair after his bonds were cut - thereby also deeply cutting into his skin - and he was strapped to the upright contraption his father had occupied only seconds before. His clothes were stripped from his body, and just as the Klingon was about to eviscerate him Grayson called out, "Kho'chi stop." While he was enjoying the show, Grayson had had enough. "The boy has suffered enough," there was a slight irony in Grayson calling the captive a boy, since he was clearly younger than him, "I have a feeling he will be of service to us in the future." Grayson was circling the man like a vulture looking for it's next meal, allowing his hand to brush brazenly over his torso, shoulders, neck and hair before coming to a stop. "So, Betazoid. Got a name?" he asked, leaning in to an uncomfortably close range. Grayson knew very few boundaries.

Tyrion hissed at the touch, his skin aflame from the many beatings he'd suffered. Sweat stung his open wounds and being touched wasn't something he really appreciated right now. But his execution was stayed, and for that, he was grateful. "Tyrion, master," he answered softly, "my name is Tyrion."

"No need for Master, yet," he winked, inspecting his body and wounds. "Bet you never figured the KCA had agents on the inside. I've been watching your family for a while. Shame most of them had to go. But one of you will do. It is all we really need." Grayson hunkered down on the floor quite casually, "You see, we are in need of people of your particular...talents. I certainly am. Things will go much, much easier on our Terran Empire friends if we can just extract the information we need from their heads. Less of this torture and mind game business. Even if I do love it so." He pulled a blade from the Klingon guard's belt and began to play with it as he popped up and began to circle once more.

Tyrion held his breath, listening as the words just barely registered in his pain-fogged mind. His senses were numbed because of his pain and he couldn't tell truth from false in his current condition. "I want revenge," he breathed, "I want to help. Get me out of here, and I'll do whatever you ask of me." Still his eyes followed the blade, wondering if he was just going to be slaughtered any second now. He imagined the sharp blade just piercing his heart, ending his life at the Human's whim. Or at least...who looked Human.

Letting the blade trail up the captive's forearm, Grayson was clearly having too much fun as he questioned, "Who do you want revenge on? Me? The guard? I can kill him you know and no one will say anything," he smiled at his Klingon counterpart with a wicked grin and glint in his eye, eventually raising the blade to point towards him. "Getting on my good side could mean good things for you," Grayson hinted at his current standing in the Alliance.

"Him master," Tyrion whispered, regaining a little fire in his black eyes as he finally shifted his gaze to look at him. "You stayed the blade, if I get to survive, I want revenge on the guard, for murdering my parents. They died in agony master, I could feel their agony as if it was my own." His voice dropped even further. "I will be forever grateful, and I'll never question your orders. I'll be your guard, and your slave. If you will allow me to live."

Grayson raised the blade towards Tyrion and brought it crashing down around him.

The bonds around him were cut, Tyrion had been freed and the handle of the blade had been presented to him. "Don't make me regret this, he is a good guard. Oh and don't think about turning on me. I'd drop you before you got a chance love," Grayson's eyes were shining in glee as he stood back and waited.

Taking the blade, the injured Betazoid launched himself at the guard, slitting his throat in a single motion before dropping onto his chest as they both fell. Making sure the Klingon was quite dead, he crouched before Grayson and offered the blade back to him. "Never," he vowed, "my life is yours, I am yours. My blade will only stay those who wish you harm but it will never point at you."

Smiling, Grayson felt pleased with his accomplishment. Corruption and manipulation at it's easiest. Let a captive kill his captor. "I can tell this is going to be fun," he admitted while pulling a communicator from his pocket. "Jones to the Tlhab 'etlh, two to beam up. Mission success. Have medical on stand by. I want my damned spots back!"

Tyrion blinked as he felt close to fainting. Spots? The man wasn't Human then? He knew Trills were a hunted species too, if not just for their symbionts. "Thank you," he whispered, gratitude audible in his voice just as the transporter caught him. He fainted when he rematerialized, the trauma of the day finally too much. In one day, he became the last of his line, and a slave. It was just too much for his battered mind to take.

"Oh Gods, someone pick him up. Get him cleaned up, clothed and some quarters. Send word to the general we have ourselves a telepath and a pretty one at that," Grayson started to remove his slave clothing in the transporter room and was presented with his own clothes by one of his 'fan club' as he called them, a group of people who saw he was going places and would do anything they could for his company and favour. He turned to on of his Klingon friends, a male slightly older than himself, "And you...meet me in my quarters. All that time with those humans and what not has left me with an itch I need you to scratch."

A few days later, having been allowed to heal from his injuries, Tyrion approached Grayson's quarters. He was dressed in just white linen pants and a sleeveless shirt of the same fabric, his feet bare. His eyes were still black, betraying his heritage and he still bore the bruises of his beatings quite visibly. He walked tenderly as he approached Grayson, keeping his eyes cast down, just glad he was able to walk on his own and no-one needing to drag him. Kneeling down of his own volition, he waited to be acknowledged.

Grayson was still tangled between the sheets with one of his lovers when he was disturbed by another presence. Knowing that Tyrion was not there to join them, he rose from the bed to put on some clothing, mainly just a fresh set of underwear and a robe. "I see you have recovered well from your injuries. To what do we owe this pleasure?" Grayson teasingly asked as he looked to his Orion lover with a look that he lay right where he was until Grayson was ready to join him again.

"I have master," Tyrion murmured, still not looking up. "I am feeling better." He paused, not quite sure how to hold himself now. He was used to hiding away, being unseen, not being this exposed as he was now. "I wished to see if you had orders for me master. I wished to see if you were safe."

"Taraz here has been looking after me rather well," Grayson smirked thinking on last night's exploits, "but I appreciate the concern. Don't kneel around me though, it makes me uncomfortable. If you need to talk, stand and look at me like a proper guard should." The robe was removed, it made him feel uncomfortable and he returned to the bed to give his lover a kiss.

Nodding, Tyrion stood and approached the bed, taking up position beside it, his eyes fixed on the door. He was unarmed at the moment, but he was well trained, his toned body reflecting years of hard work. "Yes master," he murmured, a little relieved that he wasn't to be kneeling all his remaining life.

== 1 year later ==

Today was special. Not for Tyrion per s, but he knew it was somehow special. Though Grayson had never told him, Tyrion still knew what today was, and he had spent weeks planning for today. In secret of course because he didn't want his master to get wind of it beforehand and spoil the surprise. With what little savings he had from his allowances, he had ordered something special.

Wearing his usual linen outfit as he did when he wasn't working, the Betazoid snuck into the master bedroom and shoved the curtains around the bed aside. "Good morning master," he called out cheerfully.

Groaning, Grayson stirred..."Someone better be attacking something, or, this better be a good excuse," he rolled around to bury his face deep into the pillows. He hid his face from the world for as long as he could, today of all days, he should be allowed to sleep in.

"Oh it is," Tyrion smiled, sliding up on the bed, carefully balancing a tray with a wide variety of breakfast treats from a selected source of cultures. "I have something for you master," he whispered cheerfully, yet confidentially, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Something very special."

"Oh really?" He grinned impatiently. "Well, let us put the meal aside and come join me in bed," Grayson was beginning to enjoy their 'encounters' together. Tyrion was the only one who managed to satisfy him, that is, while still keeping his life and body intact.

"Yes really," the Betazoid grinned in return, leaning back to set the tray aside, then slide under the covers, though still fully dressed. He produced a square box which was neatly wrapped in a very shiny material. "For you," he said, as he shoved the parcel forward onto Grayson's lap. "Because today is special."

"Hmmm," he fake whined like a puppy, "I thought I was going to get to unwrap you for a second. Although, we need to work on your outfit for that. Remind me to arrange something. I'm thinking leather." Grayson grabbed a hold of Tyrion's chin with his fingers and placed a forceful yet passionate kiss on his lips. He turned his attention to the box and quickly, yet with care opened it. His eyes widened as he produced a most excellent weapon for his own personal arsenal, a Ferengi Energy Whip. It was different though somehow, the whip itself was thinner but made of a more rigid material, the handle, black with silver trim and matching activation button. "Now this...this is a weapon," Grayson lifted it to his face and began to nuzzle it like others would a new pet.

Tyrion nodded in agreement. "And it suits you well master," he answered, watching him with a happy expression on his face, glad his gift had turned out to be a good choice. "As for unwrapping me...you don't need special occasions for that master, only a mood to suit the desire. I'm not particularly attached to this linen, but it is light and comfortable, when I'm not working."

"First a test, then I unwrap you too," Grayson giggled as he began a soft charge of his new toy. The blue glow of tetryon based energy pulsed through the whip, the excitement made Grayson's heartbeat match the pace. Drawing the weapon across his forearm allowed it to discharge in small amounts, sending pain and pleasure directly to his brain in a euphoric experience. "Mmmm, that is good," smiling he returned to being flat on the bed. Pain was his drug, either his own or others and was certainly enjoying the hit. "Tell me one thing though, how did you know?" he asked, feeling the pleasure begin to fade.

"Allow me this one secret master," Tyrion requested softly, tracing the whip's previous path with his finger, "I have ways of knowing things, secret ways. Other, than reading someone." He leaned over the prone body, the fabric of his tunic the only layer of cloth between them. "One secret. But I'm glad you enjoy it, and I know you'll use it well."

"This one secret only. Tell others the date of my birth and you may find your own present turning against you," Grayson lifted his head to nuzzle Tyrion like he had his whip, feeling that both were now an extension of himself.

"I will take that secret to my grave," Tyrion promised, "if anyone knows, they will not have learned it from me." He enjoyed the gentle touch and returned it in kind, always happy when his master was in a good mood.

As Grayson began to unwrap his other present, he was in a very good mood indeed.

:: TBC ::

SoghHom Grayson Jones
Saalm Crewmember

Tyrion
Grayson's servant
[pnpc T'Vanna]

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