Outlander
Title: Outlander
Author: Fromgrissom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sara is a member of the most powerful family on the planet, but when Gil Grissom comes from the Outlands on the far reaches of the galaxy to negotiate peace with her uncle, suspicions grow and plots are created that will entwine their fates further than either would imagine.
A/N: Please be gentle with this fic! Seriously, it's the first time I've tried to do anything in this genre and any comments or advice would be very welcome. At the moment it's a stand-alone, but I'm thinking of extending it into a longer fic.
The large bath was full almost to the brim with luxuriously hot water scented with oils and rose petals. The woman closed her eyes as she floated in it, allowing the warmth to saturate her body, relaxing her muscles and removing some of the tension of the last few weeks. Today was all that mattered now. She allowed herself a few minutes of perfect meditation in the fragrant water, letting all thoughts trickle slowly away, but roused herself before her skin began to wrinkle and got out of the large round bathtub. She dried herself thoroughly with soft towels and lavender powder and then rubbed the ointments and creams she had been given into her skin until it gleamed. If only it were not so pale, she thought to herself. Next she put on her sheer gown and began to work on her face, staring down the big-eyed brunette reflected in the mirror. It had taken her months to master this simple task of painting her face, not that she thought it made her look much different, but she had been drilled about its importance; it was all part of the ritual. Her make up, like her bath, was an integral element to the sacred rite that she was entering into. She must be absolutely perfect, nothing could be overlooked in her physical or mental preparation.
Finally Sara took a deep breath and inspected her work in the mirror. The powders and ointments she had applied with a practised hand accentuated her eyes and lips, and made her skin shimmer appealingly. The long hours of preparation had somehow culminated in this trembling work of art reflected back to her in the glass. Yet the nervous worm that had writhed in her belly awoke once more, without distraction now that the temporary distraction of her beautification ritual was finished. Tonight was the night. Finally Sara had finished the years of waiting and training and she would at last become what every woman dreamed of; one of the haianhara , the blessed women, the sacred partners.
Sara scrutinised herself more closely in the mirror. It would not do for the smallest detail to be missed, tonight of all nights. She still looked a little pale, not that she could help that with her colouring and the restless night she had had, wondering what her sirahan would be like. She allowed her thoughts to wander as she touched up the bronze on her skin one last time. Perhaps he would be tall, or maybe broad, she hoped he would be fairly young, but he may be very old. It was not certain that she would know him from among her uncle, the High Controller's Council men, but it was highly probable that it was one of those wheezing, leering old men. Still, Sara daydreamed of a foreign captain who would take her breath away. She knew that some partners were harsh, pushing their haianha to her very limits, but Sara longed for a kind man who would see her value as a true partner in mind and body. Only the highest of officials from the City and abroad were invited to share in the blessed union. More than just marriage, sacred partnership was the pairing of perfectly trained, high class women with the most powerful, successful men of the realm, thus ensuring the continued success of their endeavours as well as their blood line. Sara fervently hoped that her union would embody the very essence of sacred partnership.
With a final glance at her reflection, Sara entered the living area. She nervously smoothed her ceremonial shift that was sheer enough to be virtually transparent and then sat down to wait. The quarters that they had been given were large, which meant her sirahan was highly respected, probably one of the High Controller's inner circle. The immense population of the City meant that living space was strictly regulated, with the size of a man's quarters directly corresponding to his wealth and power. Whoever he was, Sara was sure that her sirahan must be very important to her uncle.
Gil Grissom followed the servant to what would be his quarters for the next six major moon cycles. He tried not to let his irritation rise again; he had only just managed to hold his peace when King Telson started lecturing him about his good fortune to be granted his favour. King Telson indeed. Gil doubted the man even knew what the archaic term meant, High Controller or no. He could not help but be irked by this forced voyage away from his homelands to present himself to a balding man with nothing more than a written mandate from the Overseer commanding that he be granted food and lodging befitting an Official. The possibility that Gil was not an Official per se had evidently not crossed the High Controller's mind. The man had spoken to him like most people from the City did, as if he was slow, savage and untrustworthy. He supposed it was to be expected; he was an outlander after all. Gil normally would not have cared two cents what a man like Telson thought of him, but being sent to the Controller cap in hand to negotiate an alliance made him feel his position keenly. Telson was not a man to understand humility and dignity, and Gil was decidedly not looking forward to ingratiating himself to him.
Gil followed as the servant rounded yet another corner. He ruefully thought that he would never get used to an entire city being indoors. It just felt wrong. How long had it been since he had been home, on the long plains of his birth planet? He shook his head lightly. There was no point thinking of such things. Gil made a deliberate effort to concentrate his thoughts. His mind ran through his mission once more. He was to gain the High Controller's trust at all costs, offering an exclusive alliance with the Outlands unlike anything previously recorded. In order to do this he was to enter into some kind of secret society that they had here; the sacred union or some such nonsense, and find out anything that might be used to shift the City's power from within. After this mission, he would have to have some harsh words with Brass about the sparsity of the background information he had given him. Thus far it had been more of a hindrance than a help. He was too old to be sent half way around the galaxy on a moment's notice. Why did people always assume that he was flexible because he had no family? Of course the Overseer had claimed that there was no one of his calibre to take on this vital mission. Gil would have infinitely preferred to have been left to his own devices in his lab, but his career had trumped his passion for science. Besides, he had the Overseer's word that this was the last time. After this was over, Gil would be allowed to retire from service as a real Official and spend all the time he liked in his lab. Then again, he had heard that before.
The servant stopped suddenly at a door that seemed identical to the hundreds they had passed. There was no number or distinguishing feature at all and Gil wondered how he would ever remember how to get back there on his own. The servant gestured to the band around Gil's wrist and then to a tiny black rectangle on the door. Evidently this servant had not been programmed to speak. Gil thanked the man anyway out of habit and used the band around his wrist to open the door to his new home, glad at least to be able to rest his weary body in a real bed after weeks of stellar travel. The door opened silently and he walked inside.
Telson reclined on his front, enjoying a full body massage from a suitably programmed servant after a tough day, and feeling extremely proud of himself all in all. He did not yet know this outlander's mission among them, but Telson's gut told him that he was not to be trusted. Years of fighting his way to the top had taught him to trust his instincts, and this proposed alliance was no different. Telson revelled in his own ingenuity. The sacred union that he had arranged would put a member of his own kin in the outlander's bed, where all secrets are spilt, and in his head, giving him Telson's own counsel through full red lips. No man could resist that. So much the better that it was Sara, his troublesome niece. This outlander, practically a savage, would break her in nicely and get rid of the lingering look of rebellion in those brown eyes. Sara would soon learn to respect her uncle after sharing her bed with an uncultured brute of a foreigner. If he had not been her relation, Telson would have liked to have done the breaking in himself. There was nothing quite so satisfying as dominating a woman full of spirit like Sara, breaking her will and showing her who was in charge. Yes, he would have loved to slap that smirk right off her face, to have felt her struggle against him as he took what could not be returned. Such a shame she was so valuable to him intact. This solution, however, was the next best thing. He had heard that outland men were ruthless with their needs. Telson chuckled to himself. It was not for nothing that he was High Controller. Long ago he had learnt to weave a tangled web with friend and foe alike until nobody was entirely sure who's side they were on, and usually they were on both. This ensured that the right kind of information inevitably found its way to his ears. He would use these same skills to negotiate this new alliance with the Outlands.
The servant was programmed to perfection, and Telson moaned in pleasure as the final kinks in his lower back were worked out. He started to become aroused, and his thoughts turned to his night's entertainment. He would never dream of lowering himself to using a servant to feed his carnal appetites, although he had heard they could be programmed to do some unspeakable things. For Telson, it had to be one hundred per cent human, only the best would do. He liked to see the fear, the humiliation and the submission on their face as he dominated them. Reaching for the nearest pad, Telson ran a quick search to choose some girls. His haianha was well into her middle years now, a fact that numerous surgeries could no longer hide. True, she was his work of art when it came to submission, but what had been appealing about her had been the long years it had taken to break her. Now she was nothing to him. Typing in an age limit half of his own, he ran his finger slowly down the screen. The servant continued to rub his back as Telson scrolled idly through the options, a man at the zenith of his illustrious career.
Author: Fromgrissom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sara is a member of the most powerful family on the planet, but when Gil Grissom comes from the Outlands on the far reaches of the galaxy to negotiate peace with her uncle, suspicions grow and plots are created that will entwine their fates further than either would imagine.
A/N: Please be gentle with this fic! Seriously, it's the first time I've tried to do anything in this genre and any comments or advice would be very welcome. At the moment it's a stand-alone, but I'm thinking of extending it into a longer fic.
The large bath was full almost to the brim with luxuriously hot water scented with oils and rose petals. The woman closed her eyes as she floated in it, allowing the warmth to saturate her body, relaxing her muscles and removing some of the tension of the last few weeks. Today was all that mattered now. She allowed herself a few minutes of perfect meditation in the fragrant water, letting all thoughts trickle slowly away, but roused herself before her skin began to wrinkle and got out of the large round bathtub. She dried herself thoroughly with soft towels and lavender powder and then rubbed the ointments and creams she had been given into her skin until it gleamed. If only it were not so pale, she thought to herself. Next she put on her sheer gown and began to work on her face, staring down the big-eyed brunette reflected in the mirror. It had taken her months to master this simple task of painting her face, not that she thought it made her look much different, but she had been drilled about its importance; it was all part of the ritual. Her make up, like her bath, was an integral element to the sacred rite that she was entering into. She must be absolutely perfect, nothing could be overlooked in her physical or mental preparation.
Finally Sara took a deep breath and inspected her work in the mirror. The powders and ointments she had applied with a practised hand accentuated her eyes and lips, and made her skin shimmer appealingly. The long hours of preparation had somehow culminated in this trembling work of art reflected back to her in the glass. Yet the nervous worm that had writhed in her belly awoke once more, without distraction now that the temporary distraction of her beautification ritual was finished. Tonight was the night. Finally Sara had finished the years of waiting and training and she would at last become what every woman dreamed of; one of the haianhara , the blessed women, the sacred partners.
Sara scrutinised herself more closely in the mirror. It would not do for the smallest detail to be missed, tonight of all nights. She still looked a little pale, not that she could help that with her colouring and the restless night she had had, wondering what her sirahan would be like. She allowed her thoughts to wander as she touched up the bronze on her skin one last time. Perhaps he would be tall, or maybe broad, she hoped he would be fairly young, but he may be very old. It was not certain that she would know him from among her uncle, the High Controller's Council men, but it was highly probable that it was one of those wheezing, leering old men. Still, Sara daydreamed of a foreign captain who would take her breath away. She knew that some partners were harsh, pushing their haianha to her very limits, but Sara longed for a kind man who would see her value as a true partner in mind and body. Only the highest of officials from the City and abroad were invited to share in the blessed union. More than just marriage, sacred partnership was the pairing of perfectly trained, high class women with the most powerful, successful men of the realm, thus ensuring the continued success of their endeavours as well as their blood line. Sara fervently hoped that her union would embody the very essence of sacred partnership.
With a final glance at her reflection, Sara entered the living area. She nervously smoothed her ceremonial shift that was sheer enough to be virtually transparent and then sat down to wait. The quarters that they had been given were large, which meant her sirahan was highly respected, probably one of the High Controller's inner circle. The immense population of the City meant that living space was strictly regulated, with the size of a man's quarters directly corresponding to his wealth and power. Whoever he was, Sara was sure that her sirahan must be very important to her uncle.
Gil Grissom followed the servant to what would be his quarters for the next six major moon cycles. He tried not to let his irritation rise again; he had only just managed to hold his peace when King Telson started lecturing him about his good fortune to be granted his favour. King Telson indeed. Gil doubted the man even knew what the archaic term meant, High Controller or no. He could not help but be irked by this forced voyage away from his homelands to present himself to a balding man with nothing more than a written mandate from the Overseer commanding that he be granted food and lodging befitting an Official. The possibility that Gil was not an Official per se had evidently not crossed the High Controller's mind. The man had spoken to him like most people from the City did, as if he was slow, savage and untrustworthy. He supposed it was to be expected; he was an outlander after all. Gil normally would not have cared two cents what a man like Telson thought of him, but being sent to the Controller cap in hand to negotiate an alliance made him feel his position keenly. Telson was not a man to understand humility and dignity, and Gil was decidedly not looking forward to ingratiating himself to him.
Gil followed as the servant rounded yet another corner. He ruefully thought that he would never get used to an entire city being indoors. It just felt wrong. How long had it been since he had been home, on the long plains of his birth planet? He shook his head lightly. There was no point thinking of such things. Gil made a deliberate effort to concentrate his thoughts. His mind ran through his mission once more. He was to gain the High Controller's trust at all costs, offering an exclusive alliance with the Outlands unlike anything previously recorded. In order to do this he was to enter into some kind of secret society that they had here; the sacred union or some such nonsense, and find out anything that might be used to shift the City's power from within. After this mission, he would have to have some harsh words with Brass about the sparsity of the background information he had given him. Thus far it had been more of a hindrance than a help. He was too old to be sent half way around the galaxy on a moment's notice. Why did people always assume that he was flexible because he had no family? Of course the Overseer had claimed that there was no one of his calibre to take on this vital mission. Gil would have infinitely preferred to have been left to his own devices in his lab, but his career had trumped his passion for science. Besides, he had the Overseer's word that this was the last time. After this was over, Gil would be allowed to retire from service as a real Official and spend all the time he liked in his lab. Then again, he had heard that before.
The servant stopped suddenly at a door that seemed identical to the hundreds they had passed. There was no number or distinguishing feature at all and Gil wondered how he would ever remember how to get back there on his own. The servant gestured to the band around Gil's wrist and then to a tiny black rectangle on the door. Evidently this servant had not been programmed to speak. Gil thanked the man anyway out of habit and used the band around his wrist to open the door to his new home, glad at least to be able to rest his weary body in a real bed after weeks of stellar travel. The door opened silently and he walked inside.
Telson reclined on his front, enjoying a full body massage from a suitably programmed servant after a tough day, and feeling extremely proud of himself all in all. He did not yet know this outlander's mission among them, but Telson's gut told him that he was not to be trusted. Years of fighting his way to the top had taught him to trust his instincts, and this proposed alliance was no different. Telson revelled in his own ingenuity. The sacred union that he had arranged would put a member of his own kin in the outlander's bed, where all secrets are spilt, and in his head, giving him Telson's own counsel through full red lips. No man could resist that. So much the better that it was Sara, his troublesome niece. This outlander, practically a savage, would break her in nicely and get rid of the lingering look of rebellion in those brown eyes. Sara would soon learn to respect her uncle after sharing her bed with an uncultured brute of a foreigner. If he had not been her relation, Telson would have liked to have done the breaking in himself. There was nothing quite so satisfying as dominating a woman full of spirit like Sara, breaking her will and showing her who was in charge. Yes, he would have loved to slap that smirk right off her face, to have felt her struggle against him as he took what could not be returned. Such a shame she was so valuable to him intact. This solution, however, was the next best thing. He had heard that outland men were ruthless with their needs. Telson chuckled to himself. It was not for nothing that he was High Controller. Long ago he had learnt to weave a tangled web with friend and foe alike until nobody was entirely sure who's side they were on, and usually they were on both. This ensured that the right kind of information inevitably found its way to his ears. He would use these same skills to negotiate this new alliance with the Outlands.
The servant was programmed to perfection, and Telson moaned in pleasure as the final kinks in his lower back were worked out. He started to become aroused, and his thoughts turned to his night's entertainment. He would never dream of lowering himself to using a servant to feed his carnal appetites, although he had heard they could be programmed to do some unspeakable things. For Telson, it had to be one hundred per cent human, only the best would do. He liked to see the fear, the humiliation and the submission on their face as he dominated them. Reaching for the nearest pad, Telson ran a quick search to choose some girls. His haianha was well into her middle years now, a fact that numerous surgeries could no longer hide. True, she was his work of art when it came to submission, but what had been appealing about her had been the long years it had taken to break her. Now she was nothing to him. Typing in an age limit half of his own, he ran his finger slowly down the screen. The servant continued to rub his back as Telson scrolled idly through the options, a man at the zenith of his illustrious career.