Dr.[REDACTED]

And then you saw him.

The faint gleam of metal caught the sliver of light from the narrow window of your cell. His armor.

Your pulse spiked, your skin prickling.

Your face feeling hotter without you noticing.

The closer you got, the more detail emerged. The deep red of his skin beneath the plates, the sheer mass of him leaning against the wall, arms folded as if carved from stone.

But something was wrong. You felt it immediately. The air itself seemed heavy with it. Tension. Unbearable tension that pushed against your throat.

His name sat bitter on your tongue. You had repeated it to yourself over and over since you learned it, terrified you’d forget. Tarr’kon. The syllables haunted you, demanded to be spoken.

But you didn’t dare. Not now. Enough of this dangerous game of pushing and pulling. You wouldn’t submit, wouldn’t crawl, but you could still offer a piece of respect to the yautja who had, more than once, saved you.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Your voice was soft, hesitant.

He didn’t move. His mask tilted down toward the ground, hiding his face, his body rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. As if he had just been running—or having a nightmare.

The unease crawling through your chest twisted into something sharper. Against your better judgment, your hand reached out. Fingers brushed the cool metal plates of his arm-

He moved like lightning.

His massive hand clamped your wrist, crushing down with a strength that nearly snapped the bone. Pain lanced white-hot up your arm and you cried out, nails raking across his reptilian skin in desperation.

And then—just as suddenly—he released you.

You staggered back, clutching your throbbing wrist to your chest. He looked around, his dreadlocks swaying, as if disoriented—lost, even.

“What… the hell?” you hissed, your voice cracking between fear and fury. “What are you doing here?”

You wanted to scream at him, rage at him, but the words crawled out weaker, strangled by the memory of how easily he had nearly broken you.

He straightened, towering over you, his armor groaning softly with the motion.

And still, you didn’t retreat. You stood your ground, chin tilted high, even as your knees threatened to buckle.

“You damn creep,” you spat, voice laced with venom to cover your fear. “What the fuck do you want, sneaking into my cell, watching me sleep?”

If he had come to break you, you would fight. Even if it killed you.

He came closer, a living shadow blotting out the faint light of your prison. You glared up at the glowing red eyes of his mask, your defiance loud against his steps.

“If you’re here to kill me, then just do it,” you whispered, almost dismissive, as if daring him.

His breath shuddered above you, heavy, uneven, something raw and primal in the sound that had your skin crawling again. His shoulders were tight, his chest heaving, but he didn’t strike. Didn’t touch you.

It was like a staring contest that stretched into eternity.

Your instincts screamed at you to provoke him, to push harder, but something stopped you. Something in the tremor of his voice when he finally spoke.

“Don’t you fucking bare your teeth at me.”

The guttural words vibrated through the air, sharp but not cruel. Not cold.

Frustrated. Restrained.

You froze, studying him. This wasn’t the same mocking, detached voice that toyed with you before. It wasn’t the wrath that shattered guards like insects.

This was different. And the tension around him felt… dangerous in a new way. Like heat bleeding through cold metal.

You crossed your arms, masking the conflict in your chest with a poker face. “What do you want?”

He said nothing. Just breathed, as if holding something back.

“We can do this all night,” you pressed, lifting your chin. “Are you going to speak, or should I go back to sleep?”

That finally broke him.

He stepped back. Slowly. Turned and walked out.

But not before you saw it.

Your eyes widened, heart twisting in shock. His back—once unscarred—was carved with fresh wounds. Bright green slashes across crimson skin, deep and vicious.

Whip lashes.

The wall behind where he had stood bore the same stains of his blood.

Only one being had the power to do that to him.

The King.

You wanted to stop him. To demand answers. To ask why the king’s right hand had been whipped like a common criminal. But the words never made it past your throat. They clogged there, burning, as your hands gripped the cold bars of your cell.

You could only watch.

He walked out with heavy steps, the thud of the door closing behind him echoing in your chest. The lock clicked, sealing you inside and sealing him out.

You were left hanging. Blood boiled in your veins, your thoughts clawing at each other. Your head felt heavy, too heavy to hold upright. You sank onto the cot before your knees gave out.

What is going on?

How could the King punish him?

And what the hell did he want from you tonight?

His intentions had never been clear, but now they were a mess of contradictions. Pain, anger, something else buried beneath. It was almost worse than if he had struck you.

You kept staring at the door, your wrist throbbing in waves that only grew sharper as the hours passed. Sleep was impossible once again. You weren’t sure if it was the pain in your bones or the unease in your chest that kept you awake.

You could fight off a guard or two, maybe. But him? Not Tarr’kon. He had shown you with a single squeeze that he could shatter you like glass. And yet, he had warned you. Not to bare your teeth. Not to push. As though restraint cost him something.

It made no sense. None of it did.

The hiss of the door jolted you upright.

Not him.

K’rethya.

You stayed seated, clutching your wrist as she stepped in. She motioned for you to rise, her movements clipped, efficient. You obeyed without protest, following her through the metal corridors until the scent of herbs and steel told you where you were headed. An infirmary.

You sat where she pointed. Silent. Empty.

She bound your wrist with careful hands, the rough cloth pulled tight enough to steady the ache.

“How did you know?” Your voice was flat, worn thin by sleeplessness. You kept your eyes on her hands instead of her face.

“He sent me.”

A bitter scoff slipped from you before you could stop it. “Did he really?” You shook your head, half in disbelief, half in exhaustion.

The ultimate mind game. That’s what it had to be. He broke you down, rattled you, only to send help after. Confusion was worse than cruelty. At least cruelty you could understand.

But this?

“The King,” you murmured, hesitating. “Did he… whip him?”

The image of green blood staining crimson skin crushed your mind.

K’rethya only nodded, finishing the knot on your wrist.

“Why?” The word slipped out, barely. You weren’t even sure you wanted the answer.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she said, matter-of-fact.

And she was right.

You nodded, letting it go and looked down at your bandaged wrist. “Thank you,” you said, genuine despite everything.

Her gentleness was disarming. Despite her size, despite the guttural roughness of her voice, there was something steady in her presence, something almost… humane.

She gave a single nod and gestured toward the door.

You stood, waiting as she followed you back to your cell. You entered without hesitation.

“The King will soon ask for you. Don’t fight back,” she said, voice firm but not unkind, before disappearing into the corridor.

You stared after her.

Yeah. Good luck with that.

Your blood ran hot, pulsing with anger and unease. The thought of the King punishing Tarr’kon so mercilessly made your stomach twist and your chest tighten. You could almost make sense of him lashing out at you, you were the outsider, the human. But Tarr’kon? The only Yautja who had lifted a hand for you, who had done what no one else dared? And the King had rewarded him with pain.

It was twisted. Cruel for the sake of cruelty.

This King wasn’t just harsh, he was undeserving of loyalty. He punished strength, crushed defiance, and demanded worship when he deserved none.

If the King summoned you, if he truly thought you would bend, then you wouldn’t let him forget your first night in his chambers.