Please have mercy

Pacifist

"I make you cry a lot."

"It's okay... They're just tears."

She brushed the tears away from her cheek with the side of her palm, trying to calm herself as he ran his hand up and down her back, soothing her even if she was crying by his fault. She had gotten used to the touches, had gotten habituated to his constant need to have her near him as soon as they were alone.

Those instances didn't stress her anymore, she had even come to appreciate them, feeling him come back to his quarters in the middle of the night, shedding his clothes and dragging her body from the side of the bed to the middle where he could wrap his arms around her body and press his legs between hers, causing her nightgown to rise and bunch around her hips.

He often pressed his lips to her back where the base of her neck met her spine, the same place he always kissed when he took her from the back, wrapping his hand around her throat as he pushed her hair to the side.

Although he felt apologetic, he had never apologized openly about anything he had done, even if it caused her much distress and evidently threw her in a vicious cycle of worry her body decided to respond to on its own with what it had been accustomed to.

There was a body on the floor, dead and growing cold, someone she didn't know, a young man who had been tasked to deliver bad news and to his demise had gotten his neck sliced by the supreme leader's lightsaber.

She had been in the room, simply coming in to bring him some tea she had to force Ushar to track down because he had skipped both last night and this morning's meal, she had started getting overly considerate of his health beyond her control, feeling the desire to try and take care of him even if he didn't need her to, unconsciously worrying for his well-being.

She had come in at a bad time, it had been her mistake. She only heard the man stutter the end of his statement before seeing a flash of red and the blood splatter as his body hit the ground, the calcified cut already clotting. Not knowing what else to do to announce her presence at such an opportunity timing, coming up from behind him, she had walked up slowly, touching his arm lightly to try and stop him from desecrating the body even more, not wanting him to take out his rage on an already dead boy.

He must not have understood that it was her, his arm tensing under her finger holding the saucer and the cup of tea further in her other hand. She didn't even get a second to blink before she found herself reeling back after the leather of his gloves connected with the side of her face. In shock, she had fallen back, stumbling over from the force of the blow, dropping the fragile cup of tea that shattered as soon as it had hit the ground, spilling everywhere on the shiny impeccable floor.

He had crouched in front of her after piecing together what had happened and the actions he had done, wanting to haul her back up, but in fear, she had inched away until her back hit the wall, her arms shooting around her head to protect her from a second hit.

It had been so long since he had last harmed her physically in the sort, she had almost forgotten the feeling of it, the shame that crawled down her spine and the stinging of her skin.

She knew he would have never used the lightsaber on her even if had often used it as a threat, and she had stopped fearing that he would kill her. She saw how he had become attached to her as much as she had for entirely different reasons, he was now addicted to receiving her attention constantly. She sought his approval and his reassurance, wanting to feel rewarded for giving him affection.

Involuntarily, she had started to cry, stopping quickly after realizing how pitiful it had made her appearance, his comment bringing forth how horrible and fragile she felt every time she teared up, turning her gaze to the broken cup and the small plate that had spread over the ground, the brazing hot tea burning the skin of her hands and wetting a part of her dress where the liquid had splattered.