A/N: Here I propose the possible reason why we see Councilor Tevos adhering to Aria's requests so readily, and why they regarded each other with such familiarity in that scene on the Citadel in ME3. Year is approximately 2030 CE, give or take a few years (Aria seized control of Omega about 1980 CE).

Characters Involved: Many asari characters who were, or probably were, alive in 2030 such as Benezia, Aethyta, Irissa, Tela Vasir, Liselle, Shiala, etc.

Pairings: Eventual Aria/Tevos and few Benezia/Aethyta moments.

Rating: M for violence, drugs, sex, and language.

UPDATE: 7 August 2015: this fic has undergone edits to bring it closer (emphasis on closer; there's only so much that can be done to this old thing without doing a complete re-write) to the standards and quality of its sequel. A few inconsistencies and other issues were also fixed. Changes occurred in every chapter.

CONFIDENTIALITY

[ Chapter 1: The Dim, the New ]

A temperate breeze swept across the vista overlooking a radiant Thessian sea mottled with water-worn boulders rising from its shallow tides. The towering rocks stood out far, like monoliths, until the ocean's depths and the clear horizon swallowed them in the distance. At the cliff's edge, abundant sunlight shone upon them, and its rays were mild and welcomed by the multi-species assembly who looked on in a respectful silence as a white-clad body was gently lowered onto a bed of flowers that covered the top of a slab of pristine marble cut to perfectly match the dimensions of the matriarch it cradled. The whiteness that enveloped the lifeless asari was harsh to eye; supposedly conveying the energy of the entire universe—a flash of light, a rush of nothingness, and the birth of the variation of color. White was the beginning, but also the end. White was the color of annihilation.

"I hope you're ready."

Tevos refrained from averting her gaze away acknowledge the hiss that was uttered from the lips of the asari beside her. Instead, she held her head at a slight cant in her direction to indicate she was listening nonetheless. Her eyes remained trained on the body of the deceased matriarch as more words reached her.

"I was certain she had at least a few more decades in her old bones." Irissa said to her in dry humor. "It must be scary once you hit your thousands, not knowing whether a headache is a just a headache or the first sign that your nervous system is beginning a rapid disintegration. She probably brought it upon herself, you know. Too much glaring, not enough smiling."

She hushed her. "Be kind, Irissa."

Before them, presiding over the body of the departed councilor, an asari priest was issuing a prayer. Matriarch Idras had been a powerful figure. She had been elected and reelected as the asari councilor for four full terms, spanning the length of almost four centuries, and two of which Tevos had spent working beneath her authority as a fellow diplomat, spending most of her years advocating for her. Though sharp-tongued and somewhat choleric during her twilight years, Idras had always been dependable to a fault. When she promised something, all knew of her infallible intentions to carry it out. But her adamancy did not come without negative feedback from her people, a generally more lenient sort by nature. As time went on, her unpopularity with the matriarchs grew, but she had never faltered in a way that would allow them any justifiable grounds on which they could ever hope to replace her with those callow candidates who ran against her. Of course, there still resided a certain, small demographic of asari (Matriarch Aethyta came to Tevos's mind) who adored Idras and were greatly troubled by her passing, but mainly because it meant that someone of a less bold and abrasive disposition would certainly take her place, as the asari people were not exactly known to be so particularly tenacious. Idras was, affectionately said, an anomaly.

Yes, it had been very difficult to work with her at times, Tevos thought as the priest's mystic prayers floated through her head, but she was still saddened at the passing of the councilor. Over the years she had been exposed to enough passive aggression to spawn countless emotional complexes, but Tevos had persevered through all the unpleasant days to see those instances when all their hard work and angst paid off in the form of some sort of good change happening in their government, such as the recent passing of a new law which funded more efficient record keeping of asari with different-species bondmates and their children. On that day, Tevos fondly recalled, Idras was nothing but smiles and good will, just as everyone else soon became in that wing of the Embassies.

Following the asari councilor's death, the matriarchs had immediately prescribed an election that produced a replacement within the short span of a few days. Tevos had been elected in a flattering landslide, as the matriarchs seemed to widely agree with her reasonable approaches to problems, her patience, and her caution. And when the matriarchs of Thessia favored an individual, it was expected for the masses to follow suit. She had been initially surprised by the turnout, as she was on average a century or two younger than the other candidates and had anticipated that the matriarchs would disproportionately value age over many other factors, as they often had in the past. Apparently she had done remarkable work, and fashioned for herself an equally compelling presence on the political stage, to have garnered so much support from them.

She was at the very top now. Hundreds of years focused on her education and political career were now funneling into the ensuing days. It was daunting, but she was experienced and completely prepared. Irissa, on the other hand, seemed to have her doubts about that.

"The other two councilors are going to treat you horribly for the first week or so," said Irissa, evidently unable to contain her musings until a more appropriate time. "They're still going to regard you as that woman who did extraneous paperwork for Idras while also serving as her verbal punching bag. You'll have to force yourself onto them. Don't let them walk all over Councilor Tevos. I know you're more clever than them both combined and you're going to outlive them five times over."

"I see you're already settling into your new position. But I wasn't aware that it also entailed advisory duties." Tevos appreciated her concern, but also felt that Irissa was underestimating her.

"Oh, it doesn't. Not officially. But I'm still your friend, and I think it would only be proper of me to make sure you're prepared for the impending—ah, what's the diplomatic term I'm looking for? Shit storm."

Tevos reflexively smiled. Irissa was certainly Idras's niece; fiery and full of swears in private, and instantly able to adopt a cold, cunning discipline the moment they stepped in front of a camera. The amusing reason why she wasn't shedding any tears for her aunt—or even keeping quiet during the funeral—was a strange phenomenon Tevos understood to be based upon a morbid joke involving 'waiting for Idras to finally die so her stress levels could decrease'. It was sad to see Idras go, but she really had, proverbially, gone to somewhere more peaceful, and that was nothing to mourn over. No longer would Idras have to rave and wear her nerves thin over the state of her people and their relations.

"They're going to expect a lot from you," Irissa pressed her.

"I know."

"Hopefully nothing too unmanageable will happen for a while. You know, until you've at least gotten the hang of things."

"Yes," Tevos agreed absently. "Hopefully not."

They looked on as the final prayers were recited. The priest spoke of eternity; the endless cycles of energy and the universe's consciousness flowing back into itself throughout conceivable time. The departing of Matriarch Idras was only in one's perceived reality, she said, and in the physical realm she was still entwined with the cosmos and would be forever. On the matriarch's lifeless body, the silk hems of the pearly gown rippled in another breeze, and a few petals were lost from the flowers spilling out from beneath her.

:::

In a dilapidated apartment brooding over the metal cityscape suspended in a perpetual, dim, red aura which eerily reflected the blood and violence that engulfed the denizens below, a congregation of criminal lords were solemnly gathering onto a large curved sofa in the main sitting area. Guns were shuffled about in the arms of guards standing idly at the entrance as the last person on their list entered the room and took their seat.

Their monarch stood at the large window with arms folded over her chest. She was watching rising tendrils of factory smoke and the flickering skycars navigating the hostile labyrinth below. The floor in the apartment smelled faintly of cleaning products, and there was a large dark stain in the cheap carpeting a few meters away near the entrance to the abandoned bedroom. All around them were bits of evidence alluding to how many times this residence had been repurposed and cleansed, and to just what sort of events had transpired within its walls. It might have also been posed a considerable challenge to surmise just how many of these discreet locations Aria owned, since Afterlife was not always the most ideal setting for the conducting of dire business agreements.

For a while, no one spoke. Instead they watched her patiently, feeling her unspoken demand for silence until she—and only she—decided to break it. Some cast each other leers of scrutiny as they waited. Others tapped their feet, but took great care to keep the sound hushed. Their leader was thinking deeply, that much was evident. It was impossible to discern what was passing through her mind, but the stillness she forced upon their environment was as foreboding as a black storm rumbling in a slow approach.

At last, the commanding voice of Aria T'Loak the air. "Well, now that everyone's settled in nicely, we can begin the final coordination of this undertaking." She turned around to watch severity creep into their features. "Today was the funeral of the former asari councilor, Matriarch Idras. Tomorrow, her successor takes her place in the Council. She was an underling of Idras, but she's slow to act, noncombative." She smiled, delivering the next quality with amused derision. "A peacemaker."

Aria strode into their midst and turned to an asari in yellow armor, decorated profusely with insignia of rank. "Jona Sederis will provide the primary escorts for this operation. I want Eclipse mercenaries aboard the batarian cargo ships, and fighters flanking them. If you meet any Council opposition, under no circumstance will you fire. I don't want to start a fucking war. That's exactly what we want to avoid. Instead, flee, evade them. If you absolutely have to surrender, wipe all records."

"That's not much fun," Jona Sederis quipped with a smile. "But we will comply with the terms."

"Once you leave Terminus space," Aria said to the batarian pirate general Ralot Dar'nerah, who lowered his cigar to pay close attention, "you will transfer the cargo to the commercial ships waiting for you at the specified coordinates in the Attican Traverse. Once the transfer has been completed, I want you to immediately retreat back into Terminus space. Do not linger in Attican territory any longer than you need to, as you will draw attention and possibly compromise our cover."

He gave a nod. "It will be done."

"After the ships dock, I want the operatives to immediately transport the cargo to the houses. From there I want wide distribution. I want the sales to fan out in a way that would make our goods as untraceable as possible to buy us time." Aria sat down in an empty space on the couch, laying an arm along its back and crossed one leg over the other. Her eyes were fierce in the dim light. "I expect daily progress reports. I want to know exactly how much is leaving Omega and how much is arriving at the destinations. I want to knowexactly how many ships are following which routes, and the names of the ships in specificity. If any major incidents occur, you will inform me or risk losing your share in the profits. At the end of this week, we make the necessary calculations and the first payments will be distributed. After that, payments will come monthly, standard time. In a few hours I will forward each of you very detailed descriptions of how I want this orchestrated. Are there any questions or misunderstandings at this point?"

A hulking, massive krogan shifted in his seat. "I just have one question," he grumbled in his deep voice. "What happens when the Council starts catching on to what we're doing? When they realize it's all coming from us?"

Omega's Queen grew smug at the query and responded with great self-pride, "My plan extensively covers that. When the Council finds out, which they inevitably will, I'll negotiate with them. You don't need to worry about that at all."

"But are we that confident that we won't end up blown to pieces? Our alliances are formidable, but Council space has immense fleets at their disposal."

Aria turned to another asari dressed in light armor somewhat reminiscent of commando leathers, but reinforced with practical sections of plating that did not overly restrict movement. She frowned at her right-hand lieutenant.

"I'm not challenging the plan," Amira clarified when she saw hostility surfacing in her. "But I am concerned. We are simply not imposing enough to demand negotiations from the matriarchs or the Council. I expect them to laugh at us, in complete honesty."

The crime lord rose and walked back to the window to gaze out at her emerging empire. After a pause, she asked her a question. "Would you ever laugh at someone pointing a gun at your face?"

"Probably not. But if I have the bigger or faster gun, I might hazard a jeer."

"But would you be willing to take that chance if you were a civilian, and the other was an experienced murderer?"

"...I suppose I wouldn't. I'd just be sure to shoot first if it came to that."

"There," Aria said, turning around and pointing at her with a victorious smirk. "There is the reason why we now have the upper hand. Idras would have shot first, probably triggering a war by doing so. And everyone knows that we wouldn't have won. That old bitch would have sent us home with our asses on fire in the end." She said this with great disdain while returning her ambitious eyes to the burning horizon of Omega. "But this time, we've got a councilor who likes to talk about things first. She doesn't like to fight. It's all over her dossier. While Idras probably would've sent her people into warships to come after us, consequently risking and extinguishing many of their lives, Councilor Tevoswould rather take the route that results in the least amount of casualties. Not to mention the fact that she's only just becoming councilor. If we pressure her and scare her enough, she might crack more easily and give us even more leeway than what we initially anticipate to receive. That is why we are doing this now. We are rushing in to fill the power vacuum that Matriarch Idras left behind. Omega is the future Citadel of the galaxy, and this is the beginning of that era. Just keep your heads, do as I say, and we will reach that status. You'll all come home fucking rich."

There was a murmur of understanding and consent.

"I like it," declared Ganar Wrang, voicing their collective thoughts. "Start pumping up their territories with drugs and reap everything we can, get out of there, let our capable and well-spoken Aria T'Loak bail us out of trouble, and go home with our pockets full of credits with some more face for Omega to boot. Not as messy as I usually like, but simple, effective, and extremely profitable for us."

"It really is," Aria agreed with a tiny, prideful tilt of her chin as she peered at them from over her shoulder. "And once the results of the negotiations are in place, I can guarantee you future trading avenues into their territories. I am that confident that we will all get what we want."

"It's a big gamble," said Ralot. He clung to some skepticism. "But you've taken over Omega quite gracefully. You've extensively proven yourself to be far more articulate than 'Patriarch' ever was. The economy around here has been booming; the last few decades have been some of the best recorded in history. And so… I fully commit to this plan. The gains to be made are undeniable." He extinguished his cigarette and leaned forward. "Let's get this thing going."

Amira analyzed the congregation of powerful crime lords and saw the eagerness and greed glistening in their eyes. It really was an excellent plan, the more she thought about it. Immigrating to Omega to work under Aria was one of the best decisions the mercenary had ever made, she realized. She had arrived on the unfriendly station mere years following Aria's rise to power, and had immediately recognized the potential in her to become a leader like Omega had never seen before. Aria T'Loak was systematic, intelligent, and charismatic. Previous followers of Patriarch had abandoned him in droves just to have the privilege of calling her their Queen. It almost seemed like the gods of plots, clandestine fortune, and pure might had singled her out and sent her to this ominous station to usurp its throne, as if it were her rite of destiny. If anyone could conduct a successful operation into Council territory and get away with it without a dent in their wallets (or in their population), it would be Aria T'Loak.

"Dig your claws deep into them," Aria said quietly, her voice coated in conquest. "And don't let go. Make them yield to our agenda. Make them accommodate our advances. We are Omega, and we will be sated."

The lieutenant dutifully nodded to the Pirate Queen, absorbing her words as if they were irrefutable doctrine.