Author's Note: This fanfic contains spoilers for the campaigns of TOR, in fact this chapter alone has spoilers for two flashpoints, the Sith W. and Jedi K. campaigns. Also my apologies if non PC canon characters are a touch OOC.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars franchise, The Old Republic or any associated media, nor am I profiting from this fic.

Life was if not good, then better than tolerable for the former Sith lord Gortoro, now Wrath of the Emperor, though the redundancy of the title now the Emperor was dead was proving a touch irksome at times. Not that he was in mourning over the event. A Sith didn't mourn the death of the egomaniac above them, just celebrate quietly internally and behind closed door.

What the death had done, to Gortoro's joy, was leave him without a superior and thus entirely without oversight and outside of the chain of command, except on those rare occasions he joined an open conflict, in which case he was firmly at the top.

For now though he was taking a, in his mind, well earned holiday, capitalising on his complete lack of accountability before anyone took notice, enjoying the sights, and indulging in sloth, lust, avarice and, as was the case now, gluttony. It made a welcome change from envy, wrath and pride as sins went, for one they were far more enjoyable.

Which was why he was currently sat down in one of Nar Shadda's best restaurant's enjoying the welcome surprise of watching the Grand Master of the Jedi Order sit down at the nearest table to him, the woman apparently unaware that scant metres from her were six of the Empire's most dangerous.

Slowly he met Jaesa's gaze, noting the psychopath's glee. He shook his head, while trying to minimise his presence in the Force even more than he did normally.

He took a moment to observe Satele, noting her lightsaber hidden as subtly as was possible in an evening gown. The thoughts going through his mind were reckless, if not downright suicidal, but he would be going against his most basic nature if he did otherwise. Curiosity was a terrible thing sometimes.

"Quinn, Vette." He said in low tones, quietly attracting the attention of his intelligence office/pilot and his twi'lek slave-turned-girlfriend. "Do you have my back?" It was a rhetorical question, a gesture to inform all at the table he was about to do something dangerous.

Both nodded an affirmative, the two were the only one's whose normal weapons they'd been able to sneak in. Rifles were far to bulky to even consider getting away with and lightsabers would have raised far too many questions if they'd been searched.

"Evening, Master Shan." He stated, placing a hand on her shoulder, earning a gratifyingly startled reaction as she narrowly stopped herself from grabbing her lightsaber. "Are you expecting someone?"

Satele turned, this time taking her blade out with deliberate intent as she found herself into the amber eyes, and heavily darkside corrupted face of a Sith cyborg; though she didn't ignite it. "Who are you?" She demanded simply, aware whoever the Sith was they had the drop on her.

"Is this seat taken?" Gortoro asked, avoiding the question entirely and not even awaiting an answer as he sat down opposite her.

"What do you want, Sith?" Satele demanded, anger flashing briefly in her eyes, before it was quashed.

"Do I have to want something? Can I not merely wish to bask in the wondrous presence of one of my peers?" He flashed her a winning grin, "Grand Master, if my intentions were anything other than peaceful do you really think I'd approach you in a suit and tie?"

The Jedi secreted her lightsaber back into her gown. "I know you from somewhere..."

The Sith's smile was both genuine and joyous, "We spoke once a few years ago. It was just before my first boarding action." There was an amused chuckle, "You made quite an impression."

Satele's brow was slightly scrunched as she cast her mind back through the years, "The Brental Star."

"I'm honoured you remember me Grand Master."

"Give me one really good reason I shouldn't cut you down here and now." She demanded vehemently.

"Calm yourself, Master Shan." Gortoro said reasonably, "Anger is my job, peace and serenity yours."

She took a deep breath, taking his advice despite the indignity of finding herself corrected by a Sith. "I'm still waiting for a reason."

The Wrath chuckled good-naturedly, "How about all these good people enjoying their meal?" He gestured at the restaurant in general. Despite this being Nar Shadda there was still the chance that, in the broadest terms, some of the patrons could fit into the category of 'good people' provided whoever was doing the classifying was willing to squint. "I very much doubt they would appreciate the Grand Master of the Jedi Order and the Emperor's Wrath using the place for a brawl. Call it a hunch."

Once again Satele jolted with surprise, "You're-"

"The advantages of wearing a helmet." Gortoro explained blithely, "though I assume that the advantages of anonymity will be lost to me after today."

"Then why approach me?"

"I don't know really, I just thought 'How often am I going to get a chance to talk face-to-face with th Jedi Grand Master?' and here I am. Sith are allowed to be impulsive." He flashed his trademark smile at her, the overall effect one of great imperturbability and amusement. "So what brings a Jedi such as yourself to Nar Shadda?"

A lightsaber ignited behind him. "I did." declared a male voice.

"How tediously dramatic." The Sith yawned, "I expected something subtler. Very well young knight, you have the drop on me. You could kill me in fact, cut me down in front of my apprentice and beloved. Or you could show me the same kindness and courtesy I've shown the lovely Satele here and sheathe that blade."

"Do it Ergosest." Master Shan ordered firmly, despite herself she was finding it hard not to take a like to the calm, collected and utterly imperturbable attitude of the Sith lord, he'd have made a good Jedi if things had gone differently.

Gortoro half-turned, "Ergosest?.. I was expecting the Emperor's killer to be... bigger I guess."

"Master Shan, this is the Emperor's Wrath, we can't just-" The Knight began to protest, only to be quietened by her raising a hand.

"He's already told me." Satele stated simply, cutting off all debate on the matter.

"How do you even know me?" Gortoro inquired quietly, "I've taken great care to be unidentifiable outside of my armour, the only Jedi to see my face swore to secrecy, so how did you recognise me?"

"I'll second that question." Satele stated, directing a piercing look at the young, though skilled, knight who paled as two of the galaxy's most formidable awaited an answer with rapt attention.

"It was when I was preparing to fight the Emperor. We'd considered that you might be there, and the only Jedi to face you in the last two years was Master Timmns."

Gortoro chose this moment to interrupt. "I think face is a little judgemental, Master Timmns and I cooperated quite amiably. A pity his own master wasn't so diligent to the Jedi Code."

There was annoyed growl from the knight, the Jedi irritated at the interruption, "Only Jedi to have observed you recently then. The point is he told me about how your cybernetics were helpful to you in combat and how strong you were in the dark side. So a heavily corrupted Sith with a cyber eye, that alone narrows the field massively."

"A passable deduction." Gortoro mused quietly, "But not enough on its own. What else gave it away?"

"I recognised Jaesa." There was a coldness in those words which made Hoth seem a sauna by comparison, yet The Wrath noted that Satele did not comment beyond a tight lipped frown; apparently Ergosest was allowed a longer leash than most Jedi.

"Then in the interests of reunions, put that blasted lightsaber way, you're scaring people." The Sith snapped before changing tact when this provoked no reduction in the Jedi's aggressive stance. "Fine. We can have this fight. But bear in mind that win or lose it will be you responsible for the consequences. I'm picturing a minimum of two dead, maximum of eight, and every single one of us has sufficient influence for the ripples of consequence to spread across the galaxy in less than a day."

"Stand down Ergosest." The Grand Master ordered firmly, "He's right, we can't afford this fight."

Begrudgingly he put away his blade, taking a seat at the table.

"So... say what you wanted to say Sith, then leave."

"As you wish Grand Master." He smiled amiably as some of the tension drained from the air. "Well as I'm here perhaps I could ask a small favour?"

"I'm not going to like this am I?" Revan's eldest surviving relative commented, a fact that, had he but been been aware of it, would likely have left the Wrath on bended knee. Darth Revan had been a particular hero of his, even more so now than in his youth after he'd crossed blades with the man himself at the Foundry.

"It is a small thing," Gortoro assured her, "requiring no true effort on your part, in fact a reduction in effort is what I'm hoping for. For the next four months I am essentially on holiday. I would appreciate it if you got all your spies and assassins off my back."

"And why would we do that?" Satele asked, appearing to consider it.

"Well it would free up a considerable amount of your resource for that time and earn my good will." Another wan smile. For an enforcer he was a surprisingly diplomatic soul. "But I imagine my good will is a rather meaningless commodity to you, so I'll create a facsimilie of a deal I once had with a small squad of Republic soldiers. One favour of your choice."

"And how do we know that you will honour this agreement?" Ergosest questioned suspiciously.

"Check your records. I've been nothing but honourable with the Republic." The Sith replied honestly. "Ruthless, yes. Merciless at times, but always honest and honourable. Alas it is only amongst my own people that I must anticipate treachery as most anticipate their next breath." There was a surprising weariness to the words.

"You almost sound like you want to defect." Master Shan observed, her lips pursed slightly to avoid showing any shock at his world-weariness.

"Nothing so dramatic. I just wonder what it would be like not having to bring two lightsabers, bodyguards and body armour to every diplomatic meeting."

"Just as stressful." Satele confessed, "The only notable difference is that the main threat is boredom rather than death."

"So my request?" Gortoro prompted.

"I will grant it but... oh." Satele stopped, eyes fixed on a point past his shoulder, "Well played Sith, very well played. You had me fooled entirely."

Bemusedly the Wrath extended his sense with the Force and sighed heavily as he found the source of Satele's concern. "I know you won't believe me, but this was not my doing."

"You're right Sith, we don't believe you." Ergosest snapped irritably, beginning to rise from his chair as his hand went to his lightsaber as the squad of Imperial troopers approached.

"For all we know they could be here for me." The Sith Lord pointed out, feeling the soldiers raise their guns.

In a moment of madness he dived over the table, bearing the three of them to the floor as fifteen men open up, blaster rifles and assault cannons on full auto, the sheer volume of fire too much for any Sith or Jedi to deflect, though considering the calibre of Force-user present it might have been just possible for the three of them to pull it off if they had: a) all been armed. And b) not bickering at the time.

The more quiet cacophony of blaster pistols joined the assault, followed by gratifying screams of agony and the faint sizzle of flesh as Vette and Quinn opened fire, Broonmark and Pierce flipping the table in a single seamless movement for them to use as cover, whilst Jaesa, with psychotic glee, unleashed lightning into the nearest three still standing, the blast propelling them into the nearest wall. They didn't get up.

Flanked unexpectedly, the soldiers barely managed to return fire before they were all gunned down. The twi'lek a crack shot where her lover was concerned.

Gortoro relaxed, rolling off of the two Jedi with a relieved sigh, followed by a pained yelp as a fist collided with his face, breaking his nose in a fine spray of blood. A lightsaber ignited then descended towards the stunned Sith, his death written all over it.

The blade stopped so close to his face that he could feel the heat of it upon his cheeks, instant sunburn on the pale, corrupted features though quite welcome when the alternative was considered.

Cautiously Gortoro rolled out of the saber's path, without the lightsaber's purple glare so close, he could now identify the person who had, unequivocally, saved his life.

Satele's hands were visibly beginning to blister as she held the Jedi Master's saer by the blade, teeth gritted in concentration.

Casually as he could, very much aware of his audience and not above a touch of showboating, the Wrath stretched out a hand, using the Force to choke the Jedi unconscious. Three seconds later the Jedi slumped bonelessly to the floor, to the amazement of the two other Force users present; Jaesa finally managing to make it past the splintered remnants of the table.

On reflection that was unfair, Gortoro decided, though the struggle with the Jedi had certainly seemed to last at least a minute, in actuality a mere handful of seconds had passed.

Feeling somewhat awkward, the Sith sought something to say, "Is he always this... volatile?" He asked, righting what was left of the table and carefully repositioning the scorched tablecloth back into place.

The Grand Master nodded, "It's a continuing problem."

"Any idea why I'm sporting a bloody nose?"

"He probably thought you'd attacked us." Satele noticed the stunned looks that comment was getting, except from Vette.

The twi'lek had yet to holster her blasters and was staring at the unconscious Jedi, violent thoughts visibly at war with her conscience.

Before Satele could do anything a gentle hand came to rest of the blue-skinned woman's shoulder. Vette looked up into her lover's eye. There was a light shake of the head from him, somehow without passing judgement before he tenderly kissed her cheek. "I'm fine my love. No damage done."

The twi'lek reholstered her blasters as the Sith returned his attention upon Satele; the Jedi regarding him with wary curiosity.

"That shouldn't have been possible." She said slowly.

"What shouldn't?" The bemused Sith inquired, unable to get anywhere without some sort of context.

"For you to choke him out so fast." Uncertainty clouding her tone as she contemplated this feat.

Indecision flashed across the organic parts of Gortoro's face as he weighed up the pros and cons of informing Satele as to the kernel of inspiration that had les to his unsurpassed mastery of the technique, a second's thought passed before he concluded that the chance of increasing the slight trust he believed the captivating Jedi had for him was worth his secret.

Afterall it was a dark side technique so the Jedi Order would never use it, nor would they willingly give it to other Sith.

"I'm not as... unrestrained as most Sith. The added control this gives me allow me to constrict the carotid artery rather than the throat. More a force strangle than a choke." The Wrath informed her, carefully neglecting to mention that he could just as easily have severed the artery as squeezed it. "I doubt most of my brethren could replicate it even if they knew how." He continued, trying to preemptively assuage Satele's fears. "Though I could comment on your own unusual skills. When Darth Malgus told me you could catch a lightsaber I assumed he was trying to make himself look better. Care to share your own secrets?"

Master Shan smiled weakly, "I'm afraid it's purely instinctive, much like your own apprentice's abilities."

"Oh well, might I suggest we settle the bill for the damage and then go our separate ways. A pleasure to meet you in person Master Shan, please tell Master Timmns I asked after his health and send my thanks for the cask of Alderanian ale." That said he tossed a credit chit to the cowering manager, hoisted a giggling Vette into his arms bridal style and stalked out, entourage following in his wake.

In the wreck of the restaurant Satele Shan watch him leave with confusion and surprise written plainly on her elfin features, her evening not having gone as she's expected in even the slightest detail.

Author's Note: I'm unsure whether to keep this as a oneshot or not, if I continue likely the next few chapters will focus on the Sith W.'s holiday as well as the goings on of the Empire independent of him. Also I've left the possibility of DS Jaese/Jedi K. romance open because I find the idea hilarious, and it hasn't turned up online yet at all... something is clearly wrong with the internet.