Poison & Power || Qimir/The Stranger x OC

Chapter Two: Silent Desperation

Riyah pushed open the apothecary's creaky door, the cool evening air brushing against her skin like a silent invitation. Behind her, Qimir's voice rang out in protest, but she waved him off without a second thought. She didn't care about his weak protests or his concerns about the master calling them. He was always so afraid of missing a command, as if they were on the edge of something grand. Riyah knew better—knew that her master rarely called for her, or worse, never in the way she craved.

She slipped into the shadows of the bustling street, her cloak swaying lightly with her steps. Qimir's incessant ramblings faded into the background as she walked, her mind wandering back to her master. The Stranger. That was how he'd introduced himself all those years ago, saving her from the Jedi hunters. He had been a silent, commanding presence in her life ever since, a figure she couldn't escape.

She remembered the moment vividly.

The sharp crackle of a lightsaber. The bright flash of its blade as her Jedi pursuer fell to the ground. It wasn't mercy that motivated him to help her—it was something deeper, darker. Something that she hadn't yet understood at the time. And since that day, she had followed him, like a shadow trailing his every move. He had given her purpose, a reason to keep running, to stay hidden from those who sought to end her.

Riyah kicked a loose stone down the street, her lips curling in frustration. It had been eight years, and yet she was still waiting for him to fully acknowledge her. He never trained her, not properly. All she received were scraps—scraps of knowledge, theories, insights into the Force, but never anything concrete. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

She had spent years watching from the sidelines, learning on her own, practicing alone with a stolen lightsaber that felt like a foreign object in her hand. Each time she had asked him for more, for real guidance, he had dismissed her questions with the same infuriating calm. He never gave her a reason. Never told her why. And, like a fool, she never pressed the issue.

Now, Mae-ho was in the picture. She was the chosen one, wasn't she? The one who received real missions, the one who was being groomed for something greater. It gnawed at Riyah, eating away at her every time she watched Mae leave for another assignment. Why her? Why not Riyah? Was she not strong enough? Had she made too many mistakes along the way?

A sharp pang of jealousy tightened in her chest, one she refused to acknowledge aloud. Mae was stronger, faster, and more in tune with the dark side—or so the master seemed to think. But Riyah didn't believe it. She had seen Mae fail, seen her stumble, and each time she had felt a sickening twist of satisfaction. At least Mae wasn't perfect. At least she didn't have it all.

But that satisfaction was fleeting. Riyah's thoughts always returned to the same place, circling like a predator around its prey. What did she have to do to earn her master's favor?What more could she give?

She slowed her pace, her eyes narrowing.The streets were quieter now, the usual noise of the city giving way to the stillness of the night. She wasn't supposed to be out like this, wandering aimlessly when there were tasks at hand. But she needed to clear her head. She needed to figure out how to make herself seen.

Qimir had suggested once, in his annoying, lighthearted way, that maybe it was all a test. Maybe the master was waiting for something, some sign of her true potential. She had dismissed it at the time, irritated by his carefree attitude. But now, as she walked through the dimly lit streets, she wondered if there was some truth to it.

The truth was simple:she wasn't enough for the master. Not yet. He never said it, but Riyah knew it deep down. And so, she spent her days in quiet desperation, hiding her obsession from the others. She would never let Qimir or Mae see just how much she craved their master's approval. They would never understand, not the way she did. She would be vulnerable, and in their world, vulnerability was a weakness, a fatal flaw that others would exploit. She couldn't afford that.

She passed a group of merchants, their hushed voices trailing behind her. They didn't matter, not in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was her purpose, her place in the Stranger's world. Her obsession was a quiet fire, burning just beneath the surface.

As she continued walking, she tried to quell the doubts, the rising tide of anger that came with every reminder of Mae's favored position. It would be different soon, she promised herself. She would find a way to make him see her. To make him recognize her potential, her power.

She would do whatever it took.

And maybe, just maybe, one day, he would look at her with the same regard he had for Mae-ho.