A Prick of the Thorn: Part 2/3

Posted on Sat Feb 14th, 2026 @ 8:06am by Sergeant Jace Morven & Rook

2,650 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Rook's Quarters
Timeline: Early 2389

Previously:

"Better not drink too much of that then..." Rook quipped back, motioning to his glass, but with a small, wry smile. "The beauty of a name that you pick yourself is that you can choose something...just right."

Jace considered it before he let out a soft breath. "Maybe," he said before he took another sip, despite the warning. "It's who I am now anyway."

Continued:

"It suits you," Rook declared, reaching behind him. He pulled his dagger free, setting it on the table. The blade was black, engraved with Romulan script, and deadly sharp. The hilt was shaped perfectly for a secure hold, but was also beautiful. The grip was wrapped with fine, gold embellished leather, the guard was scrolled and encrusted with delicate crystals, and the pommel was set with a large, dark red jewel. "And this is Thornbane."

Jace shifted forward, watching the dagger. He couldn't read the writing even if he had wanted to. He saw instead the shape, the promise of sharpness...it was beautiful. The work done on the leather, the careful carvings...it spoke of worth. Expense. "Worth more than a starship it the right hands."

"These ones?" Rook chuckled at he lifted his beringed hands. "They are the only ones that will wield it while I still breathe."

Jace watched the hands, studying them closely...the elegance of them. How swift he was when he moved. "It's a sharp edge," he said quietly, meeting his eyes. "A pretty edge too."

"Just how I like it," Rook admitted with a small smile, sipping his drink with a soft sigh of appreciation. "I'm curious...I don't think much would have tempted you here, let alone to tell me stories. What was it about Thornbane that did it?"

Jace considered it, taking a slow breath. His eyes flickered around the room, not quite looking for an exit. "It was...something to make me talk to you again," he finally said. "You set the rules down. Made it easier. And..." his eyes went to the blade. "Maybe I know what it is to have a weapon you keep close from others."

A small smile pulled at Rook's lips...because it sounded suspiciously like he'd just wanted an excuse to speak more with him. "Do I get to know what your weapon is for free?"

Jace looked at him, studying him for a moment. He gave a nod, slow, before he reached for the glass. He sipped it, slowly, before he put it on the table. He didn't look at Rook again. "It's me."

Rook inclined his head, not particularly surprised...the man was clearly a weapon. "Well, I shall know who to call when I need someone evicted from my bar."

"There's MPs for that now," Jace said softly, eyes going to the knife. He had questions...but he wasn't sure how to best ask. So instead his mind went back to the deal. Two stories. He had given one. He shifted, elbows resting on his knees, hands slack but ready as he leant forward a little to watch Rook. "Why did you make this bargain?" he finally asked. A question that had...surfaced.

"Because knowledge has value, and I never give anything away for free," Rook arched an eyebrow and held his eyes with an expression that said it was a lesson he should remember. "I named it Thornbane when it came into my possession. Do you have a second story ready for after I tell you?"

Jace wetted his lips, at how he said it. It felt familiar, almost enough to send a shiver down his back, his breath almost catching, He gave a small nod. "Yes," it was a bargain stuck, reinforced as surely as if he had sworn on something.

Rook nodded with approval, leaning to top their glasses up, fortifying them for the story ahead. He sipped his drink, taking a moment to decide what to say...because the only fact that was certain about Rook was that he never told a story the same way twice. "It all goes back to a forgotten war on a forgotten world. Many fought to overthrow the supreme army whose vice like grip had choked the life out of their culture and people. Victory was hard earned, but finally, the people were free once more.

"Some years later, a friend of mine, Laurant, was found dead in the streets, like some vagrant animal, although nothing could be further from the truth. He was a veteran of the revolution, although few knew it. I soon came to realise that he was by no means alone. There were others too, four in all, left for dead in the gutter over the course of a month. Such a senseless turn of events...unless, of course, you knew that all four victims had been a part of the same covert team that had operated during the war to identify and assassinate high value enemy targets. Which I did know. For....reasons. And there was one more thing they had in common....the Kastral Opera House."

Jace shifted, watching him for a long moment. His mind was taking in the facts, the dead. The words...flowery, the dramatic way that Rook spoke...that wasn't something that settled. No. It was the way he spoke, the way his voice sounded...there was something there he couldn't pinpoint. But he found himself listening. Not interrupting...just listening to the story of Thornbane.

"A bribe here and a bribe there, I learned that each of them had visited the Kastral before being found dead," Rook continued, lifting his bare feet to rest on the sofa, crossing them at the ankle as he stretched languidly against the long seat. "So I decided to investigate. I booked the royal box, wore a rather exquisitely hand-tailored suit, paid far too much for an aged bottle of rye...but it bought me the best seat in the house.

"The opera was The Velvet Rose, do you know it? A stirring piece of work, although the soprano's love aria does become a touch indulgent," Rook paused to sip his drink before continuing, as if able to hear the music. "It's the one where three roses are thrown to members of the audience at the end. One for love, one for sacrifice and one for death. But that night? There was a fourth rose, delivered to the man in the box opposite mine. And by the following day, he was dead."

Jace's eyes narrowed a little as he considered it. He...had no idea what he was talking about, but he could follow the facts. The pattern. An extra rose. "Who delivered the fourth rose?" the words escaped him and he tightened his jaw as if it could somehow claim them back.

A small smile pulled at Rook's lips at the question, impressed by the other man's inquisitive mind. "That is what I vowed to find out. So I returned a few nights later. This time, the suit was cut for the eye to linger, the money was splashed to demand attention and I held the chamber captive as skilfully as any performer on the stage.

"And it worked. Before the night was over, I had done enough to catch the attention of the impresario, Cassiva...a woman as beautiful as she was mysterious. For no one knew of her life before the Kastral. Only that one day, she had arrived with enough money to buy the Opera House, and had remained its patron ever since.

"The following days were...well...stirring, if a touch indulgent," Rook chuckled softly at the turn of phrase as he continued, sliding an arm up to rest behind his head. "We dined on the finest luxuries of the season, danced on the rooftop under starlight and spent the nights swathed in nothing but silk and desire. And for more than just a moment, she made me forget what I was there for."

Jace was frowning slightly as he tried to parse the words...tried to understand what he meant. A lot of meaning was lost but that wasn't a new sensation for him, so he dismissed that. His eyes went over Rook, at how he moved, at the way his hair caressed the shoulder, the nick in his ear, the way his arm was behind his back as he eased back. His lips parted for a moment and the frown eased, making him look younger...and just a little bit confused and curious.

Rook took the silence from the other man as his cue to continue the story. "So, one night, after drinking a coupe of aged champagne and marking up the antique headboard in the best possible way, Cassiva was called away to attend to some business. I could have remained in those silk sheets, blissful and ignorant...but as always, my instinct for trouble won the day.

"She had this ornate lacquered box that she kept on her dressing table. Vintage, charming and incredibly well made. I had my eye on it for sometime, and, well, how could I resist? I opened the box...and there it was..." Rook motioned to the dagger that was set on the table between them. "A beauty, isn't it. The only difference was the engraving along the blade had yet to be added.

"But it wasn't the only thing that caught my attention. A mere glance, and I could tell that the bottom of the box was too high; if anyone knows their way around a hidden compartment, it's me. Well, it would have been inconceivable not to take a look. So I opened it up, only to find a folded letter. It was addressed to a General Aurael, offering the dagger as a gift for his exemplary service to the supreme army. The name was not unknown to me...in fact, I knew him to be one of those high value targets that Laurant and the rest of his covert ops team had assassinated during the war.

"Well, I could hardly stop there. I dug a little deeper only to find a dried red rose and a picture of General Aureal with a young woman. The likeness was undeniable, it was Cassiva...his daughter. And one last, damning piece of evidence...a black card, with the names of the covert team members written by her delightful hand in silver ink, and each of the deceased operatives had been crossed out with a single, fateful line.

"The mist of ardour cleared from my vision and I finally saw what her blinding light had obscured all along. Cassiva had sent the fourth rose, and all the others before it. And it was in that moment of realisation that she returned to the bedroom to find me with her reaper's list in hand."

Jace let out a soft breath, looking at him with slight confusion at the twist and turn on the tale. "What did she do?" he asked, but the real question in his mind was what did Rook do. His hands were loosely clasped together as he watched him, searching his features...if Rook was lying, it hadn't entered his mind. He saw nothing he'd expect...and more importantly, nothing to suggest aggression, or threat, from Rook. So in an odd way...he trusted what he saw before him.

"Well, she knew there was no denying it, so she moved to justifying it instead," Rook took a long breath, a small smile playing across his features as if remembering the look on her face. "Those monsters had killed her beloved father, who had done nothing more than his duty...leaving her destitute and alone in the world. Why shouldn't she deliver the vengeance that would allow him to rest easy in his death sleep?

"So she had invited those responsible, one by one, to enjoy her opera as an honoured guest, and delivered each the fourth rose...genetically cultivated to produce a potent, deadly toxin. The mark of death...sealed with a kiss.

"But her deadly task was almost complete, so why not join her in a new life without death? She was devastatingly rich, enough to make the rest of the world fade away. We could be and do whatever we wished. Just me and her, together forever."

Rook fell silent, lost in the moment as he caressed a fingertip across his bottom lip...before finally taking a short, sharp breath. "Of course, I knew the truth of it. If there had been a monster, it was undoubtedly her father...he was one of the most ruthless fists in the supreme army, responsible for more sins than a doting daughter wanted to understand. And the final insult for the pampered princess? She had been torn from her life of privilege and opulence, and forced to make her own way in the world.

"So...I told her that I would not rest until Laurant's justice had been served. To her credit, she didn't so much as blink. Only smiled and offered me a drink. Knowing her affinity for poison, I slid it straight back across to her. Then she tried to offer me a rose as a parting gift...to which I laughed and complimented her nerve. And so, she inevitably went for the dagger. The lithe lunge toward my throat was everything I had come to expect from her supple body. She even drew blood. But I drew more.

"I took the dagger as my trophy. And as the blade that finally put an end to the murderous rose, I named it Thornbane, in honour of the first blood it drew by my hand."

Jace sat there in silence, hearing his own heartbeat in the silence at the last words of Rook's story. He frowned, eyes going to the dagger. He reached out, eyes flickering to Rook, before moving a careful finger over the script written on it. "What does it say?" he asked, eyes lowering to study the blade. But apart from the finger touching it, briefly, he did not reach for it. It had been a moment just to tactically feel it...the writing. He pulled his hand back slowly, letting it curl into a loose fist.

Rook remained relaxed where he lounged on the sofa, making no move to stop him from touching it. "The rest is silence," he said softly, his smile widening.

Jace's eyes went to Rook's eyes, studying him for a long moment. He finally gave a nod, accepting it. The story of the blade. And a hint of how dangerous Rook was. And yet...it didn't worry him. It was just confirmation of what he already had known, that the man opposite him was a different kind of survivor...a different sort of dangerous. "How do you say it?" he asked, voice quiet. "In...it's language?"

Rook repeated it, but this time in Romulan, and a little more slowly, so he could pick up each syllable. "A fitting epitaph for that tale, wouldn't you say, Jace?"

Jace looked at him before he nodded...and then repeated it, following the cadence. He tilted his head a little, considering it. "You keep it, but...do you carry it with you? Or does it stay hidden?" In a way, he was asking how much of himself Rook took with him outside of the room.

Rook leant forward to him, his eyes narrowing slightly as a knowing smile played across his lips. "Thornbane is never far from my reach," he assured softly.

Jace looked at the smile before back at him, giving a small nod. "Classified," he finally said, his way of saying he wouldn't tell anyone.

To Be Continued:

Rook
Proprietor of The Green Kiss
USS Guinevere

&

Sergeant Jace Morven
Platoon Sergeant, Alpha Squad
Federation Ground Forces Detachment
USS Guinevere

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