Deathwing by QueensJenn
Summary: Once, and it's just bad luck. Repeatedly; well...that's a curse. You'd think you'd learn.
Categories: Expanded Universes Characters: Tomalak
Genre: Angst
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: Romulans for Romulus - Alternate Ending.
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 881 Read: 1242 Published: 31 Dec 2011 Updated: 31 Dec 2011

1. Deathwing by QueensJenn

Deathwing by QueensJenn
In the War College, you gained the name ‘Deathwing.’

Over time, it came to represent your success in battle. You are, after all, one of the most decorated Fleet Commanders in the Romulan military. It inspired awe in the hundreds of young centurions, fresh from the College, who all fought for positions in your fleet. Eventually, even you grew to like it, enough to make it the name of your flagship.

But only you know the true meaning of the name.


You don’t remember your mother. You couldn’t - you never met her. But ever since birth, you’ve heard tell of her - mostly from your father, mostly when he was half through a bottle of ale. It’s unheard of, he tells you, for a Romulan woman in this day and age to die in childbirth. It hasn’t happened in a hundred years. But Daehla’s absence proves the bitter truth that it has happened, and it did happen, and it’s all your fault.

You tell yourself you don’t care. You never met her, what is she to you?

You can tell yourself that all you want, but the rush of anger and shame that assaults you every time you catch sight of yourself in the mirror belies the truth.


You grew up on the colony world Arrhael. Not so much a colony anymore, than a place where rich, high-born nobles spent their retirement years. Your father was the governor; having been removed from his position in the Hundred after his wife died. They said it was a reward for his decades of service to the Empire; you suspected that he simply had a mental breakdown and was shipped offworld to a place where he could do the least amount of harm.

Arrhael was not called Paradise for nothing. Thousands of kilometres of untouched forests; reclaiming the land that was once mined for minerals until the planet became more valuable as a vacation spot than a source of gold and marble. From the time you were old enough to venture outside the compound by yourself, you had the run of the place.

You were sixteen when they bombed Arrhael, turning it from a paradise into a barren wasteland.

You don’t know how you alone survived.

Many years later when you find out the truth, it all becomes clear.


You remember the first girl you ever loved. It was during your time in the War College, when you were still stupid enough to place your trust in others. She was beautiful and smart, and against all odds loved you back - you, an orphaned reject from a failed colony world. You had nothing to offer her, neither money nor status, but she never cared.

You talked about marrying, once. After graduation. It was only a year away.

You remember the final test before graduation from the War College. How can you forget? An hour long run on the ice planet. Only an hour.

Years later, when you think back (in the middle of the night, when sleep eludes you), you still can’t piece together the exact order of events. You and she came to the part of the course over the frozen lake. Dozens of others had already been across. But she was frightened; she wanted to find the alternate way around. You told her that it would cost you both the passing grade, and that over the lake was the only way.

The ice cracked under her feet when you were halfway across. You dove into the frigid water after her, and after that you remember nothing after that.

They never did find her body.


You never meant to fall in love with Donatra. It violated every rule, every regulation you’d adhered to for the sake of your career up until that point.

It violated every rule you’d lived your life by.

It really wasn’t your fault, or so you’d told yourself. After all, she’d pursued you. You, you were the upstanding, by the book officer who would never so much as look twice at an underling, let alone Bond with.

You’d never meant to Bond with her.

You tried to fight it. But the Bond is a force unto itself and once set in motion cannot be resisted, and you had no choice but to give in.

You told yourself that this time would be different. You took the position of Proconsul so you could protect her; shield her from the Praetor’s wrath. You gave everything you had and then some to manipulate the Senate and the Council into doing your will.

It wasn’t enough. As cunning as you were, the Praetor was more so, and she laid the the trap that Donatra stumbled right into, and you were powerless to prevent the sequence of events that led to her death in a damp, cold prison cell.


Sometimes, a broken Bond kills the survivor outright. You hoped it might happen to you. But every morning mocks you with the truth that you are still alive.

The curse, you see, only works on the ones that you love.

And there is no one you hate more than yourself.

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