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General Zod had never taken in strays.
He had no concern for underdogs.
Weak were weak and meant to be used as a means to serve and strengthen the strong.
When he had found Faora-Ul some years ago, her situation had been dire and she could easily have been left to the vile fate of the men attacking her. She had stood no chance against the gang, beating her to the ground and tearing the suit from her body. She had already taken a beating; rape was sure to follow with death likely afterward. But she had fought every inch of the way to the ground and, once pinned there by her attackers, her eyes and lips continued to battle the men.
Dru had stopped when in past he would have left them all to their actions. Wearing the basic uniform that denoted a high rank in the Military guild, he had made his presence known to the group. ,
Two had the sense to run immediately, but the one kneeling between the widespread legs of the young woman and the two friends that pinned her there had stayed. They had exchanged worried glances amongst themselves before scrambling to their feet; the foolish thought of challenging Zod clear in the stances they take against him.
Dru had had no interest in fighting such filth, though, he had pulled the bone sword from its sheath on his hip and looked to the nude and shaking body still sprawled on the dirt.
“Would you have them get away unharmed?” he had asked, looking into her wide blue eyes.
There had been no tears in her gaze from her assault, no shame at her nakedness; only fury that any had dared do such a thing to her.
While her attackers stood idly by in their confusion at what was occurring, she had risen and taken the weapon offered to her. She had been only eighteen and built like a waif; petite and slender with little muscle upon her bones. She had taken the petrified bone grip of the sword in her hands, tested the weight of the lethal three foot blade then given a fierce battle cry before putting all her might behind a savage swing of the weapon.
One attacker was sliced in half, the one standing beside him sustained fatal injury as the momentum carried the blade into his side to lodge against his spinal cord. As he had fallen to the ground, screaming in agony, the girl had ruthlessly retrieved the blade from his torso and looked after the third as he had begun to run. With the evident makings of a superior warrior; she had hefted the sword to her shoulder and given chase.
Zod had followed at a leisurely pace, stepping over the pleading young man that bled out from his injuries. He had found them over the rise, the girl so short that she was barely visible even with her attacker kneeling and sobbing at her feet. The fool had leant forward, bending his head in supplication for her mercy and she had cut through his neck without hesitation.
“And what of the two that fled?” Dru had asked curiously as he walked down the hill to join her.
She had shaken the sword to dislodge the blood and gore upon its blade, ignoring the splatters on her skin, then knelt to a knee and raised the sword up to him to return it. He had accepted it with a nod, placed it back in the sheath and arched a prompting brow to indicate he still awaited her response.
“I will find them,” she had said with firm resolution, eyes locked on the clasps of his boots.
“To do what?” he had asked.
“To flay them,” her eyes had flashed electric fire when she raised them to look at him.
“Your name, girl.”
“Faora Hu-Ul.”
“General Dru-Zod,” he had introduced himself with a nod and moved to shrug out of his cape. “Come find me at the guild when you have finished.”
She had taken the cloak from his extended hand with a slight hesitation before wrapping the black length around herself with a nod of agreement to his terms.
He had left her like that to continue on his rounds.
She had done just as she had vowed and within a week the guard had found the bodies of the two that had fled after attacking her; skinsuits and skin removed. She had arrived on his doorstep the following day with his neatly washed and folded cape in her hands.
“The Tigress of Zod,” they called her as she grew and trained under Dru’s merciless instruction. While had broken under his tutelage, she had thrived. She absorbed his every lesson and savagely wielded the knowledge against any she sparred with or fought in actual battle. She followed him without question and protected him without thought to herself.
Dru did not consider his actions to have merited such allegiance, but he had welcomed her as his best soldier and most loyal subject.
When they were sentenced to the Phantom Zone, she stood straight and stoic before the Council without a trace of regret for her actions. Their battle had been lost, but her eyes had sparked with the same fire that had always told Zod that her will had been unaffected by capture. She would tolerate whatever the Council dealt to her then she would seek her justice for their offence.
No matter how long they imprisoned her for somatic reconditioning, Zod had known that she would never lose that fervor.
When they have awakened prematurely from their sentence, though, he had seen something that he never would have expected from her.
Tears.
In all the time that he had known her, through all the traumas she had endured; Faora Hu-Ul had never cried.
As she had stared at the decimation of their world, tears had slid silently down her ivory cheeks. Dru-Zod had honestly begun to think her incapable of producing them.
The sight had nearly brought him to his knees to cry out in anguish beside her, but she had needed him to be strong in that moment; they all had needed that. He had put his bare hand upon her shoulder and squeezed in commiseration. When her bare hand had reached up to wrap around his wrist he had jolted with an awareness never before felt between them.
Her eyes; bright and shining with loss, had looked up to him with a need that he could not fill. He had brushed the fingers of his free hand over her cheek to wipe away the tears then gently urged her to stand. His Tigress had returned the instant that she was back on her feet, but the memory had remained.
Her wide, blue eyes; her soft, cool skin; her open, searching expression.
She haunted him along with the multitude of ghosts left in the wake of Krypton’s ruin.
When she barked commands to the others as they scouted and raided the outposts; his ears had still rung with the soft, broken quality of her voice as she had informed him, “Krypton is gone.”
When she stalked the corridors of the Black Zero, impatient to be of use as they jetted from one realm of the galaxy to another, he watched the sway of her hips and the grace of her stride.
When she looked to him for orders, he saw the want of a woman.
As it had become evident to them all that their search for surviving Kryptonian brethren, Jax-Ur had been the first to suggest that they consider repopulating by the ancient means of sex-sharing; an actual physical joining to combine biological components for the creation of an offspring. There had not been many females imprisoned on the vessel, but there had been few men to have survived the process of reviving from the petrifying cells.
They could have paired off, found a planet with hospitable environs for them to adapt to, mated amongst themselves and continued the legacy of Krypton, but it had all rung too similar to what Jor-El had done and Dru would have no part of it. He had kept his focus pinned on the memory of a starship launched from Jor-El’s conservatory with the Codex and hope for all of Krypton aboard it.
He had not prevented mating and Tor-An coupled himself with Car Pol-Vex, Nam-Ek with Zora Vi-Lar and Jax-Ur with Shyla Kor-Onn. That had left two males for Faora to pair with, but she had stayed at Zod’s side in the only capacity that he would allow.
If the unattached males had felt any urges to couple, they had lain together.
If Faora had felt any want for company in the long, dark nights of space, she never exposed that weakness to any other aboard the vessel.
Just as Zod had never allowed himself to find if mating was as pleasurable as the others made it sound as they rutted together. He never allowed himself to learn the taste of Faora’s lips or the feel of her embrace.
She died for him; for his steadfast determination to destroy the son of El and rebuild Krypton, without ever knowing that he had wanted to give her everything in exchange for her devotion.
But Dru-Zod had never been shown affection.
Dru-Zod had not known how to give love.
Sacrifice was what one did for people, not for the want of one person.
He found too late that he would have died for her as proudly as she had fallen in battle for his cause.