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imagineyourworld-old · 3 years

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Timing

Poe Dameron x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: You are in love with your best friend Poe, your best friend Poe is in love with you. Is there a chance for you love even though you realize it at different times?

Warnings: Angst, might differ from canon (is there even a canon for what happened after ROS?)

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It retrospect you should have known it was a bad idea. You knew Poe like the back of your hand, you should have anticipated his reaction. But he was leaving for a dangerous mission to Jakku the next day and you couldn’t bare the thought of never telling him how you felt. So you gathered all your courage and did it. “Poe?”, you started. The pilot, who was laying on his bed next to you, turned his eyes away from his datapad to face you. “What is it, honey?” The way he looked at you made your heartbeat quicken and your hands clammy. Even though he was tired, had dark rings under his eyes and his hair hadn’t seen a brush in weeks, he was the most handsome man you had seen in your life. Part of you knew that he had no reason to return your feelings, he could have anyone he wanted and more often than not invited various people to his room after a night of celebration while you prefered to stay in your quarters altogether. “I love you.” The words rolled off your tongue as if you’d said them a thousand times before. You and Poe had never shied away from showing or voicing your affection for the other, not when you were kids on Yavin IV, not in the academy and not when you joined the resistance. But this time you tried your best to convey the word’s true meaning, to make him realize what you yourself had realized years ago, that there was no one else for you, that Poe was not your best friend, he was your soulmate, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The man in question let go of his datapad to capture your hands in his. Gently he stroked your knuckles before pressing a soft kiss to them. “I love you too.” The way he said it made it obvious to you what he meant. You’re my best friend and I love you. Not You’re the one I have fallen for and I love you. You shook your head. When you thought back to that day this was the moment you wanted to erase, the one you wished had never happened. “No, Poe. I am in love with you.” If he noticed the tremble in your voice he didn’t comment on it. Instead, fast as lightning, Poe sat up straight and looked at you, really looked at you. “What?” By now you knew that you had screwed up, but his reaction told you that he had understood you perfectly. It was disbelief that made him ask that question and you had no other choice than to repeat yourself. “I am in love with you, Poe.” His eyes darkened. You were looking for anger in them, maybe frustration, but all you found was fear and... regret? “How can you say that? You’re my best friend, how can you say that you’re in love with me?” You opened your mouth and closed it again. Poe knew, he had to know, that at least half of the Resistance had a crush on him, so why did it come as a surprise that the same went for his best friend, the one he spent more time with than anyone else? “I... I just needed to tell you before tomorrow. You know how dangerous this mission is going to be and if anything were to happen I want to to know how loved you are.” Finally Poe let go of your hands. He ran a hand through his dark curls, again and again. It was a nervous habit he had picked up from his father when he was a kid and usually you found it endearing, but today it only made you feel worse. “Just forget it. Please. Let’s just watch a holovid or something and forget I ever said anything”, you begged. Tears were shining in your eyes and when the first rolled down Poe, his fingers gentle as ever, brushed it away. “I think I’d rather go over the mission plan again”, he smiled at you and anyone who wasn’t his best friend might have found that smile convincing, but you knew better. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright?” You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded. Of course you would see him off before his big mission, you always did. Just as you always spend the evening before the mission together, usually sleeping in the same bed, holding each other close in case... just in case. It had been things like that that had made you think that there was a chance that Poe felt the same way. The secret smiles he sent you, the small touches whenever you were within reach, the way he made it obvious to you that you came first, sometimes even before the Resistance. Without another word Poe hurried out of your room. It wasn’t until the door closed behind him and you heard a soft beep that you realized he had been in such a hurry to get away from you that he had forgotten to take BB8 with him. “You wanna go after him?” Tears were now flowing from your eyes and there was a hiccup in your voice, which was surely the reason the droid decided to keep you company for a little while longer.

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The next day Poe had already left when you arrived at the hanger, even though you were earlier than the agreed upon time. When he returned you ran up to him. You had thought he was dead and even if he didn’t return your feelings, he was still your best friend. At least that’s what you thought. You tried your best to hate Finn, but you just couldn’t. Yes, Poe had pretty much chosen him as his new best friend, but he was just so nice and kind and considerate, you couldn’t hate him. Besides, it was not Finn’s fault that you had been replaced. The first couple of month you blamed yourself., You shouldn’t have told Poe that you loved him, if you hadn’t nothing would have changed. Then you blamed Poe. You had never demanded that he loved you back, but you had been friends since before you could talk, how could he just throw all those years away? How could he refuse even your most innocent, most desperate, attempts at conversation? No matter how mad you were at Poe, your love for him was unchanged. You saw him every day and he was as kind and brave and funny and handsome as ever, all the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place were still there. Of course you were glad when the war ended and the First Order was defeated for all the right reasons, but part of you was glad you could leave the Resistance. They no longer needed you now that it was time to rebuild instead of fight. If all your hope of Poe ever loving you hadn’t died long ago it might have rekindled when you said goodbye. For the first time in forever he took time to actually talk to you. And though his hug seemed as warm and sincere as ever, you couldn’t believe his words. “I’m sad to see you go, but I’ll visit soon.” Of course you nodded, of course you hugged him back, but part of you know just how hollow his words really were. They had to be.

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Poe felt bad for how long it had been since he last visited his father. Though Kes never complained, Poe knew the old man missed his son and wanted to see him more often. But there was just so much to do, so whenever he did visit it was usually spontaneous and never for more than a couple of hours. He opened the front door, not bothering to knock. This was his home after all, even if he rarely ever visited. The smells that greeted Poe were familiar; his mum’s favourite flowers that his dad always kept someone in the house, a freshly brewed cup of tea and something that smelled like a distant childhood memory. Even though it should have been impossible, the sound he heard as soon as he stepped through the door was even more familiar. It send sparks flying through his body and made a grin spread on his face. Quickly he put a finger to his lips to tell BB8 next to him to be quiet. It had been so long since he last heard your laughter. Sometimes at night he heard it in his dreams, saw your face along with his mum’s. The two women he loved more than anything, the two women he lost. Shara’s death hadn’t been his fault, but not a day went by that Poe didn’t blame himself for letting you go. He had been too focused on the war, on saving people and making a better future to realize that the reason he fought, the person he wanted to spend his future with had been right beside him all along. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it when you told him that you loved him, why it had taken not having you in his life to come to the realization that he wanted you in his life, more than anything. And perhaps this was his chance. He tried to be as quiet as possible on his way to the living room, but as soon as he entered both you and Kes turned around. His father was the first to get up and envelop Poe in a hug. “What a surprise. How are you? You must be hungry, can I get you anything?” Poe declined the offer. Even if he had been hungry, his nerves wouldn’t have allowed him to swallow a single bite. He felt bad for basically ignoring his father, but how could he not when you were standing right there? “(Y/N), it’s... You look...” Beautiful wasn’t enough to describe you. Even covered in grease and sweat with only a couple hours of sleep you had been pretty, but now you had no circles under your eyes, your hair was shiny and looked just so soft and there was an aura around you that could only be described as peace and happiness. And though Poe was glad you seemed happy, it did sting a bit that you were so happy without him. “It’s been a while”, you smiled. If Poe hadn’t been in love with you before that smile would have made him fall for you. In retrospect he had no idea how he had gone most of his life without being in love with you. “I’ll let the two of you catch up. I should get to the kitchen anyway, Oscar should be here soon”, Kes declared and with an affectionate pad on his son’s shoulder he left the room. Poe was so busy staring at you that it took him a while to process his dad’s words. “Who is Oscar?” The soft smile on your face grew bigger than Poe had ever seen it and a spark took hold of your eyes. He couldn’t categorize that expression, but he knew that he wanted to see it every day for the rest of his life. He only realized that he had gotten closer to you when he suddenly felt your body heat. He hadn’t meant to, but something about you pulled him in like a magnet. He reached out a hand to push a strand of hair behind your ear, but the second he heard your word’s the hand fell. “My husband.” “Your... your... you’re married?” Thoughts were chasing in Poe’s head. How could he not have known that you were married? How could you marry someone else when he was so in love with you? Instead of an answer you simply raised your hand. There was a ring where, in his dreams, Poe had seen his mother’s ring countless times. It was fairly simple, and yet it seemed expensive. More expensive than anything Poe could ever have given you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he finally asked after moments of silence. You shrugged, a gesture that was so achingly familiar that it took Poe’s breath away. “We weren’t really talking anymore.” Of course you were right. Ever since you left the Resistance the two of you hadn’t spoken. Poe knew it was selfish of him to expect that you should have told him, should have invited him so he could have stopped the love of his life from marrying someone else. “Oh...”, was all he was able to say. He should have know that you wouldn’t be in love with him forever, but it hurt even more learning that you were married the day he had planned on telling you that he was in love with you. It had taken Finn and Rey months of trying to convince him to just tell you, after all you lived on Yavin IV, so it’s not like he had to see you every day if you didn’t return his feelings, he could have just left and tried to move on. Maybe, he thought, that was the very reason you had moved on, because you never saw Poe anymore. If only he had visited you as well as his dad, if only he had begged you to stay when you decided to leave, if only he had realized how he felt when you confessed your love. “Your dad invited us to dinner, so you’ll meet Oscar when he arrives in half an hour. He’s still at work right now, but-” “I can’t stay”, Poe cut you off. It hurt knowing that you were married and seeing your love for your husband in your eyes, but Poe knew that seeing the two of you together would break him. “Another time then”, you said with a soft smile. A smile Poe just wanted to kiss off your lips but never could. When you hugged him goodbye he breathed in your familiar smell, but underneath that there was a slight hint of a cologne that must be your husband’s. In a single second memories rushed through Poe’s brain. You wearing his shirt and laughing. You falling asleep in his arms. You hugging Shara and Kes before the two of you left for the academy. And the image that haunted his dreams of you with a baby in your arm, BB8 at your feet and Shara’s ring on your finger. Poe didn’t know how you had managed to survive after he had rejected you because he felt like he was drowning. He barely heard his father’s soft “I’m so sorry, son” or your “We’ll need to catch up soon”. It wasn’t until he was in hyperspace that tears starting rolling down his cheeks and neither the stars flying by nor BB8′s comforting beeps could make him feel better. At least you were happy, that was the only thought that brought him any comfort.

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Once again I should just finish my other stories before writing a new one, but this idea was just begging to be written.

I might write a second part, if anyone would want to read it, though I’m not sure yet.

Also please excuse that I couldn’t come up with a better name for the husband, but I guess the reader just has a type.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron angst #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars reader insert

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neuxue · 4 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 3

I have been waiting for this reunion for literal years. It did not disappoint.

Chapter 3: The Amyrlin’s Anger

Oh, we’re doing this!?

One thing I can guarantee: I am definitely not ready. Childhood friends turned childhood sweethearts turned near-siblings turned uneasy allies turned near-enemies, perhaps turned uneasy allies once more, with prophecy and opposing institutions and the apocalypse hanging over them?

I’m just. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a lot of thoughts about this whole dynamic, and I have been waiting for this… probably since they last saw each other in Lord of Chaos. Before that, even. Since they were set on their separate paths, but with this thread, strained and near at times to breaking but a thread all the same, of some kind of love between them that might, in the end, be enough to do what their predecessors could not, and face the end together.

Also their stories have been running in this fascinating not-quite-parallel for so long but they haven’t interacted in so long that I’m just! Very excited for this reunion and the pain it will no doubt bring!

I should start reading now, shouldn’t I?

Egwene floated in blackness. She was without form, lacking shape or body. The thoughts, imaginings, worries, hopes, and ideas of all the world extended into eternity around her.

The imagery of that last bit catches my attention here because it plays very close to the position Rand holds: stood at the centre, a force, or a being more than a person, touching all the world or – in Egwene’s case – all the world’s dreams. It’s just an interesting one, in amongst all the other parallels and inversions between them.

Though her feelings for Gawyn were still strong, her opinion of him was muddled recently.

Just break up with him already. Please. You’ve already once decided that actually no, I don’t want a storybook romance with the designated hero thank you very much; you can do it again.

The dreams of all the people here – some from her world, some from shadows of it – reminded her why she fought. She must never forget that there was an entire world outside the White Tower’s walls.

This is her anchor, just as Rand has now at last found his. Or, not even an anchor so much as a reason. Something to fight for, something to remember and strive for beyond the fight itself. And again this places her very much at the centre as well, looking at all the people, all the dreams, the entire world. They just each have their own ways of going about it, and their own reasons for doing so.

Time passed as she lay bathed in the light of dreams.

Just quoting this one because it’s pretty.

It’s sad to see Egwene thinking of the Wise Ones in terms of ‘dealing with’ them, but also not really surprising; there’s been a distance between them ever since she took on this role. They hid the events of Dumai’s Wells from her and she chose the Aes Sedai over them and it is, perhaps, one of the harsher aspects of the way she absolutely embraces her role, the good and the bad.

Ugh, fine, dream of Gawyn if you must.

A more simple life. It could not be hers, but she could dream…

Everything shook.

Or not. I’m just imagining this as the Pattern itself interrupting like ‘EGWENE, PLEASE. YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER THAN HIM.’

(Yes, the Pattern speaks in all caps. No I will not be accepting constructive criticism on this point).

This pleasant dream interrupted by an emergency broadcast: thirteen black towers rising and then all but six falling. In case you weren’t keeping track of how many Forsaken were still alive, I suppose.

And then a follow-up as a reminder, I assume, that Mesaana is still in the Tower.

Unless the eagles-and-snake bit is referring to the Black Tower? Still no idea what’s going on there these days; it’s been a while and I’m very, very curious after that ominous line drop in the KoD epilogue.

She saw an enormous sphere made of the finest crystal. It sparkled in the light of twenty-three enormous stars, shining down on it where it sat on a dark hilltop. There were cracks in it, and it was being held together by ropes.

There was Rand, walking up the hillside, holding a woodsman’s axe. He reached the top and hefted the axe, then swung at the ropes one at a time, chopping them free. The last one parted, and the sphere began to break apart, the beautiful white globe falling in pieces. Rand shook his head.

Innnnnnnnnteresting.

The sphere (and its breaking) sounds – first of all a lot like the Sharom because what, you thought I’d pass up a Rhuidean reference? – like the Dark One’s prison, perhaps. With Rand cutting the ropes like breaking the seals.

Or maybe the Choedan Kal, with all the brilliant light of that enormous power, that he has now broken. Or the world itself, I suppose. I’m going with the Dark One’s prison here, probably.

But what are the twenty-three stars?

Thirteens are common, you can’t swing a cat in this series without hitting a duality, threes and sevens crop up on occasion… but what the hell numbers twenty-three? Except for the graves Bashere once had to dig for oak trees on the orders of the mad general he served, but while there may be no such thing as coincidence, that’s a bridge too far even for me.

Nations? Okay now I’m just curious if I can name them all, so… in the wetlands we have: Altara, Amadicia, Andor, Arafel, Cairhien, Far Madding, Ghealdan, Illian, Kandor, Mayene, Murandy, Saldaea, Shienar, Tar Valon, Tear. Then the Aiel, or: Chareen, Codarra, Daryne, Goshien, Jenn (?), Miagoma, Nakai, Reyn, Shaarad, Shaido (?), Shiande, Taardad, Tomanelle. Then Seanchan and Shara on the edges, the Atha’an Miere and the Tuatha’an, and the dead nations of Malkier, Manetheren, and the Amayar. The Ogier. The even-more-dead nations like Almoth and Eharon and whatnot. But even playing with the obvious ones like how to count the Aiel, or the dead nations, or the city-states, there’s not an obvious 23.

The Hall of the Tower maybe? Three Sitters from each Ajah is 21, so with Amyrlin and Keeper we’re at a much cleaner 23, and there is the whole ‘Watcher of the Seals’ element of the Amyrlin’s role, so twenty-three stars watching could make sense.

Or, hell I don’t know, maybe there are 23 verses in the Karaethon Cycle. Meh.

Well, Egwene’s focused on the Mesaana implications (rather than the Messiah implications; I crack myself up sometimes), which seems fair enough.

“He’s here, Mother. At the White Tower.”

“Who?”

“The Dragon Reborn. He’s asking to see you.”

HERE! WE! GO!

Because you know what this means? It means, once again, that we’re going to get outsider POV of Rand, after a crucial turning point in his character.

Twice. Because first, we got it via Almen Bunt, effectively a random character. We got to see a ‘first glimpse’ of Rand, as it were. But now we get to see through the eyes of one who knows him – or rather, one who knew him. One like him in some ways and so very different in others. An opposing role who once was a friend. There’s just so many potential layers there, through which to observe, and I am inordinately excited for this.

Though okay right as I say that we shift POV to Siuan, so I may be pre-empting this.

That said, it’s either going to be some form of outsider POV or it’s going to be Rand’s POV and either way I’m going to be on the damn floor so it’s a win-win situation here.

The Dragon Reborn? Inside Tar Valon?

I mean technically that was the goal all the way back in EotW, so you could argue that he just took a really, really long detour. Across the entire continent, a past life, and near-destruction of the world, but… details.

“He was at the Sunset Gate”

How appropriate. Is there perhaps a Wind Tower for him to climb?

“What is his game, do you think?” Saerin asked.

“Burn me if I know,” Siuan replied. “He’s bound to be mostly insane by now. Maybe he’s frightened, and has come to turn himself in.”

“I doubt that.”

“As do I.”

Harsh, Siuan. But not entirely unfounded – at least on the mostly insane part. He’s not, but first of all how would she know that and second of all, if this were a few days earlier, that would be a much harder one to argue. (For the record, my own interpretation of Rand’s sanity or lack thereof before Dragonmount is a strong vote in favour if It’s Complicated).

Of, course, then there’s the whole issue of ‘how long can you stay sane when the entire world is waiting for you to go mad’ but that is, perhaps, a moot point now.

“Maybe he heard that Elaida was gone,” Siuan said, “and thought that he would be safe here, with an old friend on the Amyrlin Seat.”

Oh no this already hurts. Honestly I think any reference to Rand and Egwene as old friends is probably going to, at this point, but also the way Siuan goes to this idea of Rand needing a place of safety. A refuge. Because in so many ways, for a very long time, she wouldn’t even have been wrong. It’s just that it wasn’t an option and there was no such place and the Dragon Reborn couldn’t afford that kind of weakness, and anyway he was never looking for safety for himself; it was keeping others safe from him that he wanted, back when he was just a shepherd boy holding himself together with determination and fragments of Warder instruction against power(s) trying to claim him from within and without.

But Siuan is remembering that boy, and I’m also remembering Rand in the early days at the Stone of Tear, trying so earnestly to let Elayne and Egwene help him with saidin, and how that, from a certain perspective, is not really so different from trying to find some safety in friends.

“Reports call him mistrustful and erratic, with a demanding temper and an insistence on avoiding Aes Sedai.”

I mean, up until – what, a day ago at most? That would be not at all inaccurate. Especially from the outside.

Really I think this whole scene with Siuan and Saerin is largely to remind us of how Rand comes across to the rest of the world. Because the thing about that Dragonmount epiphany – a crucial part of it, but one that is likely going to also result in some complications – is that it was unwitnessed. Just Rand, alone, thinking. And if the cleansing of saidin was difficult to believe by those not directly involved (and even by some of those who were), how much harder will this be, in its own way?

And just to set the scene even more ominously as far as anyone but the reader is concerned, the floor tiles are now the colour (and sheen, and probably texture, and very possibly actual chemical composition) of blood.

It is interesting to contrast the feeling of approaching this meeting to how it felt in the buildup to Rand’s meeting with Tuon last book. That was just full to the brim of impending doom, of ‘there is no possible way under the sun that this will end well’, of ‘oh no, how disastrously is this going to go?’ because at that point Rand was in freefall and the only certainty was disaster. Now, there’s a sense of lightness in approaching this meeting. I mean, I’m still quite sure it’ll hurt me, but the actual tension is different. It feels like waiting for catharsis, almost, rather than waiting for catastrophe.

So hey, maybe we just look at that meeting with Tuon as a practice run for Rand in terms of how to negotiate treaties with a woman who controls a decent part of a continent. If nothing else, it set the bar about as low as it could possibly be, so this can only be an improvement!

Siuan had harboured a small hope that she herself would be chosen [as Keeper]. Now Egwene had so many demands on her time – and was becoming so capable on her own – that she was relying on Siuan less and less.

That was a good thing. But it was also infuriating.

Oh, Siuan. Siuan’s thoughts about her position in the Tower and how it has changed are always a little sad to read. She’s so strong that it’s easy, almost, to forget just how much she’s gone through – and she can’t even just put it behind her and move on because she’s surrounded, every single day, by constant reminders of all she has lost and all that has changed. And even so, we only get these occasional moments of sadness or bitterness or frustration from her. The rest of the time she just… keeps going.

She wanted to do what she’d set out to do, all those years before with Moiraine.

It really is kind of incredible dedication to a cause. Even if ‘shepherding’ the Dragon Reborn is perhaps not really what is needed, she has paved so much of the way, and even from the sidelines has been instrumental, and this has been more or less her entire adult life. A thankless and often punishing task, one that has gone and will likely continue to go largely unacknowledged, one that has brought her hatred and suspicion and pain, and yet she does not question it, does not falter.

It's… I guess in a way it comes back to the whole idea of those who choose vs those who are chosen, but I like the way we see these characters who aren’t the Chosen One but who still give everything they are, and everything they have, to this world and this cause. Some because they must and some because they choose to and some for reasons in between but it’s again this sense that while Rand stands at the centre of it, there are all these other stories and sacrifices and triumphs and tragedies spiralling out from that centre, all weaving together into this pattern. Or Pattern, as it were.

Also, I would like to strongly second the ‘with Moiraine’ part of that sentence. Can we have her back yet please? I’ve been good, I promise!

Bryne’s here too, which means I also get to reminisce about the first (and last) time he met Rand, even before Siuan did, but another scene of Rand as little more than a shepherd, uncertain and afraid and getting by on determination alone and yet, as with his meeting with Siuan, still surprising those around him by being just a little more than expected.

(As for Rand’s first meeting with Egwene, we have no textual evidence but given their ages it probably involved eating mud).

“You came faster than I’d assumed you’d be able to,” she said.

That is, quite literally, what she said. I’m sorry, I’m twelve.

“She’s what we need now,” Bryne said, “but you’re what we needed then. You did well, Siuan.”

YOU DID WELL

I’m sorry, Moiraine’s letter to Rand really just loaded all variants of that phrase quite heavily and it’s not Moiraine saying it to Siuan but it may as well be, and to have anyone looking at all she has done and all she has been through, looking at someone most Aes Sedai now dismiss as inconsequential at best and to blame for their problems at worst, and actually seeing everything she’s achieved and everything she’s sacrificed and to just acknowledge it outright is… such a small phrase but it means so much. Because how many others would say that? How many others could? So few even know what she’s done and why and for how long. Egwene, maybe, but Egwene is still in some ways her protégé and so not really in a position to give that kind of praise. Moiraine, but she’s still… on holiday. And that’s really kind of it.

There’s a reason these kinds of tasks are called thankless.

“He’s standing below, watched over by at least a hundred Warders and twenty-six sisters – two full circles. Undoubtedly he’s shielded”

My first thought was ‘good thing this is Rand after Dragonmount otherwise I don’t think there’d be a Tower right now’, but then, Rand before Dragonmount would probably quite literally not have been caught dead within balefire distance of the White Tower.

Whereas now… what a stark difference this highlights in his entire mindset and character. Once, the possibility of thirteen Aes Sedai sent him away from a city he was holding, tense and desperate and furious. Once, being shielded was – well, I believe the direct quote was ‘Lews Therin fled screaming’. Once, Aes Sedai so much as touching the One Power in his presence without his permission was like dancing on a minefield.

Now… he stands calmly, shielded and within the Tower itself, the stronghold of the Aes Sedai, of his own free will (and that’s it, isn’t it; that’s what truly makes all the difference in so many ways).

Also a bit of a random comparison but I can’t help but be reminded of Taim walking into Caemlyn to claim Rand’s amnesty, guarded and distrusted and hated by pretty much everyone around him and yet appearing, himself, all but unaffected by it.

“Well, what did he look like, then?”

“Honestly, Siuan? He looked like an Aes Sedai.”

Well. Lews Therin was. In an even older sense of the title.

And if we’re looking at the title itself, and its meaning… servant of all is sort of in the job description of a messiah figure, in a way.

I like how we’re reminded that, because of her Talent for seeing ta’veren, Rand literally glows to Siuan’s eyes. Which means the Dragon Reborn, the chosen one, the saviour, having now fully embraced his role, is walking into the Tower literally haloed in light. There’s just a tiny bit of religious symbolism here, is what I’m getting at.

I also – for all that I’m still hoping for a glimpse of Rand through Egwene’s eyes – am very very happy with the choice to show this through Siuan’s POV. Because in so many ways it is a reflection of that scene in TGH where he is summoned to the Amyrlin, and she gets her first look at the boy who will be the Dragon but does not yet know it, and tells him what his role will be, and he surprises her in his stubbornness and strength but still does not truly accept what she says.

Now, we get the Dragon Reborn calling for an audience with the Amyrlin, having finally and truly embraced the full reality of that role. The first was, in a way, to set his path. This, then, feels almost like closing it. And in between those bookends was that long, fraught journey towards acceptance.

Me? Obsessed with symmetry and reflection in a narrative? Never.

She froze as he met her eyes. There was something indefinable about them, a weight, an age. As though the man behind them was seeing through the light of a thousand lives compounded into one. His face did look like that of an Aes Sedai. Those eyes, at least, had agelessness.

This is one of the things I just absolutely love about outsider POV: the way it allows you to almost re-experience the full weight of what you already know. To be able to almost… soft-reset, and then open your eyes and have the impact of it all over again. None of this is news, really, to a reader who has seen Rand atop Dragonmount, or even in the first chapter of this book. But we get it again anyway, because for one thing it’s fun and for another it just serves to highlight what he looks like to one who does not have the privilege of being in his head (not that that’s… a particularly exclusive list these days, but that’s beside the point).

And it’s also interesting how this doesn’t humanise Rand in the perception of others – he’s still very much in the position of being seen more as a force of nature than a person – but the tone and the effect are so very different to before, for instance when he was lost or in pain or just desperate (or all of the above) and yet perceived as arrogant, inhuman, even monstrous. There’s still this sense of… not being seen as just a person, being seen more in the heroic lines and angles of power and weight of legend, but the difference, I think, is that Rand himself accepts it now. It is now a part of who he is, and a part of him he accepts, and embraces, and steps willingly into.

It also gives him some rather extraordinary weight of personality so making his way through a crowd of Warders is a piece of cake. See, sometimes being the chosen one has its benefits.

“And Siuan Sanche. You’ve changed since we last met.”

Oh. Okay yeah the fact that we get him saying this to her, rather than the other way around, is a really, really excellent way of just subtly shifting the entire balance of power – not even quite power; something else I can’t think of a good word for – of the scene.

It's the way it takes the way this scene is so neatly set up to be a bookend of that first meeting between them, and just… flips the obvious line on its axis. It’s still there, we’re still on script, but it’s ever so slightly not what you expect, and that difference itself becomes the point. Because Rand is no longer the object of the scene; he is very much its subject. The assignment of agency and proactivity has shifted (he has chosen, now, rather than been chosen; a semantic shift that makes perhaps literally all the difference in the world), and this is just a really cool way to play with that.

If that made any sense.

“You once took an arrow for me. Did I thank you for that?”

This… this gentleness is absolutely killing me and we’re only a few lines into his actual appearance in this chapter. The way it’s no longer forced, or agonised, or desperate, or serving only as a sharp contrast to either anger or apathy to remind you of who he once was. Instead it’s just… there. Without brittleness or the aching sense of something lost. There’s just a weird kind of beauty in the simplicity of this, in how it’s just… him, without any of the hundred things waiting to shatter beneath that statement.

Maybe that’s it; the gentleness that doesn’t feel like the precursor to shattering glass. The way this isn’t a veiled threat, or a barb, or a forced admission, or a conversational gambit. Just thanks, remembered honestly and offered freely and that’s… it.

(Moiraine once took a Forsaken for you, Rand. Be sure to thank her for that too).

Anyway, Siuan sings Egwene’s praises as Amyrlin, of course, and apparently everything Rand says or does in this chapter is going to just get me because:

He smiled again. “I should have expected nothing less. Strange, but I feel that seeing her again will hurt, though that is one wound that has well and truly healed. I can still remember the pain of it, I suppose.”

Again it’s just the gentleness that pervades all of this, where once there was turmoil and pain and a rage in him fit to burn the world, or else terrifying coldness and absence and a distant voice screaming. It’s like everything has finally fallen silent and only then do you realise how loud everything was before, and how maddening. Just… Rand being able to smile simply, and feel and express emotions in the normal human range.

And that sense of… wonder, almost, that you get from him at that fact. It’s—there is very much a rebirth kind of feel to a lot of this, because a part of it is that Rand is very, very aware of where he has just come from and where he stands now. That’s the whole point: to get to this, he had to choose it and realise it and open his eyes, I suppose. And so now he’s seeing everything through that new filter (or perhaps without the noise of the old one) and there’s a kind of beautiful simplicity and something like but also entirely unlike innocence to it.

Tiana has a letter for him with a red seal… one of Verin’s, maybe? If so, Rand sure has a track record with Aes Sedai and letters left to him. She did have several, when we saw her with Mat… and I struggle to think of who else would have left one. Cadsuane, maybe?

“Do your best to calm Egwene when I am done,” he said to Siuan. Then he took a deep breath and strode forward

CHILDREN. ALL OF THEM. That, right there, for probably the first time this book, is absolutely 100% a glimpse of Rand al’Thor, Woolheaded Sheepherder, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Wise, gentle, reconciled to his role, remembering his past life and accepting who he is… and still taking a deep breath and making contingency plans before going to a stubborn-off with his former childhood sweetheart. I’m laughing.

OH IT’S EGWENE, WE DO GET TO SEE THIS IN EGWENE’S POV, YES THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED.

This was not Rand al’Thor, friend of her childhood, the man she’d assumed she’d one day marry.

Oh no, just start right out with a gut-punch why don’t you. No, Egwene, he is.

Except… he also isn’t, and that’s the sad part. But if this is to work, I still think that’s going to be the key: that they know—knew—each other as people. Except now Egwene is deliberately telling herself not to do that, and while it’s understandable it’s… that way lies the end of the Second Age.

No. This man was the Dragon Reborn. The most dangerous man ever to draw breath.

This hurts me in exactly the way I was hoping it would.

Just as Rand has finally accepted himself, and in some ways come back to himself (not quite, because you can’t go back you can only go forwards as the Wheel of Time turns, but he’s no longer forcing everything about who he was away), Egwene is forcing herself to see him as anything but that. As just the Dragon Reborn, legend and monster and saviour and destroyer. It’s a perfect mis-alignment of timings.

(Egwene is steeling herself, just as Rand has finally stopped trying to become steel).

“Egwene,” Rand said

IT’S! ABOUT! THE NAMES!

She’s thinking of him, emphatically, as the Dragon Reborn… but the dialogue tag betrays her. We are in her POV and as soon as he speaks, he is Rand.

And the first word he says is her name. Not ‘Mother’ or ‘Amyrlin’, not the opening of some request or demand. Just… ‘Egwene’.

He is the Dragon Reborn, come to see the Amyrlin—he asked for the Amyrlin—and she is the Amyrlin steeling herself to face the Dragon Reborn and yet in the first moment, when that silence of waiting is broken, they are Rand and Egwene and—

I just. Maybe I’m reading too much into this but it’s perfect and it hurts and I love it.

(Names are important).

He nodded to her, as if in respect. “You have done your part, I see. The Amyrlin’s stole fits you well.”

WHY DOES THIS HURT ME? WHY AM I EXPERIENCING AN EMOTION?

They’ve both just come so far and through so much and they hardly even know one another anymore, and there’s this almost-but-not-quite uncertainty and almost-but-not-quite familiarity, and yet it feels not like the anticipation before an ‘everything goes wrong’ moment but instead the anticipation of… maybe, finally, finding their way back to something? Or forwards, I suppose. It’s like the tentative formality of meeting someone for the first time in years, unsure of them and of yourself and of everything that’s happened in the interim but there’s something weirdly hopeful about it.

Maybe I’m just so used to liveblogging pain that I don’t know what to do with myself when it’s not there, except in echoes and memories and all the space that has grown between them, but this is like… a hand offered across that intervening space.

From what she had heard of Rand recently, she had not anticipated such calm in him.

I mean. That’s… fair.

Well, or she might have been led to anticipate a very different kind of calm. The calm of ice or cuendillar that could in an instant become, you know, balefiring an entire fortress out of existence.

Maybe save your musings on whether or not he’s a criminal for whatever passes as a Geneva Convention in this world, Egwene. We don’t have time to unpack all of that right now.

“What has happened to you?” she found herself asking as she leaned forward on the Amyrlin Seat.

“I was broken,” Rand said, hands behind his back. “And then, remarkably, I was reforged. I think he almost had me, Egwene.”

HELP.

THIS IS JUST.

I… wow. What do I even do with this?

Just as the first word out of his mouth was her name, and her first thought of him was as Rand… now, despite sitting on the Amyrlin Seat—which we are quite literally reminded of here, and I don’t think that’s accidental—her first words are… call it concern, call it curiosity, call it demand, call it accusation even, but that’s not Amyrlin to Dragon Reborn there. That’s not the opening of negotiations or a summons or a meeting. That’s Egwene, looking at Rand. It’s like Nynaeve in TFoH reaching for him almost instinctively and saying ‘at least let me Heal you’.

And then Rand’s response!

‘I was broken’. Such a simple statement for so, so much more. And yet… that’s what it is. It’s the simplicity, again, that gets me. The simplicity and the self-awareness and the way he can look at it now, with that sense of removal, but this time not because he’s walled himself off from the pain; instead, he lets himself feel it but he has accepted its reason and its source and its necessity. He’s no longer fighting against himself, and that lets him bear so much more, because so much of that pain came from that battle against himself, and from the fear of what he might become.

He spent so long trying to forge himself into steel, but in the end that’s not the reforging he needed. And now he knows that, and sees it, and there’s just something about a character who can stand on the far side of their own breaking and their own agony and speak of it calmly, whole.

It's just an entire situation I’m having here.

And that last bit. ‘I think he almost had me’. The memory of ‘it is HIM’. And the fact that Rand can see that too, now; can see how close he came to the Shadow without ever turning from the Light, and understand that nuance.

But also… there is still one very glaring loose end there: Rand has used the True Power. Sure, he doesn’t seem particularly… uh… compromised by that at this point, but I still just cannot imagine that won’t be brought back in some way.

He spoke differently. There was a formality to his words that she didn’t recognise.

And then it’s lines like this that keep this scene from being… to perfect? Not in terms of execution, but in terms of ‘things going well and painlessly for characters’. Because there is still a sadness to this, to Rand and Egwene looking at one another (and naming one another!) and seeing the person behind the role, and looking for the person they knew, and yet also still seeing elements of a stranger.

Because they have changed. Neither of them is at all the child they were when they left Emond’s Field, and there is so much between them now, and that connection they have is worn and thinned and this isn’t a joyful reunion. There’s catharsis here, and a tentative possibility of peace or friendship, but there’s also this recognition, each to each, of how much of what used to be is now gone. They’ve both been hardened and shaped by their experiences and they both know it and recognise it in each other—perhaps in part because they both also very clearly by this point recognise it in themselves.

“Why have you come before the Amyrlin Seat?” she asked.

And now we get the opening of Amyrlin-to-Dragon. But that’s not where we began. We began with Rand and Egwene, and I’ll shut up about it in a minute but this whole play of naming and identity is one of those little things that gets me pretty much every time it turns up in a story.

“I’ve hated you before,” Rand said, turning back to Egwene.

I’M FINE! THIS IS FINE!

Yes I am quoting pretty much every line of dialogue in this scene but LISTEN, IT HURTS ME.

The thing is, this is a statement utterly without malice. It’s not a threat or an insult—not even the childish sort of insult they might have exchanged last time they met. It’s… really, the only word that comes to mind is a confession.

Which plays into one of the features of Rand’s character that stands out so far in the brief moments we’ve seen him in this book: genuine self-knowledge, and self-knowledge that he fully accepts. There is no longer any remnant of denial.

And that allows him to make statements like this and have them come across as, weirdly, almost benevolent. Nothing he has said is said with the intent to deceive, or to wound, or even really to manipulate. It’s just truth—and truth that he himself fully understands and accepts now.

So he’s not fighting against her out of fear of being caught up in Aes Sedai strings, just as he’s not fighting against Lews Therin’s memories out of fear of being caught up in Kinslayer’s fate. Instead of fighting against everything up to and including himself, he’s just… him.

“It occurs to me that I’ve been trying too hard.”

That’s exactly it. He’s been fighting, when in some ways what he needed was to learn how (and where, and when) to surrender. Though even ‘surrender’ connotes a struggle or a conflict, and I think a lot of this realisation is that it’s not about fighting or forcing or struggling; it’s about accepting, and guiding, and leading. And choosing, of course.

“A fear that the acts I accomplished would be yours, and not my own.” He hesitated. “I should have wished for such a convenient set of backs upon which to heap the blame for my crimes.”

Wow. Okay, that’s… a line.

Um.

Damn.

It’s almost ironic, the way he instead tried to heap all the responsibility on himself and take all that blame and pain, and let it damn him and in doing so tried to pretend it freed him to act as he needed, no longer held back by such trivial concerns as humanity and his own conscience or sense of redeemability. But ultimately it came down to the same thing, in a way: an inability to accept what he was doing, and so trying to find a place to put all that pain.

(Or, as Lews Therin once advised, ‘If it hurts too much, make it hurt someone else instead’).

But now he sees that, too, and so instead of trying to escape the pain or treat it as ‘I’m damned either way so may as well burn it all’, he understands his responsibility but in a more… balanced way, I suppose.

The Dragon Reborn had come to the White Tower to engage in idle philosophy

Moridin? That you?

I do sort of wonder, because I’m me, what impact, if any, Rand’s epiphany might (or could; I don’t really expect the story to go there, much as I might wish it to) have on Moridin, given the link they share.

“Rand,” Egwene said, softening her tone.

And now we get the reflection of the names from the opening of this conversation! It’s about the names! It’s about the dialogue tags! It’s about identity and perception and that thread of friendship that still binds them and might in the end be enough to save them from their predecessors’ fate!

“I’m going to have some sisters talk to you to decide if there is anything… wrong with you. Please try to understand.”

I mean you could not have phrased that less tactfully if you tried, Egwene, but it is kind of understandable. We may know full well that there’s less wrong with Rand now than there has been at pretty much any point since the start of the series, but how in the Light would anyone else be able to be sure of that? He’s certainly not acting like the Rand Egwene once knew, or even the Rand she last saw. Nor is he behaving like the Rand from whatever reports she’s received.

And yes, while I think the world waiting and watching for him to go mad hurt far more than it helped, there’s also the fact that that is what everyone and their mother expects—because up until what, a few months ago, that was inevitable.

So then in walks the Dragon Reborn, acting like… well, this, and what else are you going to do? A bit like the cleansing of saidin, as a reader you want all the other characters to just take it on faith, but the rather sad irony of Rand’s position is that his own word is the one no one is entirely sure they can trust. And the only one here who can vouch for him is himself. Elayne or Aviendha or Min might be able to, but none of them is nearby, and also that bond’s been kept pretty quiet.

So anyway. Yeah, I can see where she’s coming from on that.

To his credit, so can Rand.

“Oh, I do understand, Egwene. And I am sorry to deny you, but I have too much to do.”

There’s the woolheaded sheepherder again. He’s smiling here, and I am quite sure this is a bit of the old Rand dropping by to say hello and needle Egwene just a bit, because that’s what they do.

“A friend rides to his death without allies.”

HE NAMED YOU FRIEND. AND NOW YOU REMEMBER HIM. THIS IS FINE I’M FINE EVERYTHING’S FINE.

“This is the part I regret. I did not wish to come into your centre of power, which you have achieved so well, and defy you. But it cannot be helped. You must know what my plans are so that you can prepare.”

To be able to say that without so much as the hit of a threat in it is… quite a power move, I have to say. Because even here, I think he’s still just being absolutely and even benevolently honest. He doesn’t want to undermine her. He doesn’t even really want to challenge her. He understands where she’s coming from – which itself puts us so, so far from where he was just days ago, that he can meet her uncertainty and suspicion and say ‘okay yeah, that’s fair’.

And if he had time, I wonder if he might actually agree to that particular request.

But he doesn’t have time. Which brings us to the other extraordinary part of this statement: willingly offering up communication. Just. Straight up saying ‘you need to know my plans’. Mark this date in your calendars, friends: a Wheel of Time character just offered, unprompted, voluntarily, to share their plans with another character, so that they can prepare.

I am astonished.

“The last time I tried to seal the Bore”

You know, just the other day.

“I believe that saidin and saidar must both be used.”

I think he’s absolutely right there—it’s a part of what I love about Rand and Egwene, childhood friends for all that they’ve grown apart, holding the roles that they do; the idea that this bond between them, strained as it is, could allow them to do what Lews Therin and Latra Posae could not—but I also… he shall hold a blade of light in his hands, and the three shall be one. I just… wonder.

Egwene leaned forward, studying him. There didn’t seem to be madness in his eyes. She knew those eyes. She knew Rand.

YES!

THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED! That she sees him. Looks past the Dragon Reborn, past her role as Amyrlin, and for a moment she is just Egwene looking at Rand and it is by nature such a simple thing—stripping away everything but that simple identity—but it’s also the thing that can give them a chance to do it differently this time. This chance of understanding, this one small thing that could tip them towards cooperation and trust rather than letting them turn away from each other or fall apart.

Light, she thought, I’m wrong. I can’t think of him only as the Dragon Reborn. I’m here for a reason. He’s here for a reason. To me, he must be Rand. Because Rand can be trusted, while the Dragon Reborn must be feared.

Maybe it’s very Sanderson to have this stated outright, but I’m not even going to complain, because it’s… perfect. To allow, in the end, trust and friendship and who they are rather than purely what they are come into it as well, even just in some small way, to bridge that gap. It’s what Lews Therin and Latra Posae couldn’t do, but Rand and Egwene have a chance to try again.

I just… have been spinning around on this EXACT CONCEPT for, I don’t know, several books now, and to see it playing out so plainly here is everything I want and I am never going to be okay again in my life.

“Which are you?” she whispered unconsciously.

He heard. “I am both, Egwene. I remember him. Lews Therin. I can see his entire life, every desperate moment. I see it like a dream, but a clear dream. My own dream. It’s part of me.”

It’s a nice touch, that he speaks of it as a dream, to the one who understands dreams so well.

It’s also just a lot, to have gone from ‘so many parts of him, mind splintered in glittering shards, all of them screaming’ to ‘sorrows and his own suicide’ to a clear dream he accepts as a part of himself. The pain and desperation of it are still there, but he’s no longer fighting them, because he no longer sees it as something he’s bound to. It’s just a part of who he is, but it doesn’t have to define what he will be.

I also like this because Egwene was one of the first to notice him speaking to a voice in his mind. And now she gets this, just an honest and accepting response. It seems fitting, somehow.

The words were those of a madman, but they were spoken evenly. She looked at him, and remembered the youth that he had been. The earnest young man. Not solemn like Perrin, but not wild like Mat. Solid, straightforward. The type of man you could trust with anything.

Even the fate of the world.

THAT’S IT THAT’S IT RIGHT THERE. If they did not know each other, this could be an impasse. Not as disastrous as Rand’s meeting with Tuon, perhaps, because he’s a little… uh… less omnicidal at this particular moment, but likely just as unsuccessful. An Amyrlin who could not trust the Dragon, and a Dragon who could not afford to give her the assurances she needed, and so two powers working in parallel but separately, almost in opposition.

But she knows him. And it’s the youth he had been—it is LITERALLY THE MEMORY OF A SHEPHERD NAMED RAND AL’THOR, the echo of one of my favourite quotes—that tips the balance the other way this time.

It’s Rand. The boy he tried for so long to destroy, because to be him hurt too much.

And I also really love how it isn’t about some Grand True Love between them that does it. They were childhood sweethearts, sure, but the love between them is that of friends, of a shared childhood, of something very much like family. And I like that there’s this implicit importance and weight placed on that; that in its way it’s as crucial to this moment as the ‘veins of gold’ were on Dragonmount

This is what Latra Posae and Lews Therin had. And so instead it falls to Egwene and Rand, to learn from their mistakes, and do what they could not. It is what Rand realised on Dragonmount, and what he is playing out now. A chance to try again.

And it’s because he’s Rand that that’s possible. It’s not Lews Therin, or the Dragon Reborn (but it is also both of those, because he is both of those).

“In one month’s time,” Rand said, “I’m going to travel to Shayol Ghul and break the last remaining seals on the Dark One’s prison. I want your help.”

Well. I mean. Okay. Points for honest and straightforward communication, I suppose. I love that he just walks into the Tower and drops this on her like a grenade, though. It amuses me.

Ah, so she thinks the crystal sphere in her dream represents the seals or the prison as well.

“Rand, no”

Rand: Rand yes!

Sorry, couldn’t help myself.

“I’m going to need you, all of you”

Rand openly admitting to needing anyone or anything, and again just as a statement rather than a threat or an angry demand, is another thing that’s new and kind of refreshing.

“I hope to the Light that this time, you will give me your support.”

Rand to Egwene, remembering Lews Therin to Latra Posae. And if everyone is someone reborn, who’s to say she isn’t? (I’m not… really sure whether I’d want that to be true or not, so I suppose it’s nice that it’s not stated one way or the other, at least up to this point. But it could be a fun one to play with). Either way, those very much are the roles they’re echoing, and I swear I’ll shut up about this but I still just love how, so closely following Rand’s realisation on Dragonmount, we get to actually watch that kind of chance-to-try-again play out. A chance to work together, rather than apart.

“And then… well, then we will discuss my terms.”

Ah well, I suppose it was too much to hope for him to communicate the whole plan right now. Baby steps and all that.

Also, you know, narrative choices and the need to keep at least something back.

“Your terms?” Egwene demanded. “You will see,” he said, turning as if to leave.

So… the way it’s framed puts us into very slightly antagonistic (and much more familiar) territory of lack of communication and demands and terms.

But I wonder what terms he’s referring to, because there is a nonzero probability that he’s talking about Callandor here. In which case, it’s not entirely impossible that the terms he’s referring to are, in effect, those of his own surrender.

I could be wrong. I very probably am. But it’s… an interesting possibility to consider. And it would be kind of fitting, in a way, for that to be the uncommunicated and therefore misunderstood thing here.

Turns out ‘the Amyrlin’s Anger’ is Egwene just shouting at her childhood friend ‘don’t you turn your back on me when I’m talking to you, Rand al’Thor’ and Rand turning back like a boy who tracked mud into the house. I love them, I really do.

“We must talk about this,” she said. “Plan.”

“That is why I came to you. To let you plan.”

He seemed amused.

Oh, he’s absolutely amused. Part of him still is the boy you knew, and this is honestly just classic Rand-and-Egwene, for all that it’s also on an entirely different level. They antagonise one another: it’s what they do. But I don’t think there’s true anger here, on either side. And again, that is what could save them. That ‘anger’ between them is… this, rather than that snapping of tension and dropping of any possibility of a truce and turning immediately to planning their next moves, all thought of alliance or restraint over, between Rand and Tuon.

Anyway. The other thing here is that… it’s easy to be exasperated with Egwene, because just listen to Rand, he’s sane now damn it, and he’s almost certainly right about the seals.

But honestly? In her position? Knowing what she knows—and not knowing all the things she doesn’t know, like the actual state of Rand’s mind—it’s hard to fault her for pushing back on this. He walks in, says he’s fine and that he remembers a dead man’s entire life and also that they need to break the prison of the embodiment of entropy and chaos and evil, okay bye!

Like. As Amyrlin, it’s her job to say ‘okay, right, I’m with you, but also what the fuck’. It would be irresponsible not to.

Of course… I get the impression Rand knows that, too. And is, perhaps, counting on it. He came to her to let her plan, and he doesn’t seem surprised or upset by the fact that she doesn’t just immediately say ‘okay cool when do we start’, and he has a certain respect for the position she holds.

I think it’s entirely possible this is what he wants from her. For her to plan. Because he doesn’t have time to. And because, just as she looks at him and sees someone she can trust with the fate of the world, he looks at her and sees someone he can trust with planning and logistics and getting the Aes Sedai to get themselves where he needs them. A kind of ‘this is what I’m going to do, now do whatever it is you need to do because I don’t need to micromanage and I also don’t have time to, okay see you at Tarmon Gai’don’.

“And so here we come to it,” Rand said.

Yeah, he saw this coming.

“Egwene al’Vere, Watcher of the Seals, Flame of Tar Valon, may I have your permission to withdraw?”

He asked it so politely. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not.

The thing is, I really don’t think he is. It’s like how earlier he said he didn’t want to come into her place of power and undermine her. He’s giving her, I think, an honest gesture with genuine respect. Because now, at peace with himself as he is, it costs him nothing to do so. She is not his enemy, and I do think his respect for her is honest, and I think he still cares about her as a friend, and what does he lose by giving her a small bow and her titles and the opportunity to grant him permission to leave?

And of course Egwene is conflicted, because on the one hand she can’t keep him here like Elaida tried to, but on the other hand…

“I will not let you break the seals,” she said. “That is madness.”

“Then meet me at the place known as the Field of Merrilor, just to the north. We will talk before I go to Shayol Ghul. For now, I do not want to defy you, Egwene. But I must go.’

Ah. And so we have a battleground.

As for the rest… well. It’s not quite accord, but nor is it disaster. It’s not even quite a true impasse. There’s tension now, sure, but it’s a) not even in the same hemisphere as as bad as it would have been if Rand hadn’t had some alone time on a mountain to think, literally, about his life choices and b) not insurmountable.

And c) I still think there’s a very real chance this is all Rand actually needed or wanted out of this. Egwene now knows his plan and his timing and the battleground, and she can take care of the rest.

It’s almost—gasp—as if Rand al’Thor, Dragon Reborn, has truly learned to delegate.

The chamber was still enough for Egwene to hear the faint breeze making the rose window groan it its lead.

The wind, for Rand, against the rose, for the Aes Sedai. (Also, listen, I have not forgotten that Eldrene was the Rose of the Sun).

“Very well,” Egwene said. “But this is not ended, Rand.”

“There are no endings, Egwene.”

IT’S! ABOUT! THE NAMES!

They talk a big game about each other’s titles, and wonder if they’re really the person they each once knew, but they both open and closes with nothing but each other’s names, and it means absolutely everything.

Also, that’s… really not a bad outcome. Honestly, this could have been so much worse. Anger? Try ‘okay um that’s unexpected and I’m still not sure you’re not insane but…sure. Okay’.

Which really is all you need, right? It’s agreement with a bit of hesitation, and at this stage in the game that’s a damn victory.

Again, I can’t help but contrast it with that absolute catastrophe at Falme, and compared to that? This is just friends sticking their tongues out at each other on the way out. Rand knows he can count on Egwene to be there, at least. Will she agree with him when she arrives? Who knows. But that’s a problem for another time. For now, he at least knows she’ll go, and that’s all he can ask. And he can leave the rest of the planning in her hands.

And she knows what he’s planning, and knows he wants her as an ally, and can therefore make said plans.

I don’t think this is ended either, and I’m sure there’s plenty of potential conflict to come, but this was, all things considered, really kind of impressive in its lack of explosions.

(Also, ‘there are no endings’. Now who’s giving Aes Sedai answers, Rand? As well as probably spoilers for the last line of the series. Rude.)

Oh, interesting. So Rand’s ta’veren hyperdrive powers pretty much literally froze all the other Aes Sedai in place. Because this needed to be a meeting between Rand and Egwene. Because of their roles, yes, but also because of that thread of connection they still share. And so it had to be the two of them, because that was the only chance of this working at all.

Egwene frowned. She hadn’t felt it that way. Perhaps because she thought of him as Rand.

I… yeah. Because that’s what he needed: to have this conversation with someone who could see him. Even then, it barely came out to something almost resembling accord. They needed that small weight on the scales, to have that chance. And so she was free, because it was the Dragon Reborn, and not Rand, who was holding the others silent, in a way.

Or at least that’s how I’m reading this because it plays into my entire thing for names and identity and perception, and the importance thereof.

“We need to discuss his words. The Hall of the Tower will reconvene in one hour’s time for discussion.”

Which, really, is exactly what they need to be doing. Now they have the information, and they can figure out… a battle plan, I suppose. Okay. We’re there now. We have a place and a time (this place, this day, which of course is followed by the lesser sadness, yes I remember sequences of chapter titles why are you looking at me like that) and the beginnings of a plan. I’m… it’s been five years and I’m not entirely ready for this.

“And someone follow to make sure he really leaves.”

You’re just afraid he’ll find some way to prank you on his way out, don’t lie.

“Then how? How do we stop him?”

That, Silviana, is not the question you need to be asking. I mean, I get it. I really do. And I’m not sure how they could not think that, at least initially. But… the time for working against each other’s aims, when you are all on the same side, is over.

“We need allies,” Egwene said.

Which, again, I think is precisely the point. That is something it makes absolute sense for Rand to delegate to the Amyrlin Seat, who has the power and the standing to gather allies and play the games of politics, and bring her portion of the Forces of the Light to… the Field of Merrilor, I suppose.

She took a deep breath. “He might be persuaded by people that he trusts.” Or he might be forced to change his mind if confronted by a large enough group united to stop him.

Oh, Egwene, no. You can’t be another Latra Posae.

But perhaps it would be too easy for this to actually just be their only not-quite-conflict. I still think it was more a success than a failure, all told, and I stand by everything I said about the importance of their friendship in letting them see each other, but I think we’re looking at one final testing of that, before the end.

Next (ToM ch 4) Previous (ToM ch 2)

#the. NAMES!#i'm fine #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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callioope · 4 years

Text

@twiceihavelived prompted me on Dreamwidth last year:

Didn't I just read that you were taking prompts for your birthday? Maybe I'll prompt you this: Cassian and Jyn were both trained by the best, they just didn't realize that what they were learning ran in the family (Cassian is trained by Steela, Jyn by Saw. They only find out after Scarif). (Feel free to write this only if you wish, you will not hurt my feelings if I missed the prompting!)

I am so sorry for the wait! Thank you for the prompt and thank you for your patience. This was a fantastic prompt. Definitely the story I’d been looking for at the time (oof, I see this prompt came just after I finished watching the Onderon arc in The Clone Wars, wow). I do so love the idea of sharpshooter!Steela training Cassian.

You know, I claimed my word limit for these was supposed to be 1,500. Well this is only 500 more than that O:-) Oops. I got carried away. Actually no. This is the prompt I cheated on. My friend Andy prompted me to use the word “droop” in a story (a tribute to a beloved NPC in one of our D&D games whose name is Droop. we used to call ourselves Droop’s Troup). So I used the word here. So. Justification. It’s two-in-one so of course it’s longer. *awkward laugh* *sweats*

anyways here we go

“And what about you, Jyn?” Bodhi says, a quiet, contented smile on his face as he collects a mouthful of meat, vegetables, and rice onto his fork.

Cassian and Jyn had gone to great lengths to find the closest ingredients to Jedhan cuisine they could. But it had been Baze who’d overseen it’s preparation. For once, he’d commandeered the position as master chef from Cassian and had taken a surprising amount of joy directing the rest of them about the kitchen. Even he had been excited to share the traditional fare of a particularly special Jedhan holiday.

“Hmm?” Jyn stuffs her own forkful into her mouth. She knows exactly what Bodhi is asking.

“What traditions run in your family?”

Annoyance flares in her heart. Bodhi knew Galen. He should know — she doesn’t have an answer. But it’s Bodhi, and he always means well. Which means he doesn’t know. She chews slowly.

The problem is, Jyn never even knew she was missing anything until she’d had to confront it every day on Home One, as thousands of beings across the galaxy mingled around her. All of them hailed from different regions, different planets, different cultures and traditions.

She’d once glimpsed General Syndulla’s Kalikori during a mission debriefing in her small office. Sabine Wren’s armor spoke enough of Mandalorian tradition on its own, but she’d also covered it with all kinds of symbols, colors, and pictures that no doubt held some kind of special meaning. And just two weeks ago, Cara Dune had attended that Alderaanian winter service Leia had held.

Jyn has lived on more planets in her twenty-two years than some people ever visit in a lifetime. But to achieve that kind of record, she’d never spent too much time in more than one place. She’d never had the time to adopt particular habits or rituals or palates. Sure, she had her favorite dish in every local cuisine, but no particular food tasted like home.

Especially not the homes that had preceded those planets. She doesn’t remember Coruscant, beyond fleeting memories of dancing characters in holovids and a sprawl of toys and papa carrying her to bed—

She does remember bits of Lah’mu: the feel of the salty, wet air in her face; the smell of grass; and mud-stained hands marching Stormie around through the dirt. And other things, of course.

But she doesn’t have traditions that stick. Did mama and papa celebrate any particular holidays? She doesn’t even remember (not until Cassian tells her, reads the info from her files) what planets her parents actually came from. She reads about the traditions there, but feels no connection or draw to any of the traditions or celebrations there. They don’t sound familiar.

She’s about to answer and gruffly admit she has none, when Cassian intercedes.

“What about Restoration Day?”

She shakes her head and her shoulders droop. It was nice of Cassian to try, but no, she’s not familiar with that either.

“It’s an Onderonian holiday,” he explains. “I thought Saw might have celebrated it.”

Onderon — a good try on his part. The jungle planet keeps cropping up between the two of them, and they hadn’t even noticed it at first.

It’d started with particular phrases, idioms that Jyn had always assumed were military vernacular, so it never surprised her to hear Cassian saying them, too. It also hadn’t surprised her that Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze didn’t recognize them. But Cara would occasionally look at her in incomprehension. She’d try them out around other soldiers, and while they might humor her, they never actually recognized them.

Finally, a particular curse word slipped out around Rex. He squinted at her. “Been awhile since I heard that,” he’d said. After a moment, he’d added, “You used to work with Saw Gerrera, didn’t you?”

She’d nodded, and he’d gone on to talk about the days he’d served on Onderon with Saw and his sister. She’d been all ears then, eager to hear of the sister Saw would barely speak of, let alone to.

“You never met her?” Rex had finally asked, and Jyn shook her head. As far as she could understand, their competing ideologies had clashed too much. They could never agree enough to work together, but their separation hurt him enough that he refused to talk about it with Jyn.

“Ah, well, she’d’ve loved you,” Rex said.

She’d never asked Cassian how he knew the words, but then, Cassian always seemed to know a little about everything, so she put it out of mind.

Until one day, when she’d caught some plague going around Home One, and the soup Cassian had made her tasted familiar. “What is this?” she’d asked, slurping a steaming spoonful. “I think I recognize it, but I can’t remember having it.”

“It’s called ‘King’s stew’,” he’d said. “It’s an Onderonian delicacy.”

And then she’d felt nine-years-old, sniffling and wrapped in raggedy blankets, perched on a cold bench and hunched over a bowl of warm soup that Saw had just placed in front of her.

“How do you know so much about Onderon, anyways?” she’d asked.

“I knew someone from there,” Cassian had answered, and she made a point never to pry about his past. He’d tell her, if he felt like talking, and besides, that soup was doing its magic and luring her to a restful sleep.

“Jyn?” Cassian asks and she shakes from the memory.

“Saw only celebrated battles won,” she says. And even then…

“But it is,” Cassian explains. “It’s the celebration of when they defeated the Separatist army during the Clone Wars. Not that they stayed free...” He looks down at his food and hesitates for a second before gathering himself. “But… my commander used to celebrate it as a — glimpse of hope. For something that had been achieved once before and could be achieved once again.”

“Sounds fitting,” Bodhi says.

Cassian nods, and then smiles. “Well, at the time, I mostly looked forward to the food. We never ate so much, usually. But our commander would cook up an entire spread.”

Jyn looks up in surprise as Cassian continues, listing all varieties of meat skewers, roasted vegetables, dips and spreads, palm fruits, specific spices that all sound familiar.

“Oh,” she says, when he’s finished. “We never made a big deal about it, but — yeah. Every now and then, not even every year, if we could, we’d have a nice feast. All those foods. And Saw used to say, when he broke the first roll, he used to say — “

“Blessings of the royal house of Unifar,” they say at the same time.

They both grin.

“When do we celebrate?” Chirrut asks.

Baze shakes his head. “We’re not even done with this celebration.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Bodh says. “To have — to look forward to something, again.”

“Well, we’ll need the time to gather all the supplies…”

It turns into a great way to pass the next three months. While out on missions, they idly shop for the appropriate seasonings and decorations. They’d done much the same before the Jedhan holiday, and while that had certainly felt special, this feels different to Jyn. Her Rogue One crew — they’re most certainly family, and there are traditions she’s happy to share with them. But there’s something about Restoration Day that sings a little in her heart. That feels distinctly like a part of the family she used to know, a family she misses despite the hardships they endured together.

It also, strangely, feels like something that belongs to both her and Cassian. He must have been close to that Onderonian woman, for him to carry so much of their culture to his heart.

“You know I hate to pry,” she starts, long into their feast.

They’re seated at one end of the long table, and most of the rest of their party — they’d invited many of their friends — are fully appreciating the effects of a rare Onderonian wine Han Solo (of all people) had managed to locate for them. Beside her, Bodhi is totally enthralled by a red-faced Luke Skywalker, deep into a narrative about Beggar’s Canyon. Across from her, next to Cassian, Shara Bey and Kes Dameron listen to Rex’s stories of Onderon, the ones he’d already told Jyn.

To his credit, Cassian doesn’t tense in anticipation of her question. Just lowers his fork and watches her, curious.

At that moment, a shadow falls across the table and they both look up to see a dark-skinned, figure standing by Cassian’s seat. Gray streaks run through her dreads, and Jyn can tell by the way she holds herself and regards the room that she’s probably fought as many battles as Rex. She looks incredibly familiar to Jyn, though she couldn’t name her. Maybe she’s a friend of Rex’s.

But then Cassian’s face breaks into a rare grin as he stands up and envelopes this woman in an even more rare hug.

“Steela!” he says. “It’s been so long.”

Jyn’s fork clatters against her tray.

Steela Gerrera. The sister Saw never talked about. Except once, when she was still quite young, and had accidentally uncovered her holo when snooping about some old crates.

Neither Cassian nor Steela glance her way, though she knows Cassian will have noticed. They’re more focused on each other.

“Too long this time,” she agrees solemnly. “I heard what you did on Scarif. Not your usual style...”

“Yeah, well…”

“...but very brave. I’m very proud of you.”

Cassian looks as uncomfortable with the praise as he ever does. He finally looks at her, holds out a hand towards her. “It was really Jyn’s mission.”

“It was a team effort,” Jyn says slowly, standing. She and Steela regard each other carefully.

“I’m sorry, let me introduce you—” Cassian starts to say.

“Jyn Erso,” Steela says. And why does Jyn feel suddenly nervous? Unbidden, the story Zeb had been telling earlier, of the time Jacen’s father met Cham Syndulla, comes to mind. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Steela,” Jyn nods. She decides to voice the question that’s been bothering her. The gears have been turning in her head this whole time, and she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer, but she wants to hear it.

“How do you two know each other?” Jyn asks — surprised to find her voice in sync with Cassian asking the same.

Jyn glances at Cassian, puzzled. He knows her history with Saw.

Steela sighs. “This is my fault.” She answers Jyn first. “I trained Cassian, when he was younger. Before he got promoted to Draven’s team.”

Jyn nods; that’s what she anticipated. It clicks into place now — every obscure saying and tradition she and Cassian had had in common. They had, it turned out, been raised separately by siblings. Her chest aches at the idea that in some other universe, one where Saw and Steela had gotten over their ideological differences, that she and Cassian could have met earlier.

He turns to her now, subtle creases along his brows and eyes. Why are you looking at me like that? she reads on his face.

“And Cassian,” Steela says, reluctantly, abashedly. “I’m afraid there’s something I never told you.”

The wrinkles in his face shift as, she assumes, his mind races to catch up with the situation. He glances between Jyn and Steela.

“Onderon,” he says. “You’re related to Saw, aren’t you?”

“He’s my brother,” she says. She drops her head, eyes focused on the Onderonian food in front of them. “By the time I met you, I’d taken Lux’s name. To distance myself.”

The final mystery revealed. So that’s why Cassian hadn’t realized.

“I’m sorry to both of you,” she says. “I should have tried harder to reconcile with Saw.”

“Reconciliation requires efforts on both sides,” Jyn says.

Something in Steela’s gaze softens, and she nods appreciatively. “How did you recognize me?”

“Saw had a holo of you. I found it once.”

“You found it,” Cassian murmurs, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Yeah, it wasn’t a happy day.” She clears her throat and holds out her hand. “Anyways. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” And Steela moves right past her hand and envelops her in a hug. “Thanks for looking after him,” she whispers in Jyn’s ear, and Jyn isn’t sure if she is referring to Saw or Cassian.

Steela pulls away and glances at their table with misty eyes. “Might I join you? It’d be a pleasure to share this meal with two honorary Onderonians.”

“Of course,” Jyn says. “Please. The pleasure is all ours.”

#liz replies #my writing #steela lives au #steela gerrera #rebelcaptain #twiceihavelived

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haydenokayden · 5 years

Text

Staring

It was hot. Really hot. People needed to cool off. They were stressed out too, unsurprisingly, but that wasn't really anything new.

Naturally, people would do their best to relax. Eliza and Shara were sitting around, Byron was god knows where, Draco went some place they didn't know, Elric and Einarr were knowhere to be found. Though they had a feeling those two were off doing something together.

The two girls were in the middle of conversation when a sudden muffled squeal interupted them.

"What was that?" Eliza asked, looking quizzically at Shara. "I don't know, but we should probably check it out." She replies before standing up and walking towards the noise followed by Eliza.

To their surprise, a crowd had formed around a window. Naturally, the assumed the worst. Maybe someone passed out or fell from the top floor.

But then they heard them whispering.

"Oh my god, they're so hot!"

"I wouldn't mind if both of them took me to their bedroom and had their way with me."

"Look at those muscles!"

Some of the crowd members squealed again, piquing their interest even more so they decided to investigate.

"What's going on?" Shara asked but she was ignored, annoying her a bit.

Realizing that words wouldn't help, they decided to look themselves.

"Oh my..." The two girls said in unison. Spotting what the crowd was squealing about.

Elric and Einarr were sparring.

While shirtless.

They almost seemed like they were dancing. A deadly tango of blades and fists. They were using training weapons but it didn't affect how they fought.

Their muscles flexed as their body moved, the more pronounced scars outlining them. Their frames danced gracefully around each other. Parrying or dodging blow for blow, neither landing a hit on each other.

Of course, Einarr had the upper hand.

Elric was a capable fighter, but Einarr was undoubtedly superior and it showed.

The two fought on, oblivious to the mass of people watching them. Their blades sparked each time they parried, their bodies blurred whenever they dodged.

Both of them had a grin on their face as if truly enjoying themselves. And the crowd, including Shara and Eliza, loved it.

Eliza cleared her throat before speaking, clearly a bit flustered at the sight of the two men. "I-I think we know why now." She chuckled shakily, struggling with her voice.

Shara wasn't doing any better.

"I-I'm gonna go check on them. They look ti-tired."

In truth, the two didn't. Shara just wanted to get a closer look at the two of them. Specially Einarr.

"I'll c-come with you."

Eliza replied, already following Shara to where the two were.

They stopped for a moment to get some water bottles for the two men, partially because Shara didn't want to seem like a liar.

Minutes later, they arrived at where the two were. Their scars were now fully visible. The two girls didn't care though. They didn't mind them.

"Hey, you two!" Eliza exclaimed, catching Elric's attention causing him to mess up his dodge and get hit. He winced and turned around to see the two women watching them only to get scolded by Einarr.

"Elric, you know you have to pay attention to things like these. If this was a real fight, you'd have died!" He reprimanded, looking at Elric with a disappointed gaze.

"Well, to be fair. If it really was a real fight, Elric would've been defeated a long time ago." Shara chuckled teasingly, though she was blushing like mad. "No offense." She added. She knew they were both capable fighters, but all four of them knew that Einarr was better at fighting.

"Oh, come on! We all know I could outsmart him!" Elric whined, though he knew she was right. "Whatever, what brings you two over?" He asked curiously. Oblivious to how Eliza was staring at him. Then again, Einarr didn't notice how Shara stared at him either.

"Oh, we figured the two of you would want something to drink. We brought some water for you guys." Shara replied, holding out a bottle for both of them.

"Oh, we have our own. It's right over there." Einarr pointed to where their tops were discarded, right next to it were 2 bottles of water. "But thanks anyway. Why don't you girls just keep those for yourselves?" He smiles at them before looking to Elric.

"Wanna keep going?" He asks him, cocking his head to the side which Shara found adorable. "Yeah, sure." Elric shrugged, taking his blades again.

"Are you two gonna stay?" Einarr questioned though he didn't take his eyes off of Elric. "Yeah, you two are pretty entertaining to watch." Shara grinned as she, along with Eliza sat down a few feet away from them.

"Alright then." He shrugged nonchalantly in response before charging at Elric. Striking his left side only to be parried.

Both of them were oblivious to how the two women stared as they fought.

They missed how Eliza blushed up to her ears when Elric smirked thinking he got Einarr.

They missed how Shara licked her lips as Einarr blocked his blow.

They missed how the group of women by the window squealed whenever they went back to their respective stances.

Elric ducked under Einarr's swipe, following it up with an upward slash that caused him to back away. Elric tried to bring his blade down, but his wrist was caught by Einarr's hand. Not even a moment later, he felt his legs being swept from under him then he was falling.

The next thing he knew, Einarr's blade was at his throat.

"Hmph. Show off."

He scoffed which made Einarr chuckle.

"Well, Shara is watching afterall. You better do your best too since Eliza is also here."

"In that case..."

The next moment, Elric was now on top. His blade was at Einarr's throat.

"I win."

He gloated, but Einarr smirked.

"Think again."

Einarr's left hand was wrapped around Elric's wrist, one swift motion could lead to it being broken.

Elric sighed, defeated. He stood up and Einarr released him. Only to sweep his feet out from under him again.

"Oh, come on! You did this last time we sparred!"

Einarr just laughed before standing up himself and offering his hand to the fallen man.

"Hey, you can't expect me to only use tricks once."

Elric took his hand and stood up. They locked eyes and smirked before laughing heartily. Though it died down quickly. The two women approached them as they did so.

"Well, who won?" Eliza asks, not having heard their conversation from earlier.

"I did." Einarr said teasingly before Shara punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Ow! Hey! What did I do?" In truth, it didn't hurt. Both of them knew this but he decided to play along anyway. "Is it always going to be this way because this is ab-" He was cut off by Shara kissing him on the cheek. "Oh, will you shut up!"

"Well, I guess I could get used to this." He replied in a daze. "Get a room you two!" Elric fake gagged, though it really wasn't all that believable. "Aww, is Elric jealous?" Eliza teased, causing Elric to look at her incredulously. "Me? No! Why would I be?" He remarked defensively, looking away. "Maybe a little bit..." He muttered under his breath, but Eliza heard it and grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips.

Elric melted into it immediately but they stopped before things got heated. They were still in public afterall.

"Well, judging by that one. I think you two need a room." Shara teased, laughing lightly before pressing her chest against Einarr's exposed arm.

"Hmm, why don't we get a room, love?" She winked at him causing Einarr to smirk knowingly. Of course, Elric and Eliza were clueless.

"Huh? What do you mean by that?" Eliza asked innocently while Elric gave them a questioning look.

"You know what, Elric? We can spar tomorrow. I just remembered me and Shara have something to attend to."

The two left without giving the other couple a chance to respond. Not that they would have as Eliza was already dragging Elric to their own room with a hungry look in her eyes.

The crowd by the window was left disappointed that day.

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moonprincess92 · 6 years

Text

A family can be 2 traumatised soldiers and their 30 kids (8)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Read on AO3

Part 8

If there was one thing her life was lacking, it was friends.

Jyn didn’t kid herself that she was exactly friend material though, and perhaps that was mostly the reason why. She just wasn’t hardwired for that kind of relationship. After spending so long supressing any kind of emotional attachment, getting herself to relax and open up to even one person had been trying enough, but it hit her one evening when the kids were all in bed and Cassian was in a meeting that she… literally had no one else. She didn’t have anyone to turn to, to ask about or to check in with. She had a professional relationship with the princess, but she definitely wouldn’t go so far as to call her a friend. Leia certainly had too many of her own issues to deal with at the moment anyway. She had Aden and Tavisha, but they were still kids to her and probably always would be. They understood a lot, they had a lot to offer, but there were just some things that you couldn’t talk to your kids about.

In the end, Jyn ended up comm-ing the only person she could think of.

“Hey, Shara?”

“Jyn?” the pilot answered in a state of utter confusion. “Is everything ok? Is this something to do with Poe–?”

“No, no,” Jyn quickly assured, rubbing at the pressure that was building behind her forehead. This was a horrible idea. “I was just – I don’t know whether it’s too late – but um, I need someone to talk to. Did you want to buy some illegal whiskey and get hammered with me somewhere?”

There was some rustling down Shara’s end, a dull thud like she’d hit Kes out of her way or something. “It’s never too late for that,” she answered at once. “Where can I find you?”

The whiskey was bought from a particularly well-known source within the Intelligence-circles. While the agents themselves were the face of the operation, Jyn was almost fairly certain that it was actually one particular spotty-faced kid in human resources who was the one doing the actual smuggling. Either way, High Council had no idea and monthly bar nights continued even though the entire rebellion was two steps from death these days. Jyn met Shara in her classroom on the main frigate, figuring that no one would suspect anything illegal to be happening there. They slumped down onto the cushions that Jyn had managed to steal from the haul of an intercepted Imperial shuttle to decorate the room with and passed the bottle between them.

“I can’t even remember the last time I got drunk,” Shara almost choked on the whiskey. “Gotta be before Poe was born.”

“Sorry if–”

“Kriff, don’t be sorry!” Shara added, shoving her shoulder sluggishly. “I’ve never felt so alive!”

Jyn felt the giant knot of tension in her chest loosen slightly. “Thanks,” she said. “I… I realised that I basically have no friends. I have Cassian, but we’re apparently getting through this by carrying on like normal. There’s not even a lot left that we could say to each other because he gets it. But sometimes I think there’s still some stuff I want to get out and I don’t…”

“You literally change my son every time he soils himself, I am fuckin’ HERE FOR YOU,” Shara declared.

“Actually, Cassian mostly handles that job. I only do it when all else fails.”

“STILL.”

“You really are a lightweight, huh?”

“This stuff is kriffin’ strooooong,” Shara glanced down at the bottle in her hands before shrugging and gulping down some more. “So talk to me, Jyn. How’re you goin’?”

“Honestly, not good, Shara.”

The other woman hiccupped slightly before saying, “I joined the rebellion after Scarif. I only ever heard about it from the rumours.”

“The rumours are mostly true.”

Shara took another shot. “Shiiiiit.”

“Although I didn’t get revenge on the man who killed my mother by gouging out his eyes, everyone always gets that part wrong,” Jyn pointed out, hastily. “Cassian stopped me before I could get that far.”

Shara looked like she might have been recovering slightly when she had to go and add that point on the end. She shook her head before handing the bottle over. “I always… sometimes I wondered,” she admitted as Jyn drank. “How you and Cassian had gone from blowing shit up to looking after kids.”

“There’s a lot of rumours about that too,” Jyn pointed out. “Unfortunately, the truth is I broke some guy’s arm and Mothma got pissed off.”

Shara nodded, lips twitching. “But I think I get it now… well maybe, I don’t know if I could ever really get it... but after everything you’ve been through, I can understand wanting to do less. Looking after those kids isn’t any easier, but at least you’re not getting shot at every other day, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” Jyn could recall several target practices where her kids’ shots had gone only slightly awry. “but… yeah.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re dealing with.”

Jyn closed her eyes, letting the alcohol swirl her brain. If she let it, she could so easily spiral out of control right now. She could let the panic sink in, let it crush her until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, could only scream and scream and scream, and maybe it’s what she felt like doing, but as always she didn’t have the time. The kids needed someone to assure them that the galaxy wasn’t ending, that it was all going to be ok, and she knew Cassian was on the verge of snapping as much as she was. If she lost it, he might too and they would be of no use to anyone in the Medbay… but as much as that was all true, it also meant that they hadn’t really dealt with it at all.

Her chest constricted as she fought to keep the waves crashing over her.

“Yeah, I apparently need a moment,” Jyn admitted. “I’ve done enough talking, I’ve done enough keeping it together… I just need to break down for a bit. It’s going to be ugly, Shara.”

“We all need a chance to be ugly, girl,” Shara told her.

“I’m serious–”

“And I’mmmmm drunk,” Shara added. “but serious too, yes. Jyn do whatever the hell you need to do. I’ll be here.”

And she was.

Jyn almost didn’t catch the symptoms.

“EMERGENCY DRILL,” she suddenly barked, hitting the app on her datapad. The siren blared, loud and deafening, and instead of the usual immediate flurry of movement, it only elicited a few stirrings and a lot of pained groans. Jyn smirked a little at her classroom full of sluggish teenagers, the lot of them having been moaning and complaining all day so far and now at last she seemed to have figured out exactly what was up with them all.

She cut the siren off. She wasn’t that cruel.

“All right, losers,” she said, cheerfully. “If that had been the Empire invading you’d all be dead, so do yourselves a favour and confess now: who provided the booze?”

The class froze. Rivi was slumped back in her chair with a spare pair of flight googles over her eyes and hadn’t moved for over an hour while she was fairly certain that Geron had slept through the entire drill, but she noticed a lot of panicked looks being exchanged across the classroom. They ultimately all came back to the same person however, and Jyn paced slowly until she was right in front of her chair.

“Lahrin?” she asked. “Care to explain?”

“It wasn’t MY idea,” she deflected at once.

Jyn was almost 1000% certain it had been. As much as she loved Lahrin, the girl had been manipulating situations to her advantage ever since she had arrived as a sweet, innocent-looking 15-year-old two years ago. “Look, I don’t care that apparently, a bunch of you all went and got black-out drunk last night,” Jyn sighed, glaring around at her roomful of what were clearly hungover teenagers. “what I do care about is still being able to protect yourselves. The Empire won’t give you a pass just because you drank too much.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lahrin pointed out. “You were totally hungover in class last week.”

Jyn pinched the bridge of her nose. Hungover hadn’t even been the start of her issues that day. Shara had eventually dragged her back to her room around 0500, passed out, her knuckles skinned and her throat burning. She hadn’t been in much of a state to do anything the few hours later when she needed to be awake…

“Don’t get snarky with me,” Jyn warned. “if you’ll remember, I still came to class. I still did my job.”

Lahrin at least looked a little chastised. Jyn sighed.

“Look, I know things haven’t been easy,” she told them all. “Wait – can someone wake up Geron for this?” She waited as Dan kicked Geron awake and Vance was forced to take away Rivi’s goggles to make her look up. “Guys – being honest, I’m not handling the news of the second Death Star well. But I’m still here and I’m still getting through it. You can drink yourselves stupid if you want, but you all have to keep going, ok? If I have to, you guys have to as well. And with that being said,” Jyn grimaced at what she was about to ask next. “tell me the gossip. Who passed out, who hooked up…?”

Thankfully, she got some laughs out of that. “I wouldn’t kiss any of these losers!” Lahrin practically choked.

“Way too close for that, eh?” Kris teased, poking her on the arm.

Rivi just snapped her goggles back on.

“Don’t worry, we were safe,” Vance felt the need to hastily add.

“Ok, I’ve heard enough,” Jyn held up a hand.

These days, she held Cassian a bit too tight. She kissed slightly too hard and pushed him around far too much, and he didn’t even mind. He never stopped her, never complained, but she didn’t want this to be their only way of connecting anymore. Every time she thought that enough time was passing that they could start to figure things out again, something else would happen and they would backslide once more. This time, it was hearing the rumours that a group of Bothan spies had come up with a plan to get more intel on the new Death Star, and it reeked too much of Scarif that she ended up fucking Cassian within an inch of his life on their refresher floor.

“I’m sorry…” she said in a hoarse whisper, once they had finally crawled into bed. He lay on his back in a kind of stupor. By this point, Jyn usually had a few hours before the usual tension and dread started settling in again, but she looked down at him and realised that it was already there, or maybe still there, stabbing at her heart and not letting her go. This wasn’t fixing things. Jyn reached out, curling an arm over his chest and curling herself into his side as much as she could, a leg hitching up over his hip.

“I’m a mess,” she whispered.

“My mess,” Cassian corrected. “Besides, me too.”

She clicked her tongue at the sentiment. “We should be talking, not fucking.”

Cassian made a non-committal sound. “We can do both.”

She attempted a laugh, but it got stuck in her throat somewhere and came out as a kind of gurgle. “Cassian…” she whispered, head firmly tucked under his so that there was no way she could accidentally meet his eyes. “It’s all just happening again. The Bothan’s are going on a suicide mission, the entire damn Death Star, we keep on trying, we keep on fighting and fighting but nothing ever makes a fucking difference.”

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to reassure me, that’s how comforting works.”

“I don’t know how to do it when I feel the same as you,” Cassian pointed out. His arms squeezed around her tighter, his hand sliding down to hold onto her thigh like an anchor. “About 99% of my time, I feel like I want to punch something and the only reason I don’t is the kids.”

They fall quiet for a few long moments at that. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t alone, that she wasn’t the only one feeling like she was, but then again it was jarring to realise that she didn’t have someone to talk actual sense into her. Shara let her cry and Leia let her work, but she needed someone to let her deal and she could practically feel Cassian starting to come to the same conclusions that she was.

“Shit,” he muttered. “We both really need to see someone, don’t we?”’

“You mean a professional someone,” It wasn’t a question. She sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Unfortunately, the rebellion was severely lacking in well, basically everything. It couldn’t even provide basic nutritional food, let alone a functioning therapy system, but luckily they all apparently made do with the informal help of the medics. Jyn quite famously didn’t get along with any of them (probably from the amount of times she’d defied their ‘no visitors except for direct family’ rule) but she would make an exception if it could in anyway help stable her peace of mind. She at least owed it to the kids to try.

“In the morning,” she murmured, kissing his neck. “One of us will skip class and go ask about who to talk to. If it’s the batty old lady who tried to curse me for trying to visit Ann when she was sick, then I’ll just take my chances.”

Thankfully, he let out a bark of laughter.

“Tell me a random kid story?” Jyn asked then, keen for any kind of distraction. “How were they today, did they behave?”

Cassian chuckled. “Quite a few of them got married, actually.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He pressed his lips to her hair. “I think they were kind of inspired by our wedding, but Arlo was the ringleader. I caught him trying to dress up in my jacket and when I asked what he was doing, he said he was getting ready for his wedding. He’d roped everyone into it apparently, set out all the chairs, made an aisle, got Danny to be the officiator and Bree and Charlee as the flower girls.”

“Who was he marrying?”

“Oh, multiple people,” Cassian chuckled. “First, he married Haley. Then he married Lyle. He was going to marry Fliss next, but Pero got possessive and I worried for a moment we would have a duel over her.”

“We might have to have a talk to him about that.”

“Thankfully, I managed to calm them all down,” Cassian agreed. “Honestly, it was hilarious watching. Arlo insisted on kissing all of them, too.”

“Isn’t he still six?”

“He was really into the authenticity of the thing.”

“It’s weird to think Arlo was once that little kid I had to take to the toilet every damn time he needed to poo.”

Cassian nodded against her head, but she felt the tension seeping back in just from the way she was wrapped around him. His muscles clenched and she rubbed her hands over his back, shoulders, in an attempt to keep it at bay, at least just for a little longer. No matter how much they distracted themselves for, their issues always came sneaking back in eventually.

“Don’t think about it,” she murmured.

“I’m trying,” he whispered back. Then after clearing his throat, he spoke a little louder. “What did the teens get up to today?”

“Well, apparently they’ve all taken up partying recently, so honestly trying to get them to do anything in class is a nightmare…”

Medic Dhanya Hightower didn’t look like much. She was small, long hair always braided down her back and a smile perpetually on her face no matter what was happening within the Rebellion. She must have seen countless injuries, wounds too terrible to even describe, yet she was always willing to listen. She was always willing to make time, and that’s how after some asking around, Jyn found herself in Medbay storage, leaning against the shelves and talking while Dhanya ticked varying stock off her datapad.

“Jyn, babe,” Dhanya said without even looking up. “it’s not your fault.”

“I know… but my brain still thinks it is.”

“I guess that’s what we all do,” Dhanya nodded in understanding. The woman always understood, somehow. “Do you speak much to Captain Andor about all this?”

“A little… but we realised that while talking to each other was good, we were both too far into this to be able to help each other,” Jyn wished she could get away with only speaking to Cassian, but here she was. “I wouldn’t be here if it was helping.”

“You know that he’s come and spoken to me too, right?”

“We both decided it was for the best.”

“I’m glad you did,” Dhanya smiled at her warmly. “A lot of people come and talk to me, but even more don’t. I’ve known of Captain Andor ever since I first joined the rebellion ten standard years ago, and this is the first damn time I’ve ever been able to actually help him.”

“Yeah, he’s not exactly forthcoming.”

“But he is with you.”

“He married me,” Jyn shrugged. “He has to be.”

Dhanya laughed. “Jyn, can I ask you a question?”

She hesitated at first. It was a natural instinct to immediately protect herself from anything trying to force its way inside, but the last thing Dhanya would do is force. Jyn had sought out the informal therapist of her own free will, had spoken to her about things she hadn’t properly spoken of in years, she knew this was safe and confidential and ok… but it was hard to let go of natural instincts.

“Sure,” she shrugged.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

So many things could come to mind. There were the obvious things, things that Dhanya was probably expecting – that this new Death Star would kill them all, that she would die, that her father would be disappointed in her, that Cassian would die – but honestly, the first thing that came into her head was none of these things.

“I’m afraid that if I break down any more than I already have, then I won’t be able to do my job properly,” she admitted. “I’m afraid that I’ll hurt my kids.”

Her kids, her kids, her kids.

“Wow,” Dhanya rested her datapad on a shelf for a moment. “You… really love them, huh?”

“I would die for them,” Jyn said, trying to keep the ferociousness out of her voice.

“I didn’t realise.”

“No one really does,” she said. “I don’t think anyone ever actually did this job properly until Cassian and I came along.”

“What’s the most ridiculous thing a kid’s done?” Dhanya asked enthusiastically then.

Kriffing hell, where to start. “Erm,” Jyn shrugged. “a kid tried to strangle me once?”

Dhanya’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t worry,” Jyn added. “he’s gotten better over the years. Reno’s only mostly an asshole now.”

“I’m honestly in awe of you, sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Jyn said. “and honestly… thank you. For talking to me. And for listening.”

“Of course.”

“JYN! JYN!” Vance practically crashed into her as they were all leaving the mess hall. His hands grabbed at her arms, nearly shoving her to the ground thanks to the 16-year-old’s weight. Jyn staggered as she exclaimed,

“What the hell–?”

“DID YOU HEAR? YOU HAVEN’T HEARD – HAN’S BACK! THEY FOUND HAN!”

That changed everything.

Jyn had no choice but to be dragged behind Vance as the kid sprinted for the hangar. Specifically the West Hangar, which was where all outside ships usually docked and went through screening before being allowed in. Jyn knew that Leia had been out on yet another mission to try and recover him, but how Vance had figured out that she was successful this time was beyond her. He tugged on her hand, pulling her through the crowds that were slowly gathering, the rebels who wanted to see the esteemed captain return home, and Jyn called out,

“Wait, wait! How the hell do you know he’s back?”

Vance skidded to a halt at the edge of the crowd, neck craning over all the heads. “I might’ve gotten Jessa to hack ship communications,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

She wasn’t even surprised. “Wait – Jessa can hack?” she decided to focus on.

“Oh, yeah – she’s fucking good at it, too! Can slice her way into anything.”

“I’m going to be having words with that girl…” Jyn muttered. A good data analyst she would make one day, but only if she used her powers for good. Jyn had to wonder why she hadn’t thought of teaching the skill until now. Luckily, they didn’t get sent out of the hangar. They had to hastily pretend to be unloading a recent shipment to avoid the crowd getting moved along, but they were still there by the time the unmistakable Millennium Falcon was eventually docking.

Han Solo looked like shit, put bluntly, but he didn’t keel over when Vance hurtled up out of nowhere and flung his arms around his middle, so he at least had that going for him. Leia didn’t let go of his hand, her tired face suddenly with a lot more life to it. While Han gingerly patted Vance on the head, Jyn hastily apologised for being unable to keep her kid under control.

“It’s fine,” Leia told her. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You let the kids go to Salahar,” Leia reminded her. “Their intel allowed us to find him. Without you, he would still be lost… so thank you.”

Jyn shrugged it off, but it hit her a little to see Vance so ecstatic upon seeing his hero back safe and sound. She didn’t hug Han herself, but accepted him clapping a hand onto her shoulder in acknowledgement. His presence, it seemed, had also brought a sense of urgency since Leia parted ways with, “There will be a briefing soon. Main council chamber. You and Andor need to come.”

“You know we can’t fight anymore–”

“Just come,” Leia insisted. “You’ll want to hear this.”

“Is this another battle?!” Carina was yelling in a panic.

“I’LL FIGHT ‘EM!” Reno punched the wall in his enthusiasm.

“Are we gonna have to evacuate again?” Ava clung to her waist, fearfully.

“EVERYONE, CALM DOWN!” Cassian’s booming voice was apparently the only thing that could get the entire youth class back under control. Their classroom really wasn’t big enough to comfortably accommodate them all anymore, but they had squeezed them all in for this, which was probably the only plus to this mess. It meant that the kids were all together, hearing the news at the same time; they sat huddled together, small ones on bigger kids’ laps, and it was at least comforting to know that they had all come a long way from that first classroom she had ever walked into. But the news of the scattered rebel fleets all being called in from across the galaxy, of a major council meeting that for some reason Jyn and Cassian were having to attend, it was scaring them all.

Jyn didn’t blame them.

She sat next to Cassian on the one table that they had in the room, Poe held safely in her lap. He was being unusually clingy, refusing to be put down and holding onto her pants or shirt for dear life if he was. Cassian spoke to the kids in that calm, yet still commanding way of his, which helped at least a little in putting everyone at ease.

“Look,” he explained. “we honestly don’t know what this meeting is going to be about. Just know we’ll only be gone for one morning and will be back in the afternoon. One of the other usual training officers will watch you guys, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“But this isn’t a normal meeting, is it?” the ever perceptive Trina called out. That caused several others to pipe up and Jade to sign frantically at them.

Truth was no, it wasn’t a normal meeting. But if her sessions with Dhanya had taught her anything, it was that they needed to carry on as normal as possible, no matter how crazy it might seem. Honestly, if the kids weren’t prepared for what was about to happen then Jyn certainly wasn’t, and the only thing keeping her heart from slamming out of her chest was Cassian’s hand occasionally reaching out and brushing against her side. But they could do this.

They had to.

She caught some anxious looks but the next morning they still left for the council meeting, making their way through the giant frigate only for it to eventually be confirmed that every Bothan who had gone after information about the new Death Star had died. After everything else they’d been through it was barely a blow at this point, but Jyn still felt her eyes close at it regardless. Cassian pressed his forehead subtly into her hair for a moment. This was it. It was all happening. They were attacking, and it was happening again, and someone actually had the audacity to ask whether Jyn and Cassian were going to be on the strike team sent down to Endor.

“We couldn’t,” Cassian insisted. “We can’t, you know that.”

But there were a lot of eye rolls at that. She heard someone mutter under their breath, “Who let the babysitters in?” Someone called down from the top of the tiered seating, “Why were they even allowed in here?” and Jyn was half ready to leap up there before Cassian could even get a hand on her shoulder.

Mothma hushed the chatter at once, but turned to Jyn and Cassian while General Akbar explained the logistics of the attack in the background. “While others might not think the same, I do not expect either of you to fight,” she told them without preamble. “You were asked here as it was thought you deserved to know what was happening.”

They’d been on this side of the pressure before. Jyn knew that look in Cassian’s eye. They were incapable of not helping whenever someone asked for it, but this was way bigger than anything else.

This was no Hoth evacuation, this was a carefully planned attack.

“We understand,” Jyn answered. “We can’t join the troops, but we thank you all the same.”

“You should do it.”

Goddamn kriffing hell –

She and Cassian both whirled around. She almost thought she might have a heart attack at seeing several of their kids lurking at the entrance to the hall, Rivi being the one to defiantly step forward and call out. At once, the other teens hissed frantically at Rivi to come back while several council members gave exasperated groans and looks that clearly said, can’t you keep these children under control?

Honestly, sometimes Jyn didn’t think it was at all possible.

“I am so sorry – ALL OF YOU!” she leapt at her feet at once. “OUTSIDE, NOW.”

She ended up practically frog-marching the kids down to a nearby control room to yell at them in peace, Cassian rounding them up at the back with an equally furious look. It took a couple moments for her to realise it was the same room that she had retreated to after hearing about the second Death Star for the first time. Cassian stood at her side once they had all filed sheepishly in, arms folded across his chest and glaring in that way he knew would make the kids cower.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE ALL DOING?” she stormed.

“Look what you did, Rivi, Jyn’s mad!” Geron hissed.

“YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ARSES I’M MAD,” Jyn said.

“Look, we just wanted to know what’s going on!” Rivi insisted. It was their group of eldest teens who had apparently snuck out – Jessa, Lahrin, Geron, Neera, Vance and Rivi – though Jyn had no doubt they would also be reporting back to everyone else. “Honest! You guys wouldn’t tell us, so what else were we supposed to do? Jessa tried slicing into the mainframe, but all the briefing notes were encrypted, so–”

“Bitch, way to throw me under the shuttlebus–” Jessa shoved Rivi hastily.

“I’M JUST SAYING,” Rivi threw up her hands. “We only wanted to know. We hate not knowing.”

Jyn rubbed her eyes. Shit, she had underestimated their kids in the worst way. Nothing was going to stop them from finding out. They were nearly adults, and they only wanted to know what was happening. She exchanged a look with Cassian and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Look,” Cassian began. “you’re all in major trouble for sneaking out of class, let’s get that clear first. But…”

He gestured vaguely to a clear space in the middle of the control room, and they all sat down together. It felt like a moment to be sitting down for, at least. Jessa and Lahrin leaned against each other, Neera tucked underneath Jessa’s arm like a child still. Vance leaned back against a store cupboard, Geron resting against him with his legs over Rivi’s lap, despite all their frustration still at their ringleader. Ready to listen, because really that’s all they had wanted.

A chance to listen.

“How much of the meeting did you hear?” she asked.

“A bit,” Neera admitted.

“You all know already about the new Death Star,” Cassian explained. “We finally got intel. Where it’s located, its status, everything. It’s currently over a moon called Endor, so far non-operational and being overseen by Emperor Palpatine himself. A lot of people died to get that information.”

“Like you guys nearly died the first time,” Rivi said without hesitation.

Something stabbed her.

“Yes,” Cassian closed his eyes a moment. “The council is organising an attack on the Death Star. There are going to be two teams, fighter’s striking from space and another being sent to Endor to take out the shield that’s protecting the thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got that part. C’mon, guys! Don’t worry about us, you need to do it!” Rivi said, amidst more ‘yeah!’s and nods from the others. “The fucking EMPEROR is on that thing, if you guys manage to blow him up you could end the entire war!”

“It’s not that simple–”

“We don’t want you to hold back because of us,” Neera piped up.

“Yeah, we can take care of ourselves–”

“Hell, we could even help–”

“STOP, all of you,” Jyn snapped. They all fell silent. “You’re not helping, and we’re not going! Don’t even argue!”

“But don’t you want to?” Rivi, naturally, just ploughed on without a care. “You have a chance to end this, and we all know how much it would mean to you–”

“Rivi,” Jyn cut in. She stared around the confused faces of the teenagers and said in a slightly more gentle voice, “Look… yes, it would mean a lot. But the thing is, we have shit in our lives that mean more now. You, Rivi. And the rest of you insane kids,” she added, gesturing to the others. “You mean more to us than…” She trailed off helplessly, glancing over at Cassian.

“Anything,” he finished.

It was tempting. The knowledge that the Emperor was there, that there really was a good chance to get justice for her father and to seize a life she hadn’t realised how much she wanted until now… it was almost enough that the kids were giving them permission to go.

But they were children, and they were the adults, damn it. They had to make the hard decisions.

“I don’t get it,” Rivi threw up her hands.

“We don’t expect you to, Rivi.”

Just because the council was planning the end of a war didn’t mean that everything came to a screeching halt. It was Ava’s 11th birthday, which meant naturally they had to have a party for her. It at least seemed to lift some of the tension as they decked out the training gym in decorations and they all attempted to learn the traditional (and somehow hugely complicated) birthday folk dance that Ava apparently wouldn’t accept unless it was done perfectly. After some intense searching on the holonet, Jyn had managed at least to get the feet right and Ava shrieked with glee as they span around together.

“How the hell are you getting this?�� Cassian didn’t exactly do out of breath, but she noted the exertion on his face at least as he pulled up alongside her. The man had no rhythm at all much to Ava’s severe disappointment and Jyn’s utter amusement. Hell, at least it gave her something to be amused about. She paused in the dance, letting Ava move on to a different partner and watching her grab onto Magda, swinging around with her instead.

“I pick things up quickly.”

He glanced at her as they took a break from dancing. The kids span and laughed underneath the coloured lights, and Jyn wished she could freeze it all. “Ava’s 11…” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “It can’t be real. She’s supposed to be a little eight-year-old who can’t go to bed without a goodnight hug.”

“To be fair, she still needs the hug.”

“True,” Cassian pointed out. “but she’s not allowed to get older.”

“I don’t know… I kind of want her to,” Jyn realised. She noticed Cassian’s questioning look and she carried on, “Just… this is a war. Malia will never be older than 18. I try not to imagine the kids getting older, because I know it will hurt more if they died… which I know probably isn’t very healthy of me to be thinking,” she added.

“I understand, though.”

She smiled as she watched Ava lean in and kiss Magda’s cheek, ever the cuddly, sweet one. “Thank the Force someone does. So when they do get older like this… it’s kind of a nice surprise.”

She wanted that life for them. She wanted them to have a life wholly different to hers, where it was actually a miracle if she reached her next birthday. She wanted these kids to actually grow up, get older. She wanted to see them hit the awkward puberty years, she wanted to see them slowly turn into adults, she wanted to still be there for them when they comm-ed her at 0200 asking how to wash sheets.

They wouldn’t get that chance unless they won this war.

Jyn sighed, reaching out and casually curling her fingers around Cassian’s.

“I’ve got to fight.”

He gripped her hand tight.

“I know.”

The rebellion moved in a hurry.

It seemed that no matter which way you turned, there was a shuttle heading in that direction. For as many squadrons that were coming in, there were enough also going out to distract the Empire from the fact that they were planning something in the first place. As non-combatants, Jyn got the message that the youth class was being shipped out to the nearest Alliance-friendly planet first thing in the morning, something none of the kids were all too happy about. Considering that up until this point they’d always managed to be in the thick of the action like during the Hoth evacuation, she wasn’t surprised that they weren’t taking too kindly to getting sent away.

“C’mon, we could help!” Azha was yelling, even as she was being carried sideways around the middle by Cassian like a smashball. She flailed her legs as she was hauled up the loading ramp. “I could kick some serious Imperial ass!”

“I know, you’ve only been complaining about it the last 24 hours,” Jyn rubbed her head, warily.

Cassian dumped the girl unceremoniously onto the shuttle, even as she continued to protest. The hangar was full of noise, the hustle and bustle of loading and unloading, people saying goodbye and officers trying to keep a semblance of order by frantically trying to keep track of how many were boarding. Jyn had been attempting to herd the kids onto their shuttle for the last half an hour, even with Ava clinging around her waist the entire time and refusing to let go. “Honestly,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I wanna stay!”

“You’re not staying, now get on the damn shuttle.”

“NO.”

“CASSIAN.”

Cassian thankfully strode over and scooped Ava up in one movement. By the time he made it back to the shuttle, both Azha and Reno had managed to jump out the doors and escape once again.

Kriffing hell.

“LOOK, look, come here guys,” Jyn hadn’t wanted to do a big goodbye. It felt too final, too much like she wasn’t coming back, but apparently nothing else was going to settle them. She sat down on the loading ramp (much to the exasperation of the officer overseeing their evacuation) and gestured for everyone to gather round her. Bree crawled into her lap while everyone thankfully listened to her this time. Cassian stayed standing, she noticed. He’d been on edge ever since they’d gotten the official evacuation notice, and the folded arms across his chest told her that he hadn’t lightened up at all since then.

“Look, I need you guys all to listen right now,” Jyn called out to the class. “This thing that is happening, it’s important. It could change everything, or it could change nothing, we honestly don’t know how it’s going to go, but we need you to listen. Get on the shuttle. Stay with Cassian. I’ll see you all again when it is safe.”

“You’re not gonna die though, are you?” Haley asked, her face crinkled in concern.

Jyn smiled through what was honestly a lie. “I’ll have Aden and Tavisha with me. I promise I won’t.”

Still, Jyn made sure to hug every single kid that then grudgingly walked onto that shuttle. She reminded Reno to keep his fists to himself and Warrin to keep squeezing his stress ball if he needed to. She had to deal with Bree crying as she handed her over to Cassian and held it together when she clapped a hand onto Talek’s shoulder, accepting his small nod as a warning to please be careful. She tried to avoid watching Carina, Caylen and Ann as their parents came over to say goodbye, much like all the other kids who had parents who hadn’t already left yet to take part in the attack.

“Honestly!” the officer overseeing them spluttered when even Aden and Tavisha came over to say goodbye. “How many more kids are coming on this flight? Because my manifest already says that we’re six seats short, there’s no way we can fit more on–”

“There’s another shuttle evacuating the medical and support staff,” Jyn just rolled her eyes. “Some of the older guys can just go on that one.”

While Jessa, Lahrin, Geron, Neera, Vance and Rivi got diverted to another shuttle (“Jessa, you are in charge, don’t let those hooligans out of your sight!”) Jyn finally got a chance to pull Cassian to the side. Fingers sliding in against his, she let out a breath as they stood together, blocking out anything that wasn’t the other’s breath.

“I still don’t like you going without me,” Cassian said, quietly.

“We both know one of us has to stay with the kids.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I’ll look after them.”

“You better. At this point they’re likely to stage a mutiny.”

He at least chuckled slightly. Jyn tilted her head up and his lips quickly met hers, melting together for a long a moment as they dared. She wished there was more time, time to slide her hands up his spine and for him to tangle his fingers into her hair, but the officer with the datapad was coughing pointedly behind them and she pulled back hastily to hug him.

“Destroy that thing, ok?” Cassian whispered, mouth pressed against her ear. “Destroy it and come home.”

“I will.”

She watched the shuttle take off with Aden and Tavisha’s arms around her.

Jyn slammed an elbow into a Stormtrooper’s chest plate, regretting it immediately at the pain that flared. Still, she carried on, slamming her boot into the joint of his thigh and he crumpled to the forest ground. She ran, trying to activate the comm in her ear at the same time. She’d been hearing Leia calling her the last fifteen minutes or ago, but had rather had her hands full. Tavisha was with another group, but Aden skidded to a halt when he realised that Jyn was pausing.

“Go on!” she yelled. They needed all the help they could get.

Aden simply pointed his blaster at her. Something gripped her throat for half a second, before she realised that the shot had gone somewhere over her shoulder and taken out a Stormtrooper who had been moments from blasting her brains out from behind her.

“Nah, I’ll stay here,” Aden called, cheerfully.

Jyn rolled her eyes before finally calling Leia back.

“Sergeant Erso!” Leia could barely be heard over the shots fired, Ewoks screaming in fury and the occasional explosion. “The bunker doors have been deadlocked and R2 is compromised, we need help.”

“I can call–”

“I’ve tried,” Leia cut in. “All the signals back to the fleet are going haywire, there’s just too much traffic–”

“I’ll get through,” Jyn insisted. “You concentrate on not dying.”

“Oh, Han has that covered.”

“I’ll bet,” Jyn muttered, before pulling the comm out of her ear and attempting to manually patch it through to any of their base ships up with the main rebel fleet. She just had to hope that she got lucky and for one moment she thought she had – but then she heard a bunch of voices all yelling over each other in amongst a lot of shaky static. She almost tried a different frequency…

Except.

“Shit, shit, someone’s trying to contact the ship!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“BACK UP CAN’T COME TO THE COMM RIGHT NOW.”

Why did that sound a hell of a lot like –

Oh.

Fuck no.

“Like you’re all going to be,” Jyn suddenly snarled down the comm. “Unless you all tell me where the hell you are right now.”

Silence down the comm. Aden stared at her weirdly, before slamming the butt of his blaster into a ‘trooper’s helmet.

“Oh fuck,” the unmistakable voice of Lahrin said.

“OH FUCK SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT,” Jyn yelled. “What the HELL are you all doing? Why aren’t you with Cassian – WHERE ARE YOU – you’re all being black-carded!”

“Shit, we really are in trouble now,” Neera’s trembling voice put out there.

“NEERA – HOW MANY OF YOU –?”

“There’s only the six of us!” Lahrin insisted.

“FOR THE RECORD,” there was a loud scraping noise before Rivi’s voice thundered in, like she’d just knocked something over in her haste to explain herself. “THIS WASN’T MY IDEA.”

“Yeah, you just encouraged it.”

“Vance, I’m breaking up with you.”

Jyn didn’t have the goddamn time for this. Her kids were apparently up there somewhere, not safe on a planet systems away, but right in the thick of the battle. They could be fucking shot out of the sky, what the HELL were they thinking –

“Look, we will handle how much trouble you are all in later!” Jyn barked. Much to her inconvenience, she noticed an AT-AT making its way closer to where she was, and even Aden couldn’t hold that off. They sprinted together through the underbrush as Jyn carried on, “I need to speak to whoever is in charge of whatever shuttle you’ve all apparently stolen!”

“We didn’t steal it!”

“We just – hitched a ride?”

“But anyway,” Geron called out, clearly a bit further away since his voice was more tinny than the others. “That’s gonna be a bit of a problem since our only pilot kind of just fell unconscious.”

Cassian was going to get an earful about this later.

“What the hell happened?”

“We only wanted to help,” Lahrin insisted. “So we fudged the numbers of the flight manifest so that we’d get put on a different shuttle and convince the pilot to come back.”

“And that worked?”

“When we stole his blaster, yeah.”

“You are all dead meat. Continue.”

“Well, we got back but we got hit,” Lahrin said. “The shuttle isn’t too compromised, but the pilot hit his head.”

“Wait, then who the hell is flying?”

“Vance.”

Honestly, these kids were going to be the death of her. They were naturally only doing what they had been taught, which was to always do the right thing and a part of her couldn’t help but even be a little impressed. Of course Vance could figure out how to fly an unknown shuttle with only an indecipherable instruction manual and his own limited knowledge learned on his own time. Of course Lahrin managed to fudge a ship manifest. Next, Jessa would be using her slicing skills to –

“Ok,” Jyn shook her head. “Ok, ok, ok. Hold on one moment, let me just–” She had to shoot her way across a clearing, Aden covering her back. She kicked at a Stormtrooper that was attempting to shake off the Ewok on its back and quickly dove into the brush on the other side. “I’m back,” she said down the shaky comm line once more. “Now listen to me, you little shits. I need Jessa, I’m assuming she got roped into this too?”

“I’m here,” the seventeen-year-old’s voice was quivering and she wasn’t surprised. This was the same girl who had broken down in her arms when Malia had died.

“Good,” Jyn said. “Jessa, we have to open the doors to the control centre that the shield is operated from, but they’ve been deadbolted. I need you to slice in remotely, I know you know how to do that–”

“Using this shuttle’s equipment?!” Jessa said in a panic. “Jyn, I can’t–”

“YES, YOU CAN, because this entire damn plan is counting on it!” Jyn said. “JESSA, listen to me, I know you’re scared. I know you probably only got dragged along on this hare-brained scheme because you’re the oldest and you felt like you had to protect the others, but you are strong. You are brave, and you can do this.”

For a long moment, she heard nothing but static that occasionally cut back into the frequency. She could hear the insisting beeping that told her that Leia was no doubt waiting on another line, but she already knew what she wanted. She had to believe that Jessa could do this. Her skills had already surpassed what Jyn had been capable of herself when she was younger –

“Ok, I’m gonna try,” Jessa said.

She did. And the second that Leia stopped trying to get through, Jyn knew that her kids had done it.

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #rogue one fanfic #dailyrebelcaptain #ro fanfic #ro #kid fic #a family can be #YALL THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS FIC DIDN'T YA #BUT IT'S HERE #and i don't expect anyone to still be into it #but i'm finishing it anyway #if u DO happen to read it and like it pls reblog me <3 #my fanfiction

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keldae · 6 years

Text

Drastic Measures (Chapter Fifteen)

It paid to know veterans of Imperial Intelligence, Doc decided. Lokin might not have been able to get people to clear out of his path like Reanden Taerich could, but he didn’t need to. He knew the back routes through Kaas City that kept them far from the main traffic thoroughfares, away from the people who might recognize Doc’s face from the Republic’s bounty posting. Still, the medic’s heart stayed firmly lodged in his throat, beating loudly enough that he swore it was audible a couple paces away. It was not until they finally entered Darth Imperius’ personal hangar that the near-panic abated. Apparently the Sith berthed his ship on the side of Kaas City opposite from where his father parked the Shadow. A beat-up looking Mantis-class ship rested beside the sleek Imperial vessel — Shara’s personal ship.

There was a brief flash of motion at the entrance hatch to the Fury-class Interceptor before Talos Drellik showed his face, slowly lowering his blaster pistol. “Xalek commed ahead,” the quirky archaeologist said as the two doctors hurried up to the Raven’s ramp. “What’s going on? He only mentioned Zakuulans getting involved.”

“Someone sold Imperius out for hiding us,” Doc growled as he hurried to safety in the ship. He was starting to get sick of seeing red and black everywhere he looked, but at least the Raven was safe for now. “We didn’t expect the bloody Zakuulan Inquisition to come knocking on his doorstep.”

“Who the hells would have even known?” Talos shook his head as he secured the Raven’s exit hatch and returned to the central area of the ship, worriedly eyeing the holoterminal. “Us three, Imperius and his father, Shara, Khem, Xalek…”

“Khem and Xalek are both loyal to their master though,” Lokin frowned. “And they hate the Zakuulans. They would not betray Imperius or his sister.”

“What about SCORPIO?” Doc asked as he flopped into a seat. “That droid could have sent a notice out, couldn’t she?”

“Her programming won’t allow her to break any orders from Agent Taerich, and he ordered her to stay silent—” Lokin startled at a knock on the Raven’s entrance hatch. “Nobody followed us…”

Talos quickly checked the ship’s external camera and nodded. “It’s just Mako. She probably saw you.” He hurried to the hatch, and a minute later returned with the petite slicer in his wake. “What’s the word?”

“Shara says we might be pulling what the Mandalorians might call a ‘strategic retreat’. The Shereshoy’s ready to fly on her word.” Mako waved at Doc as she sat on another couch and drew her knees up under her chin. “Or it will be when Skadge shows his miserable face again. No idea where he is.” She shuddered, then looked at Doc. “Your Jedi and her spy pissed off most of the galaxy, it seems. The HoloNet chatter I’ve been picking up has been insane over the last week. Did Master Taerich actually kill the old Sith Emperor AND Valkorion AND half the Dark Council?”

“Emperors plural, yes. Dark Council, no.”

“And not while riding a tentarak either? Darn.” Mako nodded at Doc’s blink. “Yeah, that’s a really popular rumour floating around the HoloNet, right along with her seducing Darth Marr and Arcann at different times, and apparently Marr is the real power behind the Eternal Throne and Arcann’s just a puppet, and Agent Shan is —”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Doc muttered as he dropped his head into his hands.

“Okay, I’ll tell you later.” Mako grinned impishly, then turned serious again. “They’re still with the old man, right? Where are they?”

Lokin frowned worriedly at the entrance hatch of the ship. “I don’t know, young Mako. Nor do I know where Imperius and Shara are, or his people. And that worries me.”

“Almost as much as the realization that the Zaks will be looking here next when they don’t find you or Master Taerich and Agent Shan in Imperius’ residence.” Talos frowned in thought. “But if we run now, it’ll alert the Zakuulans of something suspicious…”

“Not if the logs show you leaving two days ago. I can get in and alter that. The old man showed me a bypass.” Mako grinned, then glanced to the side as Talos’ datapad chimed. “Updating from the darjetii?”

Talos snatched up the datapad, and Doc watched his face pale. “Alter the logs, Mako. He’s telling us to run.”

“Hoo boy. I’m sticking around until Shara tells me to go.” Mako jumped back to her feet and ran to the Raven’s exit. “Good luck!”

Doc heard the sound of the airlock resealing as Mako left Sorand’s ship, and staggered back to his feet to follow Talos to the bridge of the transport. The other man quickly slid into the pilot’s seat, fingers flying over the control panels with practiced efficiency. He glanced down at another message from the Sith. “Blast it,” he muttered, “I haven’t scratched your ship yet and I don’t plan on starting now!” Pulling up on the controls, the Raven rose smoothly from the hangar and fled through Dromund Kaas’ storms before the Zakuulan forces could reach the ship, vanishing into hyperspace.

Xaja barely dared to breathe as the lift descended, her fingers curled into Theron’s jacket tightly enough to start cramping. Under cover of the stealth generator, they’d managed to creep along after Reanden through the apartment, Shara only a step behind them. The Jedi’s heart had lurched into her throat every time one of the Zakuulans or Imperial troopers had looked their way; she’d felt Theron’s grip on her arm tighten as his own fear pulsed through their bond. Could they have fought? Perhaps. But the Exarch had a fearsome reputation as a skilled fighter, and Sorand and Reanden both would have been compromised or killed for protecting them. And Xaja wasn’t sure she was up to a fight now.

She looked to the side as the ‘droid’ flickered and was replaced by Reanden, worry darkening his eyes. “Stay under that field,” he whispered as he pulled his comm up to his mouth. “SCORPIO, prepare the ship for departure. Have there been any Zakuulans in your location?”

“Negative, Agent,” came the cool answer from the comm. “I will notify you if that changes.”

“Good.” Reanden looked back at Shara as the Mandalorian touched a hand to her helmet. “What’s your latest?”

“I’ve warned Mako and she’s prepping my ship to fly. I’m parked right beside Sor’ika’s ship. She’ll be in contact with Talos and keep me posted.” Shara turned the T-visor to the old agent, and the empty-appearing space that Xaja and Theron occupied. “What’s the plan?”

“Lokin will get Doctor Kimble out of danger. It’ll help that Kimble’s not the high priority target.” Reanden’s mouth tightened in a frown. “If the Zakuulans got word of Sorand sheltering them, they’ll be investigating his ship and hangar. I’ll get them to my ship and get off-world.”

“You gonna need a hand with that at all?”

There was a sigh as Reanden contemplated the options. “No, you being seen in my company will cause too much attention. Head back to your hangar and get your ship prepped for a hasty retreat. If shit goes sideways, you’re Sorand’s last option out of here.”

“Got it.” Shara’s helmeted head moved in a sharp nod. “Be careful… all of you.”

“You as well. I’d expect the Exarch to be looking into you more closely now — be wary.”

“Great.” There was the hiss of an exaggerated sigh under the helmet as the lift stopped moving and slid open. “I’ll look forward to a visit from our benevolent overlords.” The bounty hunter stepped out and down a corridor; Reanden waited a moment before following her, as though he was on his own separate business. Xaja crept out after her father, Theron right beside her, close enough that she could feel his body heat through their clothing.

The door to the exterior opened, greeting them with a cool burst of wind and the sound of ever-falling rain. “Bloody typical,” Reanden muttered out loud as he stepped into the drizzle, hunching his shoulders into his jacket. “Quickly,” he hissed as he started walking, acting for all the world like this was an ordinary errand he was on.

Xaja followed after him on shaking legs as Theron’s hand slid down to find her own, fingers tightening around hers enough to be almost painful. But she could withstand that discomfort — and really, she didn’t blame him, not when she could hear her own pulse roaring in her ears. He was every bit as alarmed and nervous as she was. And through the Force, Xaja could pick up slight pulsings of her father’s Force-signature, despite his mental shielding and his flawless pazaak face: Reanden was worried too, both for the daughter he was smuggling out and the son he’d left behind. If Sorand was implicated in sheltering three of the galaxy’s most wanted fugitives…

Sorand’s smart though. He’s clever and powerful, both in rank and with the Force. He can look after himself, can’t he? He won’t let the Exarch shove him around. Xaja almost felt a little better until she remembered that Arcann or his sister Vaylin could come to investigate the reports themselves, and that sent her anxiety skyrocketing again. He’s not that strong… is he? He’s not like Korin where he would likely say something to escalate the situation… right? Theron’s hand squeezing her own helped bring her back down to the planet’s surface — he could feel her fear as clearly as she could sense his. Focus, focus. You can worry about your brother once you’re not within sniffing range of half the bloody Empire.“How far is the hangar?” she whispered at her father’s back.

“Several minutes’ walk,” Reanden answered, his voice low enough Xaja had to strain to hear it. When he turned his head to look to the side, she could see his lips barely moving. “There’s a shorter route, but it goes through a main thoroughfare. Too many Sith that way.”

Great. Xaja worriedly glanced around as Kaas City’s avenue passed under their feet, shuddering at the feeling of cold rain trickling down her back and neck. Blast it — even if her Force-usage was only passively sensing things around her, she was still too visible in the Force’s currents. Even with her best efforts at mental shielding, she feared she would stick out like a bright spark against Dromund Kaas’ darkness. Maybe the monster in your head will shield you, she mused.

And maybe Vitiate… Valkorion… whatever the kriff his name was would do the rest of the galaxy a favour and slink out of her head to fade out of existence somewhere outside the reaches of the known galaxy.

She stumbled over her own feet, nerves stealing her coordination when a couple of ensigns appeared from around a corner. She heard a muffled grunt as Theron walked directly into her back, spurring her back into motion to keep up with her father. She glanced at the two officers, desperately hoping they hadn’t heard or sensed anything out of the ordinary…

Neither of them so much as looked at the couple hidden under the stealth field. They just glanced at the Intelligence Commander before hurriedly averting their gazes and continuing on their way. It was fortunate the memories of Imperial Intelligence were still strong among the Empire’s population, and Reanden barely had to raise an eyebrow to apparently remind people of how easily he could make them disappear. For once, Xaja found herself grateful for Intelligence’s fearsome reputation as the two ensigns continued on their way… then a woman in civilian garb walked by at a hurried pace, open wariness in her gaze… Dad, just what the kriff have you done to earn this type of reputation? Or are you just reaping the benefits of Intelligence’s history? Perhaps not knowing details of her father’s career history was for the better.

But it couldn’t have lasted. A tall, broad-shouldered Pureblood Sith marched down the street, seemingly not caring about the Sith Intelligence Commander in his walking path. “Agent,” he growled out at the human spy. “Skulking in back streets like the rest of your kind?”

“And you just enjoy strolling off the main roads yourself?” Reanden asked with a raised eyebrow, not breaking his stride.

“Know your place, spook.” The Sith’s golden eyes narrowed menacingly. “You will address me properly.”

“Certainly… acolyte. Or did you graduate, or whatever the proper term is for Sithlings in training?”

The Sith spat at Reanden’s boots, a sneer cutting across his face. “Watch yourself. Being one of Imperius’s favourites does not grant you immunity from the Empire’s Wrath. My master will put you back in your place if —” He trailed off, eyes narrowing as he looked around. “… if he finds a reason to…”

Dread clenched itself around Xaja’s heart as Theron’s grip tightened on her. She could feel the Sith’s mind reaching out, probing the Force, saw her father tense in a ready stance —

The cloud of darkness pushed against her mental shields, followed shortly by the Sith’s delightedly cruel grin as a very physical Force-push sent Xaja flying backward into Theron and knocking them both over, the impact on the ground hard enough to knock out the stealth generator. “What have we here? The same bloody Jedi and Republic spy that the entire galaxy’s looking for, in Kaas City?” A blood-red lightsaber snap-hissed to life with a menacing hum. “My master will be very interested to hear of this —”

There was a flurry of motion. Xaja felt herself being pushed down as she reached for her own lightsaber as Theron drew a blaster, covering her with his own body as he aimed to fire before his weapon was thrown away with the Force, skittering down the duracrete. The Sith’s sneer suddenly disappeared in a shocked expression and a gurgle, however, as a vibroblade was driven into the back of his neck and out through his throat. Dark red blood spurted from the fatal wound, staining the black armour the Sith wore. Reanden swore a blue streak under his breath as he struggled to lower the larger Sith quietly to the ground. “Shit. No way this is ending quietly now.”

“Who was he?” Theron lowly asked as he got back up and turned to give Xaja a hand up before hurrying to retrieve his blaster.

“Only one of the bloody Wrath’s apprentices. And if Maglion knows you’re here, in my company…” Xaja didn’t need a spy’s training to see the fear in her father’s eyes. He dragged the Sith’s body behind a refuse bin and scowled at the blood staining his jacket, a colourful assortment of various alien curses pouring from his mouth. Xaja had to blink -- she hadn’t known her father could swear in that many languages. “Blast it. You two all right?”

“Maybe some bruises, not worth worrying about.” Xaja frowned down at her damp clothing, then looked back at the shadow of the Sith’s corpse. “Will the Wrath be nearby?”

“If he is, we’re already dead. You two better start praying he’s not in Kaas City right now. He’ll have probably sensed that.” Reanden swore under his breath again as he cautiously looked around for other witnesses. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to have cleared out even faster when the Sith had first appeared, and the alley was empty. “We need to be gone before someone finds the body. Get that stealth field back online, quickly. You need to be offworld ten minutes ago.”

A pair of eyes narrowed suspiciously as the Imperial trooper looked around the apartment. Imperius lived by surprisingly-modest means: Most of his budget seemed to go toward books and not decor. But that wasn’t what set the soldier’s senses on alert. It was the rumpled beds; the excess of blankets left on the couch in the upper sitting room; the abandoned half-mug of caf on the table. He surreptitiously swiped the mug, emptying the still-warm caf down the ‘fresher drain before slipping the object into his belt pouch. Perhaps it only had Imperius’ DNA signature on it, but it was worth investigating.

Keen eyes picked up on other tells that the Exarch missed while she was cowering from a very-pissed-off Imperius. A novel, left out of place on the table… a dark robe, too small to fit Imperius, hanging on a clothing rack… a strand of long red hair left behind on the couch. Imperius’ hair was about that long, but far darker, and the Mandalorian woman’s hair was brown. But Master Taerich’s hair was about that long… The hair was plucked off the couch and secured in another pouch.

It was some time later that Agent Kovach stood in the Intelligence laboratory, still in his guise as an Imperial soldier, staring in mute shock at the DNA results from the hair and mug he’d stolen. That was Theron Shan’s genetic code on the mug, and Kovach was indeed pleased to know the rival spy was still alive and had been here. But the hair -- it flagged in both Imperial and Republic databases. Xaja Taerich had been here indeed, and she’d happened to pick a former associate from the Revanite and Ziost crises to hide with…

Kovach pulled up Taerich’s face as well as Imperius’, and stepped back to study both humans. Both powerful Force-users, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything… both claiming Lavisar as a homeworld, and Corellian heritage from a deceased mother… eerily similar eye shapes, smiles, and slender builds…

He looked down at the DNA comparisons and shook his head. And they shared parents.

A series of flurried typing into the secure holoconsole brought up his own direct line to Chancellor Saresh’s office. “Pardon the interruption, ma’am,” he said as the Twi’lek appeared, “but you’re going to want to know what I just found out about Master Taerich…”

Several minutes of hurried walking later, and one close call with a routine patrol, passed before the hangar door finally came into view. Theron breathed out a small sigh of relief as the door slid open, revealing the waiting Shadow. “I’ve never been so glad to see that ship in my life,” he muttered as he hurried toward the vessel behind Reanden, Xaja tightly holding onto his hand.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re not out of the woods yet, kid.” Reanden glanced over his shoulder as he remotely activated the entry ramp for the ship. “Get on board and out of sight. Hurry!”

The stealth field generator deactivated with a click as Theron ran up the ramp with Xaja, the tension in his back only slightly easing in the safety of the shuttle. As Reanden hurried up after them and turned toward the bridge of the Shadow, the spy’s two passengers followed him down the narrow corridor, pausing before reaching the door. “Any updates from Sorand?” Theron asked as he wrapped his arm protectively around Xaja’s thin shoulders. She leaned into his side, but he could still feel her shaking against him, and he didn’t think it was from the cold rain.

“The Exarch is still rooting around his apartment,” Reanden absently responded as he started briskly tapping commands into the console of his ship, glancing at a datapad. “He sent Talos offworld with Lokin and Kimble, no reports of his ship being stopped. It appears your friend made it offworld safely, Xaja.”

“That’s good news.” Xaja sighed in visible relief, her shoulders relaxing slightly under Theron’s arm. “Shara?”

“No word yet, but she should be prepping her ship to leave in a hurry. She’s Sorand’s last option out of —” Reanden jerked his head up at a beeping from his console and swore. “Fierfek.”

“What?” Theron leaned in to squint at the blinking light on the console. “What’s wrong?”

“Patrol coming through the hangar. Imperial, looks like it’s routine, but considering we just killed a Sith, I’m not taking any chances.” Reanden straightened and spun to shoo his two passengers back down the corridor. “In the stern cargo holding area, there’s a compartment under the floor. The hatch is located beside the storage locker. It’s big enough for two people to hide. Get down there and stay put until I come and get you.”

Xaja frowned in confusion. “Why the kriff do you have a hidden compartment that —”

“Long story, baby girl. We get offworld alive, I’ll explain later. Hurry!” Reanden turned back to call to the bridge. “SCORPIO, how close are we to being able to fly?”

“If the spaceport authority does not hamper our takeoff, we can be offworld in minutes…”

Theron didn’t hear the rest of the droid’s words as he hurried through to the back of the ship, Xaja’s hand held tightly in his own. True to Reanden’s words, when he felt around the deck below the large storage locker, he found a concealed lever for the hatch and lifted it with a grunt, holding it open long enough for Xaja to slip inside before he followed her and lowered the deck plating over them. The compartment was nowhere near spacious or luxurious, but it was enough for him to stretch out without his legs or back cramping. In the blackness, he felt Xaja press herself against him — and now the shaking was even more pronounced. He squirmed until he could roll over and tightly hug her. “Shhh,” he murmured into her hair. “Are you okay?”

Xaja shook her head into his chest, her thin fingers tangling in his shirt. Theron felt her hesitate for a moment before she finally mumbled “It’s the darkness, and the cold, and…”

She wasn’t frightened of the dark before being shoved in carbonite. Theron tightened his grip on her, soothingly rubbing her back. “It is freezing down here,” he grumbled in agreement. “Hopefully your dad comes to get us out soon.”

“If he doesn’t get shot first,” Xaja whispered, and now Theron could sense the tendril of fear tracing a line through their bond. “Or if the Zaks don’t connect him to us, or…” The fear blossomed into full-fledged anxiety.

Shit. Panicking Jedi was not something Theron had ever found himself good at dealing with. But a panicking Jedi around any sort of enemy Force-user would get them killed, and he had no way of knowing if there was a Sith in that patrol. “Shhh,” he murmured again, kissing her forehead as he tightened his hold on her. “Your dad is the single most stubborn, conniving asshole I’ve ever met. He’s not going to get himself killed -- or us.”

Xaja made a sound that most closely resembled a strangled, somewhat-hysterical laugh. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my dad can piss off entire planets as easy as breathing.”

“And have them eating out of his hand in the next breath. You know he’s damn good, sweetheart. He won’t let us get killed and — dammit, I can’t believe I’m saying positive things about your kriffing dad, of all people.”

That earned him a light swat on the arm, but Xaja seemed to have been brought back down off her anxiety for the time being. Theron forced himself to smile as he kissed her hair before the pair settled in to quietly wait. There were the sounds of muffled voices from above… heavy bootsteps walking… someone moved into the cargo hold area, standing directly on top of the two hiding fugitives before moving on. This was hardly Theron’s first experience with hiding in a storage compartment to be smuggled in or out of somewhere, but this instance was making him almost as fearful as the Jedi he was protecting. He barely dared to breathe as he slowly positioned himself over Xaja protectively, straining his ears to listen for the patrol moving around, and swore under his breath when the ship’s engines suddenly kicked in, loud enough to drown out every other sound. But the Shadow was moving, and Reanden wouldn’t have taken off with intruders still aboard his ship, would he? Another thought came to mind that made Theron frown. The old bastard wouldn’t jump to hyperspace with his passengers still in the compartment, would —?

The panel was suddenly lifted away, with a rush of cool air and blinding light that made both Theron and Xaja wince. “Sorry about that,” Reanden said as he reached into the compartment to help Theron out. “Nosy bastard in charge of that patrol. I’m not taking chances with you two.”

“Appreciate it,” Theron grunted as he accepted the hand out, then turned as Xaja was pulled out next. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure yet. We have to discuss what few options you two have.” Reanden started walking back toward the main area of the ship, but not before Theron saw the worried crease in the old man’s brow, or the hunch of his shoulders. He was every bit as worried as they were. “Come.”

Saresh stared down at the files that Kovach had transmitted, shock coursing through her at this new revelation. The legendary Master Taerich, Hero of Tython, Commander of the Jedi Forces on Corellia, Battlemaster of the Order, and the single most stubborn, infuriating Jedi the Order had ever produced, was the sister of Darth-bloody-Imperius. She still had no idea what the Sith’s birth name was, but apparently his surname had once been Taerich, and the siblings had been close if the Jedi had run to him for help on Dromund Kaas. She absently wondered which sibling was the elder.

They worked together during the Revanite incident, Saresh mused to herself as she stared at the images of Imperius and Master Taerich’s faces. Yes, now she could see the resemblance between the two. And they were cooperating on Ziost with Shan and that privateer. I wonder how that smuggler’s connected… She would have to look into the identity of Captain Korin, last name unknown, later, and perhaps look into Cipher Nine, if any information could be gathered on the Imperial spook. He’d been there during the Revanite incident as well. But right now, this stain on Master Taerich demanded her attention. If she was working with Imperius on Ziost, perhaps the fault can’t all be laid on Shan for that disaster. If she compromised the Republic to appease her brother… who else has she betrayed on his behalf? The Twi’lek frowned in thought. Or had the Sith compromised the Empire for his sister? No, Marr or Acina would have killed him. But Marr was working with Taerich too. That’s two of the Dark Council who kept her in their confidence, yet Shan and his mother worked with them on Yavin, too. Was this a joint effort of treason, or was Taerich acting on her own to help her brother?

A slow smile started to spread across her face. If the image of the venerable Jedi war hero was tainted by a close familial connection to the Dark Council, Taerich and Shan would be unable to skulk under the radar should they return to Republic Space, with fewer people willing to hide them. If Zakuul knew of Taerich’s family connections, it could be what took the pressure off the Republic to produce the Jedi and the rogue spy in her company. And if the Empire was the one under threat from the Eternal Fleet, perhaps the Republic finally had a shot at taking the Sith down, once and for all.

Saresh pressed a button on her desk, and moments later one of her aides appeared before her. “Arrange for a direct call to Emperor Arcann,” she ordered. “I have news regarding the assassin that he will want to hear.”

#drastic measures #KOTFE AU #theron/xaja #DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUN #sneaky spies gonna sneak #splitting the crew up #the rumour mill is always interesting af #there's always a complication #or five #shit just got REAL #whole new meaning to family drama #this is gonna wreck Xaja and Sorand's stainless reputations #mwahahahaha #entering kovach #who lives to spy another day #schemey Saresh is gonna scheme #Clan Taerich's in trooooooouuuuuble!

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