#the things i do for you Viceroy *shakes him* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

passable-talent · 3 years

Note

part 2 for the sith reader plleeeaasee????? im loving it

part one here

I’m aware of the memability of the youngling massacre and i know i promised to not make reader/anakin redeemable but,,, im gonna do it anyway. strategically it doesnt make sense to murder the next generation and also reader is constantly trying to make anakin believe they’re doing the right thing. reader doesn’t have the luxury of saying ‘do it or padme dies’. they’ve got to be smarter than palpatine was.

Good news: you’re a Sith Lord. Palpatine is gone. Anakin’s on your side. Also, he loves you, that’s good.

Bad news: you now have so much more on your plate. You’ve got to activate the clones to kill the Jedi, give a speech before the Senate, accompany Anakin to Mustafar to get rid of the Separatists, there was just so much to do, and in so little time.

So, no matter how you wished to stay in his embrace forever, you pulled from Anakin’s arms, brushing back his hair sweetly.

“Love, we need to start moving against the Jedi,” you said softly, righting his very disheveled robes. “You have to go to the temple. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“I can’t kill any Jedi,” he said, breaking your gaze. In response you hugged him tightly, comfortingly. You’d known he would worry about that.

“I know, I know, I’m not asking you to.” His loyalty to you was strong, but you knew it was not yet unbreakable. “The Younglings- they can be saved. I’ll take care of the Jedi, but you need to make sure they’re safe.” He nodded, fixing the last few details of his tousled robes, and kissed you one last time before he left the room.

Which left you alone, with your thoughts, and some very knotted hair.

It took a moment to clean yourself up as well, but soon enough you could take a seat at Palpatine’s desk, calling up the communications you’d seen under his fingers a thousand times. The Clones’ slave chips would take over their will the moment you gave the order, and you bit your lip for a moment, wishing you could be there in person to see it all. But you had something much more important to do with your time.

You pulled your hood over your head and opened your communications to all of the Clone Squadron Leaders.

“Execute Order Sixty Six,” you said, and the words burned on your tongue.

You didn’t really have time to waste, you see. You had to meet Anakin at the temple, ‘find’ the evidence you’d plant, rush back to the Senate, then make it to Mustafar. You had a very full schedule for the afternoon, and yet- you couldn’t help it.

You leaned back in the chair, closed your eyes, and opened yourself to the Force. You reached out across the galaxy, feeling into the light, and the dark. Through it, you felt a thousand Jedi dying. And nothing, well, almost nothing, had ever felt so good.

The Jedi Killer, you’d been, in the Clone Wars. And though the generation of them did not die by your saber, it was your order, your decision, your words, that had brought them down. You weren’t just a killer. You were a crusader.

Once you’d gotten your breath back, you pulled up a different communication, one wired to a meeting hall on Mustafar, full of people you despised. Nute Gunray, Shu Mai, truly awful people. People who had come to power, and did nothing with it but collect wealth. Disgusting, truly- when one comes to power, they’re meant to wield it, just as you were. But these people only cared about their trade, their capitalism. Pitiful.

“Viceroy,” you said with a dark smile, eyes hidden beneath your cloak.

“Lord Errar,” Nute acknowledged you with a bit of surprise in his voice, “Where is Lord Sidious?”

“He has just a bit to take care of in the Senate,” you said with a wicked smile. Nothing made your soul spark like a well-crafted lie. “Once that’s taken care of, I will pay you a visit, to give you your reward for your help. When the night is over, my friends, you’ll be left in peace.” Giving them no time to ask questions, you closed the communication, delivering your last word to an empty office.

“Pieces.”

The last thing you needed to do before you left was nice and easy- the press of a button. Hidden away in the far corner of the Chancellor’s desk was a button meant only for emergencies, which is certainly why you used it now, of course. The death of the chancellor was an emergency, wasn’t it?

You called a senate meeting.

Once that was done, you knew you had only an hour before the senators would be expecting you, so you found your saber and hurried to your speeder. It didn’t take long to get to the Temple, where you had sent Anakin. He had rescued the younglings from their training, in the midst of the battlegrounds that the Temple had become, and gotten them away to their chambers, in the care of droids. He met you in the center of the temple, Jedi and Clones alike scattered around the floor. So caught up in his mission, he hadn’t noticed how long you’d been at the temple, working your way through the files.

“I told them that I’d come back when it was safe,” he said, “The droids will take care of them.”

“Good,” you breathed, giving him a quick kiss under the ear. You took his hand, and slowly tugged him toward the communications center of the temple. “I have to show you something.” You pulled up the files you’d been painstakingly preparing for months, crafting them, ensuring they looked as though they were written by Jedi fingers.

On them were plans from the other side of the Clone Wars, supporting the Separatists. They held details about the destruction of the Senate, the assassination of the Chancellor, without even knowing he was a Sith. And of course, your magnum opus, the most perfect thing you could’ve included- the passage that described how the Jedi would allow the Dark Side of the Force, the Sith, to rise in power so that the Jedi could shift the blame for the war to the Sith. This, you knew, would hurt Anakin most of all- that the Jedi had completely ignored their duty to fight the Dark.

“I just don’t understand,” you said softly, shaking your head, darkness pulsing deep in your chest with a beautiful, well-crafted lie. “I thought- I thought that Sidious was behind the war. But even he was being manipulated by the Jedi, he was going to be gotten rid of so that the Jedi could control the Senate.” Anakin couldn’t look away from the holograms.

“Anakin, I’m so sorry,” you breathed, lacing your arms around the closest of his, hoping to give him even the slightest comfort, as he accepted that the people who’d raised and trained him were so evil. Apparently.

“There’s some good news, though,” you said, motioning to one of the holograms, “We now know where the Separatist leaders are. You and I- we can go...” you paused, seeming to stumble to find the proper word. “...Remove them.” Finally breaking his eyes away from the holo, he nodded, pulling you just a bit closer.

You kissed his cheek, giving him a moment to grieve.

“I should inform the Senate,” you said, “They’ve never met me, but I was the Chancellor’s apprentice. They’ll respect me.” His flesh hand came to your face, and you leaned into it, closing your eyes for the briefest of moments to drown in his affection.

“Be careful,” he told you, and you nodded.

“Can you-” you said, shaking your head briefly, trying to be gentle with him. “Come with me, please. I don’t want you to stay here by yourself.” He nodded, and together you walked to your speeder, taking it to the Senate hall.

And this- this was to be your masterpiece.

“Senators-” you began, aligning your shoulders in a way that had you looking powerful enough to command their attention, but nervous enough they wouldn’t suspect you for foul play. “I’m afraid I have some very disturbing news for you.”

"I was an apprentice to the late Chancellor Palpatine, a gifted and respected leader who guided our republic through the first war in generations. I’m saddened to inform you, though, that this war was not what you’ve been told.” Whispers rippled through the senate’s hall.

“The Jedi, to whom this Senate entrusted the peace of the galaxy, had given power to the Separatists, in order to stir up the war. Earlier this very day, four Jedi masters ambushed myself and the Chancellor in his office...” you trailed away, bringing up emotion to stir their sympathy.

“I only escaped thanks to one young Jedi who still represents what the Jedi Order was meant to. The Chancellor was not so lucky.” You felt it as grief rolled through the room, and fought away a smile. They believed your every word- of course they did.

“On the battlefields, the horror of the Jedi and their plans were realized, and many of them were executed for crimes against the republic, following the Chancellor’s dying wishes. His other...” You shook your head, as though disbelieving what you were about to propose.

“His other wish on his deathbed was that I carry on his work. That I guide the Republic into a future of peace.” The energy in the room shifted, but not toward the negative. No, they trusted you. They were considering giving your former mentor’s power to you. They just needed a little more.

“I know you’ve never seen me before, you have no reason to trust me. I implore you, honorable senate, to believe me. I will see it that this Republic is capable of recognizing traitors, as the Jedi had become. I will see to it that the remaining traitorous Jedi are hunted down and executed. I promise to lead this Senate into the future!”

The cheer went up.

“I vote to reorganize the Republic, into something stronger, more powerful, more capable of destroying threats to the peace!”

The energy was beautiful, lifting you to levels of bliss you had never felt before. You were to be the most powerful Sith there had ever been, controlling the Senate, the Republic, the Sith, the Jedi.

The Republic. Such a name didn’t have quite the ring you wanted. You were to be, what, Chancellor? No, no, that wouldn’t do.

“Together, we will create the first Galactic Empire- a beacon of hope for the galaxy, the strongest protector of the peace that the galaxy has ever seen!”

Emperor. Now that was a title you were proud to carry.

“We have to hurry,” you told Anakin as you strode from the meeting hall, “The Separatists might hear word that we know their location. We’ve got to get to them before they move.”

They hadn’t- they waited, like the proper pawns they were, for the reward you had promised them. Such a reward came in one of two forms:

Anakin’s saber, or yours.

You had planned out everything that would happen this day, everywhere you would go, every bit of it. You knew every step, and were never caught off guard.

Until you discovered Obi-Wan Kenobi waiting outside of your ship.

You had to make a decision fast- how you were going to play this. Obi-Wan was a talented Jedi, and possibly the one person who you’d be incapable of manipulating, thanks to that strong Jedi code. He was also the only person who Anakin might be loyal to, over you.

So, you let Anakin have his reunion, as though you hadn’t even noticed Obi-Wan.

You stayed close, but you hadn’t thought to make Anakin realize he’d have to stand opposed to Obi-Wan, so you had to wait for the proper moment to interject yourself.

“Anakin, are you alright? There’s been so much happening- I was so worried.” You knew Obi-Wan had noticed you, but for all of Obi-Wan’s faults, at least he knew that you were no threat to Anakin.

“I’m fine,” Anakin told him, and you recognized what he was feeling- he was pushing away his emotions, as the Jedi Order had always told him to.

“Master Yoda has lost contact with Master Windu- we don’t know what happened. Do you?”

And there it was. The moment you’d been waiting for.

“Stop,” you groaned, crossing your arms. “You know exactly what Windu was doing. You know exactly where he was today.” You stepped forward, putting yourself almost between Obi-Wan and Anakin.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, astonished by your presence. He’d known you were there, but something about you now almost reminded him that you were barely an adult, just like Anakin. “No, sith apprentice, I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s a lie!” you shouted, not yet bringing up your saber. You put your arm in front of Anakin, as though protecting him from Obi-Wan. “You’re done lying to him!”

“Excuse me?”

“Mace Windu along with three other Jedi masters were sent to murder the Chancellor of the Republic so that the Jedi could assume control! Anakin and I found the plans in the Jedi temple ourselves!” Obi-Wan’s expression fell, and he didn’t look away from you.

“What are you talking about?”

You shared a glance with Anakin, and suddenly, you had an idea.

“They didn’t even tell you?” You whispered, turning your gaze to the floor as though you were considering. You were, though, honestly- there was no reason why this needed to end with Obi-Wan dead, not if you could reel him in just as cleanly as you did Anakin. And if you failed, then to Anakin it would feel incredibly genuine that Obi-Wan would need to die, ensuring his loyalty either way.

You brought your gaze to Anakin’s, and offered him the slightest pitiful smile.

“Maybe he can be trusted,” you said, offering him the hope that his master was redeemable. Lifting your chin as though gathering your wits, you turned to Obi-Wan, something under your ribcage sparking again with the love of a good plan seeing itself through.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Master, but the Jedi had been plotting the death of Chancellor Palpatine, and once he was gone, they were going to assume control of the Senate. Your masters have been behind this war, all along. It’s all very-” You shook your head. “Despicable.”

“It can’t be true,” Obi-Wan said, his voice stealing air from his lungs, his chest seeming to deflate, and this couldn’t have possibly worked out better.

“We found the plans, in the Temple,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan looked at his former Padawan.

“I assure you, Master,” you said, lowering your head, “I just want the galaxy in peace. I know you aren’t inclined to believe me, I understand...” It occurred to you that if he knew the whole of the story, he might be swayed toward you.

“Anakin and I are a Dyad,” you told him, and Anakin’s entire presence in the Force pulsed with surprise. “I always thought that it meant we were destined to be enemies, but I guess the future is harder to predict than that.” Obi-Wan studied you briefly, looking over your face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty. He underestimated you- you breathed dishonesty, it was in your bloodstream. Why would he be able to see it on you?

“You are a sith, are you not?” Obi-Wan asked, presumably weighing whether or not he could trust you.

“I was abandoned by my master, because of how I felt for Anakin,” you told him, and none of it was a flat lie. That was your specialty- you were surprisingly honest, if one listened with a close enough ear. You reached out to take Anakin’s hand, an unabashed show of affection that felt quite teenaged. “I just want him to be safe.”

“If I can trust you, (Y/N), which I’m not sure I can,” Obi-Wan said, “I’ll help restore the galaxy in every way I can.”

-🦌 Roe

part 3

#reader insert #angst #sith!reader #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x sith reader #anakin skywalker x sith reader #star wars #Star Wars prequels #fics

250 notes · View notes

raeality · 3 years

Text

Star Wars WLW Week | Day 4

Day 4 Prompt: Courtship Rituals

Otherwise known as "How To Court An Alderaanian"

Amilyn Holdo gets a lesson in Alderaanian courtship traditions. (~2200 words)

Amilyn is enjoying Aldera’s open-air market with the rest of her Pathfinding class. Leia’s mother, Queen Breha, had suggested they all do a little shopping before eating dinner in the palace that evening, and Amilyn is taking full advantage. She’s already purchased a new fuchsia scarf to wear at said dinner. But mostly it’s nice to wander through the stalls without a mission in mind. Alderaan is a beautiful planet, and its people seem to enjoy creating beautiful things. Amilyn truly loves beautiful things.

She runs into Kier Domadi at a stall featuring a long table crowded with carvings that look to be made out of real wood.

“Kier, what are these?” she asks the native Alderaanian.

He glances between Amilyn and the table. “You’ve never heard of lovespoons? They’re a treasured Alderaanian tradition.”

“These are spoons?”

Amilyn picks up one of the intricately carved wooden objects. There is a shallow depression at one end that could be spoon-like, but because most of the object is a long series of interlocking symbols that have nothing to do with silverware, Amilyn doubt it’s ever being used at a dinner table.

Kier smiles gently at her. He’s a nice boy, but usually a little too academic-minded for Amilyn’s liking. It does make him the right person to ask questions of at least.

“Most people hang theirs as decoration,” Kier explains in his future historian’s voice. “Traditionally, demonstrating both your skill in woodcarving and the dedication of time it takes to make such an object were necessary elements in Alderaanian courtship.”

Amilyn raises her eyebrows at him. “And what about these days? Does anyone still gift these?” There’s an interesting idea taking shape in the back of her mind.

Kier tips his head to one side. “There are dedicated artisans who make them now,” he says, gesturing to the owner of the stall. “And some people continue to purchase them to give to their beloved. Most married couples on Alderaan have at least one lovespoon hanging on their wall. In fact, I can show you a rather famous example in the palace later. The queen keeps the lovespoon the viceroy gave her when they were courting displayed in their throne room.”

Amilyn turns the lovespoon over in her hands, examining the way the polished wood flows from one symbol to the next without a hint of joinery. It would probably take a long time to learn the skill to make something like this.

“Thanks, Kier,” she says, setting the spoon back down on the table. She’s not interested in buying one, but knowing that Leia’s parents have one displayed in a prominent place is making her interesting idea a lot more compelling.

Amilyn is right. It takes a long time before she’s skilled enough to carve a lovespoon of her own.

She immediately finds a teacher back on Gatalenta to teach her the basics, and she takes to making practice pieces with every spare moment she can find. The problem is, she doesn’t have many spare moments. At first, Pathfinding and the Apprentice Legislature take up most of her attention. That’s not the worst because at least she gets to be with Leia while she’s doing those things. They grow ever closer as friends, and Amilyn tries not to pay attention to the way Leia looks at Kier whenever they’re all together.

But then Leia tells Amilyn all about the rebellion now forming against the Empire. And the pair find themselves on a mission to the Paucris System. They manage to warn the rebels gathered there of the Empire’s interest in their location just in time for them to evacuate. But neither of them can save Kier Domadi, that noble fool, who’d come to rescue Leia and ended up caught in the rebel station’s self-destruction wave. Amilyn is sad to lose a friend, and sadder still for Leia who is obviously devastated by Kier’s death. So Amilyn is the one who pilots them all back to Alderaan and keeps the Empire from figuring out just how entangled they are with the rebel cause.

Amilyn is also the one Leia leans on while she’s grieving. So she sets her carving aside to focus on teaching Leia skyfaring and eventually letting her know that it’s okay to smile and laugh again. By the time Leia is formally invested as Alderaan’s crown princess, she and Amilyn are spending nearly all of their free time together.

Once Leia teaches Amilyn how to drive a speeder on Coruscant, all bets on either of them actually being in their city apartments at night are off. They explore as much of Coruscant as they can while the Apprentice Legislature is in session. And Amilyn keeps trying to indicate her more-than-friendship feelings to Leia, but she’s more than a little scared of losing Leia’s actual friendship if those feelings aren’t returned.

And then, one night the two of them make a ridiculous bet. And in the chaotic aftermath of its execution, Leia asks Amilyn to kiss her.

So Amilyn starts carving again. She’s just starting to get competent enough to plan the actual design for a real lovespoon when things with the rebellion get serious. Leia moves on from the Apprentice Legislature so she can take over as Imperial Senator for her father. Amilyn can’t do the same for Gatalenta, but Leia helps her become a civil minister in the Alliance Civil Government. It’s important work obviously, helping to bring the Galactic Republic back from the ashes the Empire scattered across the galaxy. But it means she and Leia hardly have time for each other anymore as their duties pull them to separate star systems more and more.

Amilyn’s heart breaks when she hears about the destruction of Alderaan. She races to be by Leia’s side on Yavin 4, but their reunion is temporary. Leia makes it a mission to save the Alderaanians who were off-world when their home planet was destroyed, and Alliance High Command assigns Amilyn back to her ministerial duties. After a clever idea she had when the ship she was on is caught in a Star Destroyer’s tractor beam, Amilyn is promoted to captain in the Alliance Fleet and her life changes yet again.

She tries to keep tabs on Leia, but the princess of Alderaan is often deep undercover, or otherwise involved with Alliance High Command. They manage to send each other messages on occasion, but Amilyn feels Leia growing distant in more ways than one. She’s seen the smuggler at Leia’s side with the blaster at his hip and a glint in his eyes. Han Solo is the opposite of Kier Domadi in almost every way, but Amilyn feels the same desire not to pay attention when she sees Leia looking at him.

Eventually, Amilyn puts her carving tools away for good. She spends the ensuing decades focused on helping the Alliance and then the New Republic once the Empire has truly fallen. She watches from a respectful distance as Leia marries her smuggler and then has a son with him. But Leia still invites her over and introduces her to little Ben as “Aunt Amilyn.” Their friendship never quite recovers to what it was when they were girls together, but Amilyn isn’t surprised. For her part, she knows that she’ll always be in love with Leia. That alone puts a certain distance between them that can probably never be breached. But Amilyn is glad to have Leia back in her life in whatever capacity she can.

And when a new power in the form of the First Order rises and Leia asks for Amilyn’s help once again, Amilyn is only too ready to join General Organa’s Resistance. She’s put in charge of the Resistance Fleet as a Vice Admiral and she takes to her new command with pleasure.

But Amilyn notices a difference in Leia. And eventually she gets the truth out of her old friend. Her son, Ben, has fallen to the dark side of the Force. And Han is gone; their marriage dissolved in all but name.

Amilyn feels terrible when she pulls out the box with the half-carved lovespoon inside it, the dim hope that has remained in her heart after all of these years trying to flare back to life within her. She looks at the rough shape for a long time. Her fingers ache for the handles of her carving tools, and she can almost smell the peels of exposed wood as they curl back and then drop to the floor.

She shakes her head and puts the box away again.

“Amilyn, what is this?”

Amilyn turns from the pot of Gatalentan tea she’s brewing to see Leia holding up her failed attempt at a lovespoon.

“Ah… That.” Amilyn brings the pot over to the small table in her ready room and pours a glass of tea for Leia and herself. “I didn’t realize generals had permission to snoop through vice admiral’s belongings.” She says it lightly so Leia will know she’s teasing, but Leia still blushes.

“The box was unlatched, and I was curious,” she admits. She settles herself in a chair and reaches for her glass. She inhales the steam with a smile. “I do love this tea.”

Amilyn smiles back at her. “You always did,” she says. She takes a sip of her own tea before running a fingertip over her unfinished carving. “I’ve carried this all over the galaxy with me, you know, but I never have gotten the chance to finish it.”

“You made this?” Leia looks at it again with something like awe in her dark eyes.

Amilyn hums. “I did. And even though it’s not finished, maybe you can guess what it’s supposed to be?”

Leia sets her glass down and picks up the carving. She turns it over and over in her hands. Amilyn tries not to thrill at the way Leia’s fingers glide lovingly over the turns in the wood as though it’s a living thing she has to be gentle with. Finally, Leia holds it out in front of her, taking it in at one glance. She tilts her head.

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

Amilyn steeples her fingers beneath her chin. “The first time I saw one, I didn’t know what it was either,” she says. “I had to get Kier Domadi to explain it to me.”

Leia sucks in a startled breath. Amilyn winces. She shouldn’t have dropped Kier’s name like that without warning. Even decades later, his absence is a grief to them both.

But a moment later, Leia is staring wide-eyed at Amilyn, clutching the carving close to her chest.

“Amilyn,” she says as though she can’t believe the words that are coming out of her mouth. “Is this an Alderaanian lovespoon?”

Amilyn shrugs and gives the princess half a smile. “It was supposed to be. Once upon a time. Like I said, I never have gotten the chance to finish it.”

Leia touches the carving again, and Amilyn sees the moment she starts to understand the symbols Amilyn has been trying to bring out of the wood. The shapes are rudimentary, but identifiable: starships and speeders, a crown and a sword for Leia, twists like skyfaring silks and flames for Amilyn, and at the end where it all comes together is a shallow spoon-like curve in the shape of a heart.

“When did you start this…?” Leia breathes, not quite looking at Amilyn.

Amilyn’s heart is beating faster, and she tries to will it to slow down. She shrugs again, and takes another sip of her tea. “Right after Kier told me about the tradition,” she says. “I knew it would take some time to learn how to carve, so I spent a long time practicing before I started that piece. And of course I never had enough time to work on this one, so I couldn’t ever finish it. And if I couldn’t finish it, I couldn’t tell you…”

“Oh, Amilyn.” And Leia is staring at her now with unshed tears shining in her eyes.

Amilyn’s breath catches in her throat. Leia lays the carving down on the table between them and reaches for Amilyn’s hands. Their fingers intertwine easily, Amilyn’s slender and trembling where Leia’s are sure and strong.

“My dear,” Leia whispers, caressing the backs of Amilyn’s hands with her thumbs. “I’m not sure I deserve your love.”

“And yet you’ve always had it,” Amilyn whispers back. She can feel her own tears gathering in her eyes and she blinks them away furiously. “I have loved you all these long years, Leia, and I will continue to love you until the day that I die.”

“May the Force grant that day is long from now,” Leia says with a tremulous smile. “Amilyn, my dear, dear friend.” And she lifts Amilyn’s hands in hers so that she can kiss the tips of her fingers with soft lips. “Be patient with me if you still can. Stars know I love you too, but my heart has been so bruised…”

“I know,” Amilyn murmurs. “I know it has.”

Leia releases one of her hands to touch the lovespoon again. “May I have this in the spirit with which it was originally intended?” she asks a little shyly.

Amilyn blinks back more tears. “Are you saying you’d like me to court you, Your Highness?”

Leia dips her head and smiles. Her fingers tighten around Amilyn’s as she nods. “Yes.”

And Amilyn thinks she can fly forever on that word alone.

(Author's Note: Lovespoons are a Welsh tradition that I co-opted for this fic. If you want to read a bit more about them, the Wikipedia link is below.)

#AmiLeia #amilyn holdo #leia organa #star wars #fanfiction #writing #sapphic fanfic #starwarswlweek2021

18 notes · View notes

padawanlost · 4 years

Note

skajskahdls read the rots novelization for the first time and in the part where anakin’s murdering the separatists on mustafar there’s THIS exchange: “we were promised a reward,” she gasped. “a h-h-handsome reward-” “i am your reward,” the sith lord said. “you don’t find me handsome?”

The best thing about Vader is that he’s hot and he knows it!

Shu Mai, president and CEO of the Commerce Guild, looked up from her knees, hands clasped before her, tears streaming down her shriveled cheeks. “We were promised a reward,” she gasped. “A h—h—handsome reward—”

“I am your reward,” the Sith Lord said. “You don’t find me handsome?” “Please!” she screeched through her sobbing. “Pleee—” The blue-white blade cut into and out from her skull, and her corpse swayed. A negligent flip of the wrist slashed through her column of neck rings. Her brain-burned head tumbled to the floor. [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

And he does have the best zingers lol

Darth Vader left nothing living behind when he walked from the main room of the control center. Casually, carelessly, he strolled along the hallway, scoring the durasteel wall with the tip of his blade, enjoying the sizzle of disintegrating metal as he had savored the smoke of charred alien flesh.

The conference room door was closed. A barrier so paltry would be an insult to the blade; a black-gloved hand made a fist. The door crumpled and fell. The Sith Lord stepped over it. The conference room was walled with transparisteel. Beyond, obsidian mountains rained fire upon the land. Rivers of lava embraced the settlement. Rune Haako, aide and confidential secretary to the viceroy of the Trade Federation, tripped over a chair as he stumbled back. He fell to the floor, shaking like a grub in a frying pan, trying to scrabble beneath the table.

“Stop!” he cried. “Enough! We surrender, do you understand? You can’t just kill us—”

The Sith Lord smiled. “Can’t I?”

“We’re unarmed! We surrender! Please—please, you’re a Jedi!”

“You fought a war to destroy the Jedi.” Vader stood above the shivering Neimoidian, smiling down upon him, then fed him half a meter of plasma. “Congratulations on your success.”

The Sith Lord stepped over Haako’s corpse to where Wat Tambor clawed uselessly at the transparisteel wall with his armored gauntlets. The head of the Techno Union turned at his approach, cringing, arms lifted to shield his faceplate from the flames in the dragon’s eyes.

“Please, I’ll give you anything. Anything you want!” The blade flashed twice; Tambor’s arms fell to the floor, followed by his head.

“Thank you.”

Darth Vader turned to the last living leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Nute Gunray, viceroy of the Trade Federation, stood trembling in an alcove, blood-tinged tears streaming down his green-mottled cheeks.

“The war …,” he whimpered. “The war is over—Lord Sidious promised—he promised we would be left in peace …”

“His transmission was garbled.” The blade came up. “He promised you would be left in pieces.”[Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

#ask #anon #sw meta #anakin skywalker #darth vader #sw books #sw quotes #meta: anakin #txt

134 notes · View notes

star-whores-a-new-hoe · 4 years

Text

Rescue Mission // Obi Wan X Reader Forever Series: Part Six

Summary: You attempt to rescue Anakin and Obi Wan from the evil clutches of the separatists, but hurtful secrets get reveled in the process.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: Angst, fighting, violence, pining, cussing, Typos probably.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” You whispered hurriedly under your breath as you made your way through the dark, ominous jungle. Clutching your blaster tightly, you stepped over vines and branches, your ears and eyes straining for any sign of movement.

Your heart was beating rapidly but you did your best to suppress your nerves and focus on the task at hand. You were unable to shake the foreboding feeling of being watched by something waiting in the looming darkness.

‘I am literally the least qualified person in existence to be doing this!’ You thought to yourself. The immense metaphorical weight of this situation felt heavy on your shoulders.

Your feet ached like you had been walking for an eternity and you could feel your shirt sticking to your sweaty back, but you didn’t let your guard down for even a second to adjust it.

‘What’s gonna happen if I don’t find them?’ You thought. ‘Or worse, don’t find them?’ Shaking those thoughts from your head, you pushed onward. ‘Keep a clear head, like Obi Wan trained you to do.’

Finally, your ears were met with the sound of movement off in the distance and you swore you could make out a faint light off in that direction. Pausing, you held your breath, straining your ears so that you could listen to the sound of robotic footsteps and metallic voices filling the eerily quiet jungle.

Despite the immense heat, you felt a shiver of fear run down your spine. A sense of panic that began to course through your veins but you did your best to push aside your emotions.

‘What do I do, oh fuck, what do I do?’

You stopped and took a deep breath, absorbing the warm jungle air.

‘What would Obi Wan do?’

You did your best to recall everything that Obi Wan had ever told you about his missions. How he handled hostage situations and tight spots.

Finally, you decided that the best scenario was to locate the two Jedi and get them out as quickly and quietly as possible, not in the process alerting anyone.

‘Besides, I kind of dout that there really is a senator, probably just a trap to get to Ani and Obi.’ You slowly moved towards the sounds of the enemy. Once you got closer, It was very apparent that you were immensely outnumbered. Hundreds of battle droids marched about in a bright, makeshift camp.

You crouched down behind the thick jungle brush and strategically scouted out where the Jedi were most likely to be, making mental note of where the enemy were most clustered together.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted what looked like the only other living thing there. A tall, wrinkled, green man in a headdress who was conversing with a battle droid.

In the hopes of overhearing the location of Obi Wan and Anakin, you moved closer to the two.

“The Jedi are on the other side of the clearing Viceroy Gunray.” The droid said in a high pitched, metallic voice.

“Excellent, our trap worked perfectly! Soon we will be rid of two of the most troublesome Jedi in the order!”

In the bushes, you placed your hand over your mouth, not wanting to take the risk of them hearing your heavy breathing.

“Tell the droids to be ready to exterminate in thirty minutes.” The man (If you could even really call him that) continued.

“Roger roger!” The droid said before walking away.

‘Next step,’ You thought. ‘Spring the trap.’

***

Obi Wan And Anakin sat back to back, wrists and ankles tied together, lightsabers just out of reach and four droids standing guard. Quite a familiar situation for the both of them.

“How did this happen, we’re smarter than this!” Obi Wan mused to himself.

“Do you think Y/n is coming master?” Anakin asked, tossing his head back in a feeble attempt to get his curls out of his face.

“I suppose she is.” Obi Wan didn’t want to let on how terrified he was for your safety, how much of a failure he felt like for getting captured and leaving you to brave the dangers of jungle alone.

“Look, I know you’re worried about Y/n but she can handle herself.” Anakin told him reassuringly. “She’s stronger than you think.” Obi Wan nodded in response, even though Ani couldn’t see it. “Besides, She’s had training. She knows how to handle that blaster.”

“Well if by some miracle she saves us, I don’t think we will ever hear the end of it.”

Anakin smiled. “Her ass is on the line too, without us she has no one to fly her home.”

“That’s definitely some motivation.”

For a time they sat in silence. There wasn’t much need for them to panic as there was no immediate danger, But the thought of you trying to find and rescue them on your own had Obi Wan on edge.

Suddenly, there was a soft rustling from the bushes a few feet behind them. He and Anakin turned their heads just in time to see you stealthily crawl towards them out of the brush. You reached them and used a small knife that you had to cut their hands and ankles free.

“Hi.” You said to Obi Wan, face beaming, your voice barely above a whisper so as not to alert the captors.

“Hello there.” He was beyond relieved to see you here unharmed and alive, but he knew you all still had a long way to go before you were truly safe.

“Almost didn't recognize you with the black eye.” Anakin said before jumping up and using the force to grab both light sabers, handing one to Obi Wan as he stood up.

“Come on let's go.” You said motioning back the way you came, hoping to get away before the droids noticed that the Jedi were free.

“Y/n,” Obi Wan said earnestly. “We must attempt to capture Viceroy Gunray, he is far too valuable an asset to let escape.”

You pursed your lips, obviously not happy about trying to fight your way through a droid army.

“If you feel more comfortable you can head back to the ship-“

“Fuck no!” You said indignantly, “I’m not leaving you guys” With all the gumption you had, you said, “Let’s do this.”

Anakin smiled at you before turning on his saber. “Good call.”

***

You weren’t entirely sure how you got split up from the two Jedi but in the chaos of the fight it was pretty much bound to happen. So there you were, in an isolated clearing without any droids, a foot away from Viceroy Gunray, blaster pointed at his chest.

“They want you alive.” You said, demeanor unwavering. You were thankful that your voice sounded so tough, inside you were completely freaking out.

Viceroy Gunray scoffed at you as you stared into his cold, slimy eyes.

“And you are going to bring me to the Jedi? Some little girl with a black eye-“ his sentence was suddenly cut off by your fist colliding with his face, throwing him to the ground with a harsh thud.

“There, give your eye a few minutes and we’ll match.” He coughed as he propped himself up onto his elbows. “Don’t move.” You commanded, sanding over him, your blaster still aimed at him.

“It’s odd, too see a Jedi fighting without a light saber.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words. “I’m no Jedi.”

He gave you an ugly smile “Our spies say something different.”

You stared at him, perplexed. “W-what…”

At that moment, Obi Wan and Anakin broke through the brush, breathless, with light sabers still ignited in their fists. You kept your gaze on Gunray, waiting for an answer.

“Has Obi Wan not told you?” He chuckled. “It seems someone is force sensitive.”

You whipped your head around to stare at Obi Wan incredulously.

“I'd stop talking if you know what's good for you viceroy.” Anakin said, coming forward to apprehend him with some holo cuffs. You slowly backed away and lowered your blaster in a dazed sort of way.

“The droids are all taken care of and-” Obi Wan began but he was interrupted by you.

“Obi, what was he talking about.” You watched him avert his Ocean blue eyes from you.

“Obi-” Your voice shook with confusion and anger. “Is he...I...You knew?” The sound of utter hurt in your tone wounded him more than a blaster bullet to the heart.

He swallowed thickly before regaining his composure and putting away his saber. “Let us discuss this when we return to the ship.”

***

The walk to the ship was tense and quiet. You walked ahead of the two Jedi, Gunray in custody, your seething rage leaving a path behind you that even the most untrained of Jedi could sense.

As you stomped your way into the ship, Obi Wan and company in tow, you felt your anger boiling up within you, ready to overflow at any minute.

Fists clenched, You whirled on Obi Wan, Anakin awkwardly walked past you into the pilots seat with Gunray.

“Explain.” You said. There was a commanding harshness to your tone.

“The Jedi council has known that there was a possibility of you being force sensitive. They made the executive decision to not tell you for-“

“Don’t you dare fucking say for my own safety!” Your white gripped knuckles shook with anger. “Besides, telling me obviously didn’t do anything to prevent the enemy from knowing.”

“I was simply doing what was best for you Y/n.”

“No! You were doing what was best for the council! If you would let yourself feel a goddamn emotion instead of following everything they tell you too maybe you would have figured that out!” There was no stopping you now, everything you wanted to say to him was spilling out. “I trusted you! I’m literally in another dimension or world or whatever! I’m alone and I trusted you to be with me and to...to…” You stammered for the right words. “To not keep things like this from me!” I You could feel tears of emotion prickling up in your eyes. ‘Don’t let him see the pain!’ You reminded yourself.

Obi Wan was speechless.

You turned you back to him and crossed your arms in a fetal attempt to calm yourself. The presence of his eyes lingered on the back of your head. those words stung, hitting him deep in his heart. You could hear his heavy footsteps walk to the front of the ship, leaving you by yourself. When you were satisfied you were alone, you let the tears and silent sobs of pent up emotion and confusion roll down your cheeks as you stared out at the stars from the ship’s window, The same stars you had admired with him on the way there.

***

When you landed back on Coruscant you fully intended to head back to the apartment and sulk, ‘maybe I could catch a ride with Anakin after he takes care of Gunray. Lord knows I don't want to be near Obi Wan right now.’

As the doors to the ship opened and afternoon light flooded into the ship, you walked out onto the platform. To your surprise, Masters Yoda and Windu stood waiting. You headed towards them, you could sense that they were there for you.

“Y/n, We have much to discuss.” Windu said to you.

“Indeed we do.” You anger was apparent in your voice.

Windu turned to Yoda. “Why don’t you oversee everything with Gunray?” He suggested. As Yoda walked away Obi Wan came to join the two of you.

“What do you need to tell me?”

“We’ve deciphered part of the book.” your face was illuminated with shock.

“And?”

“Why don’t we discuss this somewhere more private?” Windu suggested.

Crossing your arms in defiance you said. “No, I’ve waited six months dude and I’m not waiting a second more, spill.”

Windu was slightly taken aback by your abruptness, yet none of that shone through his stone cold exterior. “The book is written in an old Jedi code, one that has not been used for quite awhile. It speaks of a person from another world coming to ours and what they must do to find out how to get back.”

You held your breath, not daring to believe it. “Yes?”

“It tells of a planet and a ritual, we are working on tracking the plane now but we do expect it to take awhile.”

You could hardly believe it, standing on the platform, the wind blowing in your face, you stared out at the space city you had learned to live in these past few months. All that could change soon.

“There is however, a grave warning.” Turning your gaze back onto Windu, you prompted him to go forward. “The ritual appears to be very dangerous, there is a high risk in death in attempting it. The council has decided it is up to you to choose to go through with it or not.”

“I’ll do it.” You told him without a moment's hesitation. You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and turned to look at Obi Wan, his concern obvious on his face.

“Y/n, You would be putting your life at risk.”

You stared into his eyes, yours hard and devoid of emotion. Shrugging his hand off your shoulder you said to him. “There is nothing for me here.” You knew your words would hurt him. That's why you had said them. ‘Perhaps that was too much.’ Before you considered our actions too much you turned away from the two and stormed away.

***

It had been a week since you came back from the mission and you still hadn’t talked to Obi Wan, instead letting stubbornness take the wheel. In the meantime, you had taken up your training sessions with Anakin.

“You know,” Anakin said tentatively as you stretched out your sore muscles. “I think there’s someone who wants to have a little chat with you.”

You felt your jaw clench with annoyance as you sat on the floor, reaching for your toes. “I’d rather talk to that Gungan right.”

Anakin came over to sit down next to you. “Look, you can't pretend to be mad at Obi Wan forever so what’s the real reason you don’t want to talk to him? I Know what he did wasn’t the best but he feels really bad”

You scoffed and sat up as well. “How can you tell, he doesn’t really show any emotions.”

“Well neither do you.” His words connected something in your brain, like two puzzle pieces coming together. All the times you had pushed your emotions deep down flashed across your mind. Why? Because you were scared?

‘Why don’t I let them see the pain?’

You contemplated his words for a moment. “W-What if I’ve burned all my bridges?” bringing your hand up to your face, you gingerly touched the healing black eye, remembering how hard Obi Wan had tried to protect you during that incident. “I was really harsh, what if he doesn’t want to be... friends?”

Anakin bit back his frustration at neither of you being able to admit your obvious attraction for one another. “I know my master like he’s my own brother, and I know that he will never give up on someone he cares about.”

You sat there in silence for a minute, letting feelings of regret wash over you. But in the middle of all that regret there was a glimmer Hope.

Anakin put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’ll let him know that you want to talk, Alright?”

You nodded. “Alright.”

***

You stood near the edge of the balcony, elbows braced on the railing, letting the cool night air flood your lungs while you stared up at the stars. Stars that didn’t belong to you.

You could sense Obi Wan behind you before you noticed him physically. You could feel his presence behind you, leaning in the doorway that led back into the apartment.

“Hi.” You said, not turning around. You were too ashamed to look him in the eyes at the moment.

His footsteps echoed against the ornate tile of the balcony as he made his way towards You. He rested himself next to you against the railing.

“Hello there.” you swallowed hard and looked down at your hands, anything to avoid eye contact. “I thought about what you said.” You let his words fill the tense air between the two of you. He took your silence as a sign to continue. “I’ve been trained by the Jedi for most of my life, I've been trained to repress all emotions, to do anything to keep my feelings at bay. But your words made me realize that perhaps the jedi aren't right about everything, that repressing emotions can lead to more harm than good.”

You were honestly shocked at how open he was with you. “I suppose you must be rethinking a lot? That must be tough.” You said fidgeting with your fingers.

“Extremely.” He answered. After a short silence he asked “Do you still want to go through with the ritual the book talked of.?”

Biting your lip you nodded. “I-I have to, I can’t just leave my world behind, my family” you paused. “I am sorry though, about saying there was nothing here for me. That was a lie, I really do care for you.” you could sense him smiling.

“You do understand how dangerous it is? You’ll be putting your life at risk.”

“Isn’t that what you do everyday, General Kenobi?” He let out a chuckle before the silence of the city swept over the two of you again.

You used all the courage you had to look him in the eyes. “I want you to know that I’m here for you while you figure stuff out and that i'm sorry I was so harsh on you, you were only doing what you thought was right.” He looked back down at you with his ocean blue eyes, filled to the brim with kindness. “And you're not alone with repressing your emotions. I’m terrified of people… well, of you seeing how… hurt I get. I don't want to be a burden so I just act like nothing is wrong, or sometimes even lash out at people.” Obi Wan put his large calloused hand on top of yours. “I need to start showing people how I feel.”

“Seems that you and I are in the same boat, how about we work on that together, Hmm?” You held your breath for a moment, as you looked up at him, relishing in the feeling of the soft breeze through your hair and Obi Wan’s hand on top of yours. Tentatively, you brought your free hand up to softly cup his cheek, your fingers softly stroking the hair of his beard.

“Obi?”

“Yes?”

You leaned forward slightly. “This is me showing you how I feel.” You leaned forward and pressed your soft lips into his, letting the emotions you had harbored for him for months break free. He brought his hands to your face and deepened the passionate kiss, letting all his feelings and emotions flow out. You could sense him in the force, letting go of everything that held him back, letting himself be freed.

You reluctantly pulled away from him, breathless and panting. Your face glowed with a beautiful smile and you thought to yourself, ‘Finally.’

Tag List: @fangirl-on-bitches @whovianayesha @scarlettsoldier @Million-dollar-legs @thetreandtessa

#star wars #starwars #star wars prequels #Star Wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fan fic #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #obi wan x reader #forever series #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #Star Wars Obi Wan #star wars obi wan kenobi #obi wan clone wars #Obi Wan fanfic #obi wan fanfiction #series

71 notes · View notes

bonesaldente · 4 years

Text

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 13: The Invasion of Naboo

ao3

previous chapter

chapter overview

warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, little bit of biting otherwise no real kinks and I tried to refrain from using overly vulgar language

Disclaimer: please remember that this is fiction, and that you should always use protection when having sex and that you also probably shouldn’t bite unless you asked your partner beforehand idk man you get the idea

ALSO: long chapter ahead, I’m not sorry

words: ~4000

____

Nervously, you pace back and forth in front of the spaceship. Maul has been gone for well over fifteen minutes now, which in and by itself would be no cause for worry - the starship you’ve seen take off from his direction, however, is to be taken as a bad sign.

Something went wrong.

You can’t even get yourself to be annoyed by the heat, all that’s on your mind is Maul’s absence. What if he got injured? What if he is hurt and unable to get back to you, bleeding out somewhere in the desert? Or if the Jedi took him with them? What if, and you shudder at the thought, just now was the last time you saw him?

You flop down onto the ramp, hugging your knees while your fingers start to fiddle with a knife, spinning it - it’s an anxious habit that you’ve had for years, but ever since you were in Maul’s company you dropped it.

But now that he is gone, the urge to do it is right back, proving to you what you always suspected; Your biggest fear is of being alone.

You slowly sway back and forth, still holding on to your own legs tightly, anchoring yourself in the present.

‘He’ll come back’

You repeat it in your head as if saying it would make it true, as if your sheer willpower would be enough to bring him to you right now.

A quickly approaching sound makes your head snap up from where it was buried behind your knees. There, on his speeder, is Maul. Unscathed.

The breath you release feels heavier than any boulder could ever be.

“You’re alive.” You rasp as he steps off the vehicle.

“They got away.” He is fuming, you can tell that in his mind, he is replaying everything that happened, where he went wrong.

“I thought they hurt you. I saw the ship take off and -”

“I wasn’t good enough,” He is shaking his head, face twisted in pain. “They escaped because I failed!”

“You’re alive,” You repeat, insistently, though you know it offers little comfort to him. “You’ll get another chance.”

“This was supposed to be my chance. I was meant to take them out today, but I was too weak, I-”

“Cut it out!” You snap. It would be borderline comical how offended he looks, if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation. “You’re single handedly the best, most dangerous fighter I’ve ever encountered. They got away because they got lucky and there is no point in trying to blame yourself, because it won’t change a thing. Next time, things will go differently.” While you were talking you walked up to him, so that now, you’re close enough to rest a hand against his cheek.

His eyes are wide with astonishment, then they flutter shut as he takes a deep breath, leaning into the touch.

“They won’t escape next time,” he mumbles into your hand.

“No, they won’t,” you whisper back.

The familiar hum of the engine does little to relax you. You’ve given up on sleeping by now, and are just waiting for Maul to finish his call with his master, while your legs lean against the wall and your head hangs upside down from the edge of the bed.

You wouldn’t want to be in Maul’s shoes now - having to tell his master that he failed to kill the Jedi. Actually, you wouldn't want to be in his shoes in the first place; being an apprentice to Sidious seems dreadful enough.

The two of you took off only a few hours after the Jedi left, and as soon as you left the atmosphere, Maul contacted his master. He’s been talking to him in the cockpit ever since, for at least ten minutes now.

The lift doors opening makes you peer to the right, still upside down.

“We are heading- What are you doing?” He looks slightly perplexed.

“I don’t really know,” you admit, stretching out your arms to meet the floor and swiftly rolling off the bed to look at him from a standing position.

“Where are we headed?”

“Naboo. The Trade Federation is taking complete control of the planet and my master foresees that their queen will return there soon. For the time being, we will stay in the palace in Theed.”

“The palace?” You raise your eyebrows. “Not bad. Haven’t slept in a proper bed in forever.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “It will certainly be a pleasant change.”

You wonder if you will share a room. You would like to. Are you two at that stage yet? What’s considered a ‘bed-sharing’ stage? You wouldn’t know, and you doubt it’s something that Sidious taught Maul.

Guess you will just have to let it surprise you when you’re there.

You have to admit; Naboo does have its charm. From what you can see flying over the planet, there’s big lakes, torrential rivers and green forests as far as the eye can see. The settlements you have seen so far all looked small, but far from poor.

You almost feel sorry you’re partaking in the plot to take over their system. Almost.

The capital, Theed, tops it all off. Even you, uncultured as you are, are able to admire the stunning architecture as you close in on the landing platform, but your attention is quickly stolen by the two figures you can make out walking towards the ship, escorted by a group of battle droids.

“The viceroy, and his lieutenant,” Maul utters, still maneuvering the ship for the landing.

“So, on a scale from one to ten, how nice do we need to be to them?”

Maul snorts.

“Let’s put it this way: They need us more than we need them.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

You can feel their eyes on you as the ramp descends, and you don’t need the force to know that they are scared; their postures give it away.

Both you and Maul have got your hoods on, and you hope it will be effective in keeping an air of mystery around you: You have no interest in anyone getting the idea that you are at least a little bit approachable - all of these dirty politicians can stay away from you. Most likely, Maul’s mere presence should accomplish that, but you still like to make your own impression on them.

“Lord Maul, it is our honor to have you here.” Nute Gunray speaks a heavily Neimoidian accented Basic, that is the first thing you notice. The second thing is the way he holds himself; basically cowering before Maul, his whole body language speaking of submission. It is not the appearance of a leader, in your opinion. But, then again, what do you know about politics?

Their gazes are lingering on you, before Gunray resumes speaking.

“We were unaware that you would bring company. Should we prepare another room- ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Maul brushes him off in a dark tone that allows no questions.

“Very well, my Lord.”

So you are at the ‘bed-sharing’ stage. That’s good to know.

Maul sets a fast pace to the end of the landing platform, and it’s entertaining to watch the two Neimoidians struggle to keep up with him despite their much longer legs (their fancy robes are holding them up).

They lead you inside to a lavish conference room, where they start briefing Maul on the situation of the planet. Time and time again you feel Gunray stare at you, his unspoken question up in the air: Is this woman to be trusted?

You just stare right back, almost daring him to voice his concern out loud and see what happens.

He doesn’t.

You have yet to say a single word, but the Neimoidian’s constant looks your way start to annoy you.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Viceroy?” You snap.

The man flinches visibly.

“Respectfully, madam, who are you?” He finally asks.

Good question.

‘Well I used to be a contract killer, but now I work for Lord Sidious and occasionally make out with his apprentice,’ may not be an appropriate answer.

Maul shoots you an amused glance that goes unnoticed by the others and speaks up for you.

“We work together.”

‘Oh, is that what it is?’, you think.

You didn’t expect to hear his voice in your head again, so his reply surprises you.

‘You’re feisty today.’ The corner of his mouth twitches subtly.

Gunray seems to take the hint to not push the matter any further, and continues to explain their moves against local resistance to the invasion. None of it is of much interest to you, so for the next hour or so, you mostly tune out, only listening up whenever the queen and her Jedi protectors are mentioned.

Finally, they seem to wrap it up.

“A droid will show you to your quarters.” The Neimoidian tilts his head as a sign of respect before retreating.

A silver service droid awaits you at the door and starts leading you and Maul through the palace with a low speed that you otherwise would have been irritated by, but it gives you a chance to appreciate your surroundings, so you’re okay with it.

The sun is setting outside, and its rays illuminate the high corridors gently, painting every wall in gold. The setting gives the place an almost magical aura, and it's easy to be entranced by the ceiling-high paintings and statues of queens long gone.

The droid slows to a halt before a large wooden door, its metal torso awkwardly bowing to you before it turns around and leaves you.

The room that’s been designated to you is vast and extravagant, equipped with an ornamented desk in front of a high window, right next to a balcony with a view over the waterfalls that fall from the palace into a lake. A large table that could very well fit over ten people is decorated with an intricately embroidered tablecloth (though you’re not quite sure why anyone would want that many people in what is basically their bedroom).

A door to your left leads to a bigger refresher than you’ve ever been in your entire life, and to your right- Well, to your right, there’s the bed.

It looks more luxurious and comfortable than anything you’ve ever owned. Never have you slept in a bed that allowed you to spread out your arms all the way, and you’ve most certainly never slept on a mattress that even from afar looks this soft.

It makes you wonder how weirdly your life has changed.

“To your liking?”

Maul’s smooth voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you hum in approval, though your mind is not quite at ease yet.

“So the plan remains unchanged? You take the Jedi on by yourself the next time we encounter them?” You burst out, unable to contain the conflict inside you anymore.

“Nothing has changed. If it weren’t for their luck, I would have killed them already.” He sounds grim.

You grimace. “Waiting for you to come back on Tatooine was a nightmare, Maul. I thought you got hurt or worse and… I’m not sure I can do it again.”

“I won’t get hurt,” he says insistently.

You throw up your hands in exasperation.

“That’s easy for you to say! But when you’re out there, things happen so fast. And…” your voice becomes a little more timid. “isn’t my purpose kind of to … support you?”

“Your purpose,” he draws out the word as if it were an insult, “is to live. And when you’re there with the Jedi, I can’t ensure that.”

“Fine. Whatever,” you huff, still not content.

“You understand this is to your protection, right?” Maul takes a few steps toward you. “If you got hurt, I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Technically,” you give him a sheepish smile, “I’ve gotten hurt on multiple occasions already.”

Shaking his head at you, he retorts: “You know what I mean.”

He is close enough now to extend his hand and brush his knuckles against your cheek. Despite your desperate attempts to stay angry, you can’t help but lean into the touch.

“I knowwhat you’re capable of,” he whispers, crossing what little space there is left between the two of you. “But I worry.”

“You think I don’t?” Your retaliation sounds as weak as your resolution is.

“You shouldn’t.” He leans in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The feeling of his lips on yours makes you forget about the argument, forget about the approaching threat and all other problems. Slinging one arm around his neck, you try to elongate this moment, wishing you could stay like this forever and just ignore all your responsibilities. Your other hand flies up to the back of his head, moving around a bit before settling around a perfectly curved horn, your thumb circling around the base absentmindedly. You aren’t even aware of what you’re doing until the feeling of Maul’s lips changes, the tiniest of moans falling from them. Your eyes open in surprise, just barely catching the way his eyelids flutter in pleasure. Unintentionally, you freeze your movements, causing him to snap out of the haze, his eyes giving away his own surprise at the reaction to the touch.

Before he can say anything, you start rubbing the base again, all the while keeping eye contact, curiously watching for his response to your little experiment.

Canines flash as he bites his lip, seemingly trying to suppress any more unintentional noises. His breaths, short and ragged, fan over your face as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sudden turn from romantic to sexual, making you painfully aware of the aching need you have felt for so many rotations now.

Maul leans in again, lips brushing over your ear, whispering:

“If you keep doing this, I may not be able to control myself much longer.”

You are trembling with anticipation, your own breaths getting shallow. “I’ll take that risk.”

His lips are back on yours in a heartbeat, the kiss filled with desire and need this time. His hands move from your back to the front of your body, applying just enough pressure to make you take a few steps back, until you are met with the wooden frame of the bed. Another gentle push sends you falling onto the mattress that you were fantasizing about just minutes ago.

You barely have time to lament the absence of his touch when he is already on top of you, lips attaching to your exposed neck while he uses one hand to hold himself up, the other digging into your hip. Hot fingers slip under your black undershirt, pushing it up and over your head, forcing him to briefly disconnect from your bare skin, only to return with even more determination as he starts sucking and leaving his mark on you.

This has been a long time coming and neither of you is willing to wait a second longer.

You bring your hand up to tug at the black robe that is still hiding his muscular body from your view, him taking the hint and taking it off at a supernatural speed, finally allowing you to admire the tattooed skin.

Your hand comes in contact with the hot skin on his chest, travelling down to feel each muscle rippling under it, while invisible hands pull on your already loosely fitting pants, getting them off without a problem. Very real and beautifully masculine hands work on ridding you of the thin strip of fabric covering up your breasts.

He takes a moment to let his eyes take in your now very sparsely clothed form, eyes lingering longer in some places than others. You are feeling a deep need you’ve never experienced before, writhing underneath him, desperate for him to just touch you again.

“How curious,” he remarks.

“What?” You ask, your voice breathy.

“A woman of so many skills,” he muses, “yet a novice here.” Your cheeks redden at his notice of your sexual inexperience.

“It’s never been -oh” You are interrupted by an involuntary gasp as his hand cups your breast, fingers circling around the nipple while he tilts his head, waiting for you to finish the sentence. “It’s never been a priority,” you struggle to form the words, but it’s the truth: Relationships were forbidden and you have never had much interest in going home with some Kessel dirtbag.

This is different, and already much better than you could have imagined.

“Do not worry, pretty girl,” his voice is close to your ear as he bows down. “I’ll take good care of you”

Goosebumps rise on your skin despite the heat you’re feeling as his hand trails down your side, his mouth right above your collarbone, nibbling and sucking and definitely leaving another well visible mark on you. The action, combined with the touch on your breast, elicits a delicate moan from you, a sound so intimate and sexual you never thought you could make.

His mouth dips lower, tongue replacing his fingers on your breast, while one hand disappears inside your panties. One finger drags between your folds, spreading the slickness over his digit and making you gasp at the foreign touch, then proceeding by circling his thumb right over your most sensitive spot.

Finally he inserts one finger into you, moving it in and out slowly, testingly. The sensation has you electrified with pleasure, inhaling sharply.

He looks up to you to watch for your reaction when he adds a second finger, curling them inside of you, letting out a satisfied hum when another gasp escapes your lips, while he makes quick work of ripping your panties off of you entirely, before suddenly depriving you of his wondrous fingers inside you, causing you to whimper.

“Why did you sto-“ Your jaw falls slack as unexpectedly, his face is between your thighs, his incredibly hot tongue going straight to licking a generous stripe up from your opening to the sensitive bundle of nerves, where it starts doing a circular motion, waves of pleasure making you fist the sheets beside you, and you can no longer fight the sounds coming from your mouth. You moan loudly, immediately clasping a hand over your lips to silence the sinful sound.

A guttural growl comes from the zabrak who snatches your wrist and presses it back against the mattress while his other hand grips tightly on your thigh. “Let me hear you.”

You become a moaning mess, gasping and twitching while his tongue is working you, applying pressure to your clit and occasionally going lower to plunge into you.

“Oh, Maul, I -ah- I’m gonna” A high whimper interrupts you as the feeling of an oncoming release makes your back arch involuntarily. You feel like you need to move, do something or hold on to something as your orgasm finally takes over your body, starting with a tingle in your toes and ending with hoarse moans in your throat, specks of white appearing in your field of vision.

His tongue doesn’t relent while your body shutters, letting the feeling of ecstasy wash over you while he is still sucking and lapping at your sex.

Your muscles relax and your body collapses back onto the mattress, still in a sort of trance after your climax.

Maul pushes himself up to sit back between your legs, scanning your nude body with hungry eyes, your heaving chest, flushed cheeks, ruffled hair -

His lips collide with yours once more when he moves back up, the taste of you on his tongue and one hand tugging down his black pants.

Despite your quickly recovering arousal, combined with the post orgasm haze, your brain still manages to conjure up one thought:

‘Are our anatomies compatible?’ After all, you’re human and he is a zabrak- Who knows what reproduction looks like with them?

His chuckle shows you that he has been listening to your thoughts again, and you don’t mind. Voice close to a purr, he responds.

“Oh, I’ll show you how compatible they are, my sweet.”

He has completely ridded himself of all clothing now, and he is a sight to behold; black tattoos spanning over toned muscles, not a single body hair and maker-

He is going to split you in half.

Arms braced on either side of your head, he lowers himself onto you until you feel his tip grazing your still sensitive core.

Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck that is still hovering above you, partly to hold on to him, partly to pull him closer.

Slowly, and with such care one could think you are made of glass, he enters you. At first just the head, then a little bit further, a groan falling from his lips. Your head lolls to the side.

“This okay?” His voice sounds uncharacteristically throaty.

“Yeah” you whisper, wanting more despite the sting of being stretched out like this - lust has replaced any and every thought you could have.

You whimper when he pushes himself in deeper, filling you up until the skin of his hip touches yours. Head thrown back, you feel like you’re drowning in the sensation of being filled up to the brim, pleasure overwhelming your senses. He stills, allowing you to adjust, before he slowly starts moving again, one hand sliding down to hold your hips in place, as he fills you up again and again. Your moans become higher pitched when his tip hits such a wondrous spot inside of you that leaves your toes tingling and all bad thoughts and worries disappear from your mind. You catch yourself losing all awareness of the present, your entire focus on the coil inside you that’s getting closer and closer to unwinding.

All of a sudden he pulls out all the way and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach, but keeping his hands in place and holding your hips in the air, knocking the air out of your lungs by thrusting from behind now, going faster, deeper, and now letting himself let out quiet moans of his own. One hand moves up and down your arched back in an almost soothing manner, and you are getting closer and closer to giving in to the crash wave of euphoria lurking in a corner of your mind.

You hardly even register that he is hooking an arm around your torso until your back is pulled flush against his chest and his body heat is enveloping you while your moans become more ragged and desperate as you close in on your second orgasm.

You can’t form the words to tell him, but you know he can sense it too, because his thrusts pick up speed and his own breathing is growing more erratic.

Your high is reached with a broken cry, a shockwave of pleasure shaking your body and making you tighten around Maul, in turn causing him to pull you even closer, if possible, and bite down on your shoulder, sharp incisors drawing a little blood but somehow only adding to your pleasure, while you - worn out and almost overstimulated - go limp, only held up by his steel grip on your torso and thigh, being shaken by every fast-paced thrust.

“Shit, where do- can I-“

“Yeah,” you’re completely out of breath, but your permission is quickly acknowledged.

He twitches inside of you, then hot liquid fills you up, testimony of his own orgasm. He still ruts his hips into yours two, three more times to ride out his high, before pulling out and allowing your tired body to fall back onto the mattress, collapsing right next to you himself.

For a few minutes, only the sound of your mixed breaths fill the room.

Then, tentatively, one strong arm is draped over your still nude form, pulling you against his warm chest. From behind you, you can feel his breath catch in his throat as he freezes, then proceeds to wipe his thumb over the place where he bit down, catching the small droplet of blood.

“I hurt you,” he states, shock and worry resonating in his voice.

“You didn’t. Really, I didn’t mind,” your words are laced with sleepiness, the heat his body is radiating making you feel safe and comfortable.

“I didn’t mean to hurt-“

You shift, turning to face him, or rather his chest from your position. Angling your head upwards, you do your best to look into his eyes.

“You didn’t hurt me. Stop worrying.”

He breathes out slowly, cradling your head with one hand and pulling it closer to his chest. Your legs entangle, and the position feels so natural, so right, that your mind just relaxes completely for the first time in months, in years.

The last thing you know is the sensation of Maul’s hand softly stroking your hair, then sleep takes over your body.

It’s warm.

Maul’s naturally higher body heat feels like a furnace when you wake up in the middle of the night, not used to sleeping for longer periods of time - Kessel used to have shorter days due to the speed of its rotations, so sleeping for one night only really meant sleeping five to six hours.

You are almost still in the same position that you fell asleep in, except for now, a very low rumble right where your head lies on his chest accompanies the silence. It’s a sound akin to … purring?

You hold your breath to take in the sound, and come to the conclusion that your zabrak lover indeed is purring in his sleep. Warmth blossoms in your chest at his response to just being… content. And to think you could have contributed to that state?

Needless to say, the purr feels like the most beautiful, sweet melody that has ever met your ears.

As carefully as you can, you untangle yourself from his embrace and pad over to the refresher, collecting your underwear on the way.

The woman you find staring back at you through the mirror looks… strange.

Your cheeks are an unusual rosy color, your usually tied up hair is ruffled and maker, you are covered in so many more hickeys than you remember him leaving during the act. There’s also a very visible bite mark on your shoulder that brings back the memory of the very moment that Maul reached his release and created the mark you are looking at right now. The tiny hairs on your arm stand up as you recall the feeling of him coming inside you, that moment of the deepest intimacy imaginable.

Both of you had been so wiped out afterwards that you didn’t really bother cleaning up, but now you decide it’s time for you to wash off the sticky substance that’s been leaking out between your legs.

The shower, too, is more spacious than the entire refresher in your old apartment on Kessel was, and you don’t even have to wait for the water to run hot. Besides that, you’re pretty sure it won’t suddenly switch from almost boiling hot to ice cold, which is definitely a plus.

You start washing yourself with one of the many soaps aligned on the shelf, enjoying the way it has an actually nice smell as opposed to your go-to soap that really only smelled… clean?

Perhaps you’ll swipe this one before you leave.

You haven’t even gotten to soap yourself up completely, when you hear the door open and close, followed by footsteps heading towards you, but it’s only when a gentle hand touches your back that you turn your head to greet your sleepy lover.

“Did I wake you up?”

He shakes his head in response, then mumbles: “I don’t usually sleep long.”

Still standing behind you, crimson hands slide down your arms to find your fingers, scooping up the soap and very carefully starting to spread it over your body, starting on the tattoos on your stomach and moving on to your sides, slowly drawing circles upward. His chin rests on your shoulder while his hands find your backside, moving lower again and snarking back around to your front, this time dipping further down and spreading the soap on the inside of your thighs, washing his own release off your skin.

The entire act is more domestic than sexual in its nature, but you can’t cover up the way your breath hitches a little when his hand travels just a bit further up, barely grazing your core.

“Oh?” He sounds much more awake suddenly, as well as more mischievous. “Should I keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe out. Your voice is barely audible over the noise of the water running, but he must have heard you because his arm pulls you closer to his chest and his other hand returns right where you want it, using his palm to apply slight pressure, then beginning to rub small and sensual circles.

Your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you allow yourself to be immersed in the pleasure, eyes falling closed when you sigh in bliss. The hot water makes the sensation spread through your entire being, one gratified moan escaping your lips when he finds the motion that has your knees give in and your toes curl.

“Ah, like that,” You are hardly even holding yourself up anymore, blindly reaching behind you to hold on to his neck for leverage.

Faster than ever, you feel your orgasm boil up in your belly while he just keeps on relentlessly rubbing your clit in the most pleasurable way, as if he was so in tune with your body that he knows what your specific, individual preferences are.

Maybe it’s a force thing.

Whatever it is, it’s working.

You open your eyes just as the high hits you, filling them with raw feelings, hips grinding against his hand while at the same time trying to push yourself closer against him.

His yellow eyes are still half lidded while he watches your entire body quiver in his embrace before your muscles relax again and you slouch against his chest, breathing heavily.

“I’ll leave you to finish in here now,” Carefully, he peels his arms from your form, setting them on your hips to steady you before eventually exiting the shower.

You lean against the wall, closing your eyes with the water running over your face and exhale slowly.

After tonight, there is one thing you are sure of: You trust Maul. You trust him to protect you, you trust him to see you in such a vulnerable state, and you would walk into a battle blindfolded if he told you that was necessary.

The realization is not as much a surprise as it is an understanding. You aren’t in love with him.

You love him.

_____

notes: I have sinned,,,, but I don’t care cause I’m a heathen 😗✌🏻 literally though, writing this was so hard because i kept on zoning out lmao I don’t know if you can tell, but that last part was originally meant to be part of the next chapter, but I decided to add it to this one because I had the feeling it wouldn’t fit the general mood of the next one. hope you enjoyed this <3

@princessayveke @spaghetti-666 @noiralei @secretnerd00 @bagpipes606 @zabrak-show

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction #darth maul x you #sith

71 notes · View notes

onthesandsofdreams · 3 years

Text

A Change In Fate

Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Series Pairing: Bail/Breha Organa Rating: G Summary: Bail knew what he had to do the moment he head Obi-Wan speak of Tatooine. Words: 831 Notes: Canon Divergence Tagging: @flashfictionfridayofficial

Read @ AO3

Bail knew what he had to do the moment he head Obi-Wan speak of Tatooine.

“No.” He spoke firmly. “If this is to be the fate of Padmé’s boy, I will take him to Aldeeran with me. Breha will understand.”

Two sets of eyes bore into him, but he was not about to back down. Yes, things could be terrible if it was discovered whose children they were, but he was not someone who scared easily (even though perhaps he should in this case) and would not abandon a boy to be raised in such a planet while his sister had luxury and comfort at her disposal.

“If certain you are, then the boy you must take.” Master Yoda decided in the end. “In danger you could be.”

“I am aware of that, but I will not abandon Luke. Let them be raised together, and have the family Padmé will not be able to give them. The life she would want for her children.”

“Decided it is, then. With Viceroy Organa the children will go, to Dagobah I will.”

It is then that he stands, whatever decision that Obi-Wan makes, he would not try and sway him. He will aid Obi-Wan if he asks, but he will not make any decisions for him. His feet lead him straight to the children. As he passes a man from his crew, he instructs him to set course for Dagobah. The children are screaming their lungs off and the med droids have not been able to quiet them. A wave of pity washes over him, and makes his way in.

“Give them to me,” He says to the med droids, they comply and soon enough, he finds arms heavy with twin children. Luke’s quieter than his sister, already setting into the crook of his arm. Leia’s tone lowers, but she still screams. “Hello little ones,” he speaks as softly as he can, even with Leia’s screams. “I am to be your new father. Soon, you’ll meet your new mother. But I want you to know, your mother, Padmé, she loved you very much.”

He remains with them for the rest of the journey to Dagobah. Obi-Wan decided to remain in Alderaan, but hidden away under an assumed name, he promises to help him. Once Master Yoda has departed the ship, he goes to his private cabin and calls Breha.

“Beloved,” he says when he hears her voice in the holocomm. “I am on my way home. And I’m not coming alone, there are some people who need a home, and I have offered ours. I cannot explain well over holo, for there is a need of secrecy and silence.”

“I see,” comes her measure words. “Very well, never have you failed me beloved mine, and I will trust you and your actions. Come home safe. I am waiting.”

Even if he knows not to fear something drastic from Breha, he releases the breath he was holding. “Thank you, beloved. I will explain once we are in Aldera. I will come home soon, am already on my way.”

“See you soon.” The call cuts and he goes back to fuzzing over the children. And he remains there until they arrive to Alderaan.

They make a small detour to drop off Obi-Wan in one large town. The more people he’s surrounded with, the safest he’ll be.

Breha waits for him in their private balcony, and as soon as he walks in with two babies, her eyes grow wide and her mouth falls open. He gives her Leia. “Her name is Leia,” he says and then shuffles Luke better in his arms. “And this is her brother, Luke. The children of Padmé Amidala.”

Breha’s head immediately snaps to him, “And were is dear Padmé?”

“Gone,” He says softly. “She did not survive the childbirth.” He sees Breha’s face fall, they both had been fond of Padmé, they had loved her fiercely for her morals and good heart. “Things are bad, beloved.”

“Tell me.”

And so he does, he speaks of the massacre of the Jedi, the rise of Palpatine as Emperor, of Padmé death and the rest. “I could not leave the boy in Tatooine.”

“No,” Breha says as she shakes her head. “You did well. They will have a home here, they will be loved and protected.” She then looks up and smiles, “When you told me that you were on your way home, I would not have expected this, nevertheless, I am glad.” She then arranges Leia, who is surprisingly quiet in her arms, and takes Luke in her other one. “Welcome home, dear children. Welcome home.” Then she looks up and gives him a look full of determination, “And we will do what we can, for the Galaxy and these children. We will fight for them.”

He can’t help the surge of pride, “I know. But for now, let us enjoy this moment. We are home, the four of us.”

“The four of us.”

#Flash Fiction Friday #Bail x Breha #Bail Organa #Breha Organa #yoda #star wars #star wars fic #au: canon divergence #obi wan kenobi

20 notes · View notes

onwesterlywinds · 3 years

Text

Raised Glasses

Content warning for brief allusions to physical and emotional abuse.

Early one evening, well before the sun had set over the city above, Ashe was struck with an urge to go deep into the limestone quarry. She entered from a hidden archway along the city's outermost walls and walked down for nearly a bell until she found the place she sought: past Aster's open sigil-gate, past a thin tunnel where the underground wind blew like whispers, into a winding crevasse along which someone had posted standing torches. That otherwise featureless path led her on and on, until at last the walls widened outward and the ceiling rose up for yalms above her and she stood in a vast subterranean chamber: an abandoned workers’ station.

Dozens of others had already gathered, bringing with their work a flurry of motion and purpose, and others still entered in behind her. Little by little they assembled an entire market - the market, the Undercity's traveling venue for wares of all kinds. Ashe watched the procession of vendors and buyers from a distance as the hall slowly filled with color and noise and activity to rival the city above. As more of the Undercity began to trickle in, merchants and musicians and ruffians and a great many others, she contented herself with wandering about, intent on nothing except sating the fateful urge that had driven all of them there to begin with. Soon each booth and stall sat attended, except for one: a chest-high bar carved directly out of the limestone wall, with a fully stocked shelf behind it but no one present to make or serve drinks.

Ashe made her way around the market three times before taking up a shift.

The only woman seated at the bar raised an eyebrow at her coming but hailed her all the same. "Grand Steward."

"You can call me Ashelia," she said. "What's your name?"

"Jas." She was a warrior of some sort, with a full bandolier of weapons draped across each shoulder. "I'll take whatever's in the barrel at your right."

Ashe lowered a glass to the tap, and it filled with a dark, heady beer. She passed it back to Jas and Jas accepted the drink with a nod, and though the woman offered no coin in exchange, Ashe somehow knew their transaction to be fulfilled.

Other orders came in, one by one, as varied as the people asking for them. Rarely did she recognize the drinks: most visitors called for a specific liquor or else a name scrawled on a bottle's label. Before long, she fell into a rhythm of shaking and tapping and pouring and serving, until the line that had stretched out from the bar slowly settled into a small and comfortable crowd, a lethargic gathering to contrast with the market's stream of people.

"Where'd you learn to tend bar, Grand Steward?" asked a broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard.

"At the Sandsea," she said, then added, "The Riskbreakers' headquarters in Thanalan." Even now, she had little idea if her company's deeds were widely known throughout the Undercity. "Back when the XIVth Legion were setting up their castra all over Eorzea, we advertised ourselves as a tavern. It brought in a stream of adventurers, and it let us keep an ear to the ground for any imperial movements."

"Did it work?" piped up a gruff voice.

"It did." She handed off a whiskey drink to the speaker - a woman with one eye, a woman who had passed her in the Ala Mhigan Quarter only a day or so before. The woman saluted her but held on a moment for her to continue the rest of her story. "Precious few knew of us as anything more than a bar for clan hunters until we stormed the Praetorium and took down van Baelsar." Her mention of the erstwhile viceroy's defeat was met with a brief but hearty chorus of victory cries. "Even then, our reputation was so well-hidden that many Eorzeans didn't make the connection that the Riskbreakers of the Sandsea and the Riskbreakers harrying the Garleans were one and the same until much later."

Someone in a hooded robe shook their head, gesturing languidly with a hand already gripping a flask. "Explains how you practiced. Not where you learned."

Ashe rolled her eyes in what she hoped was a good-natured expression but took the correction in stride, tapping another pint of Jas's choice for a Roegadyn soldier who'd appeared at the opposite end of the bar. "Where else but Limsa Lominsa? I started by watching the barkeeps' hands, to make sure they weren't about to snatch up my purse. By the time I became a proper adventurer, getting dragged around to every backwater alehouse in Vylbrand, it was simply a force of habit."

"Who was Ludo?"

The voice was Stella's, tucked away somewhere in the crowd. Sure enough, Ashe espied a flash of white hair, though the girl crouched as if to avoid further detection.

All other chatter slowly died, and her chest went tight, even as she reached to pour out a glass of absinthe without being prompted. Something had shifted with the speaking of his name, as if he came to life so very briefly - as if she could make out his thin, pale face among the crowd and the whole of the Undercity knew him as well as she did for everything he had done. She did not dare halt the movements of her hands; as the glass stopper clinked against its decanter, the sound resonated amid the lull in conversation that had settled over their shadowy corner of the market.

"Ludo was my former partner," she replied at last. She could not find Stella again, and so she spoke to the person in the hooded cloak. "He and I created the Riskbreakers together."

"Did he die?" asked another of the children. They spoke the word without fear or sadness, as had many of the other young ones she'd known in the desert.

"Yes," she said, her voice a little firmer. "Ludo died. His ashes are buried far away on the other side of these mountains, in a place called Coerthas."

Somehow, the persisting silence that fell in response was worse than the question that had preceded it. And so she took up another pair of wine glasses, poured a hearty serving of red into each, and found her voice again, with a crowd of watching eyes upon her.

"He was... special, and charming, easy to admire and confide in - though he so rarely shared his emotions, or even his goals." It was such a facile thing to say in the Undercity, a place where hardly anyone spoke their intentions aloud. "But once we opened up to each other, I couldn't imagine being without him. Even when he lied, or kept things from me, or gambled with our safety."

Someone standing at the market's grocery lobbed an object that was brightly colored and vaguely grenade-shaped; her onlookers ducked their heads and she caught the lime effortlessly, unthinkingly, in her palm. She took up a knife at the counter, rolled the flat of its blade across the surface, and dug in deep to squeeze as much juice as she could into a shallow glass before carving up its rind.

"Twenty years," she said, watching the last bits of pulp fall over the ice. "The first person in twenty years whom I'd learned to trust, implicitly. But he coveted power over our life together. Over me. I suppose I'd always known it, deep down - I just hadn't wanted to believe it until the truth was staring me in the face."

She topped off the glass of lime juice with a rum that so perfectly matched the gold his eyes had been, and her chest went tight at the memory of those eyes meeting hers for the last time: her jaw trapped under his crushing grip, as he promised her power enough to fell the Empire.

When she slammed the drink down upon the bar, not a soul moved to claim it.

"Promise me," said Ashe, meeting the gaze of the closest of the children - a little girl in a patchwork dress. "Promise me you won't stay with someone if they hurt you, no matter who they are or how much you love them. Find a friend, go somewhere new, and don't let them get near you again."

The girl nodded, and her crowd of compatriots swiftly followed suit. Only Stella's face scrunched up in a childish display of pensiveness.

Jas cleared her throat, and Ashe gladly took the cue to refill her beer. "Anyway, the lot of you should meet my husband." The relatively offhanded quip earned her more laughs from the crowd than she'd expected. "I mean it. He remembers far more of this place than I do, on account of his being six moons older than me, and the stories he tells aren't half as morose as mine. But don't tell him I told you so; it'll go straight to his head."

The conversation shifted like a welcome breeze, and still the glass of rum remained on the limestone bar while its ice slowly thawed. Only when the crowd dispersed hours later along with the rest of the market did the last remaining patron, a stocky woman with her light hair tied up in a high bun, down it in a single gulp before hastening off.

Once relieved of that final burden, it was enough for Ashe to bask in the afterglow of good conversation and a job well done. She doubted she had any obligation to clean up the bar behind her - and many of the bar's guests had simply taken their glasses with them - but she nonetheless lingered for long enough to stack the used dishes into a single empty washbin and wipe a damp rag across the countertop, just as she would have done were she at home in the Sandsea. Stella hopped up onto the crate where Jas had been sitting and watched Ashe's movements on occasion, though mostly she carried out her own private listening. When Ashe ended her shift, Stella followed her closely out of the limestone quarry.

"I'd appreciate it if you were to warn me the next time you do that in public, you know," said Ashe. "It's rather impolite to air someone's innermost thoughts when they least expect it."

Stella gasped. "S-S-Sorry."

When the girl looked up at her, Ashe cast what she hoped was a reassuring, if teasing, smile; she gave no words of affirmation but tousled Stella's white curls, earning her a little giggle in response. Together they traipsed their way back upward and eastward to the areas under the Noble District, until Ashe came to a fork in the path and found that Stella had already vanished from her side.

#Ashelia Riot #Stella #Understory

6 notes · View notes

naruwitch · 3 years

Text

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 35: The Bloodstained Alliance

"About this Special Administrative Zone of Japan, there are some...unpleasant rumors going around about Princess Euphemia."

"Yes, and about her connection with this Voltron. Some are going as far as to say they brainwashed or blackmailed her into doing this, as a way to get Britannia to surrender."

Ever since Princess Euphemia's announcement of the Special Administrative Zone, Britannia had been buzzing with theories and rumors about the Princess's motivations behind this. Particularly in the high ranking military. Some believed it to be a ploy for Britannia to let its guard down so that Voltron's forces could finally finish them off.

"It could also be the perfect opportunity to finally put an end to this fighting," Lord Guilford spoke up, his tone firm. Like Guilford and Darlton, who were heatedly discussing the announcement with Bartley and several other officers, others saw it as an opportunity to finally put an end to the bloodshed and constant war ravaging the nation for years. Hundreds of thousands of people had already died, both Numbers and Britannians. If the stronger force (yes, their pride was forcing them to admit that this Voltron was indeed stronger than them) was offering a truce, wouldn't it be foolish to not at least humor them?

"As Viceroy Schneizel himself stated, Zero's goal is to cripple Britannia, not destroy it. We've seen time and again that Voltron could easily do that at any moment. We've been lucky that their patience hasn't run out," the bespectacled knight continued.

"Not to mention that Voltron's success has inspired rebellions in almost all other areas of the Empire," Darlton continued, supporting his fellow knight, "Our forces are spread thin enough as it is. With Princess Cornelia, Princess Euphemia, and even Lady Enneagram, a Knight of the Round, being captured and held prisoner, many speculate that the Emperor is losing his grip. If there is a chance for this to be resolved as peacefully as possible, I'll take it!"

"Pardon me for sounding overdramatic," General Bartley interjected, "but need I remind you that Princess Cornelia has been Voltron's hostage for months now? Besides the fact that she's in enemy territory, this is bloody aliens we're talking about! For all we know, Zero is simply a puppet for these interlopers and are threatening harm upon Cornelia unless Euphemia cooperates."

"Not to mention most of Voltron's forces remain unknown," another officer pointed out, "Yes, Black Knight activity has dwindled to nearly none, but it's clear if Zero's stance is anything to go by, that the group has thrown its batch in with these aliens. None of our spies that we've attempted to incorporate into the group have been successful."

"Isn't that only more reason to end the fighting this way?" Guilford argued, rising from his chair, "With all of these unknowns, it's simply too dangerous to keep fighting them! If we push them hard enough, they'll cut negotiations, and we'll be back where we started! A nation against a power that's only so many encounters away from wiping us out!"

"Voltron and Zero are cowards!" the man by Bartley spat, "If you have such a weapon at your disposal, then use it! You could easily win against any nation!"

"Why you little-"

"Enough!" Bartley barked, silencing Darlton, "While I commemorate you both for your loyalty to the princesses, I think your personal feelings are clouding your judgment. Especially you, Guilford."

"Excuse me?!" the knight exclaimed.

"While you may have answered to your princess originally, there is still one who has the final say in this matter. You may be Cornelia's knight, but the word of the Emperor far trumps her."

Guilford grit his teeth, restraining himself from strangling Bartley in that very moment.

"Speaking of his majesty, is there still no word from him? He's been silent ever since Euphemia's declaration."

"He hasn't spoken to the Viceroy yet either," Bartley muttered, "but with something like this, I doubt he'll stay silent forever."

"Holy quiznack!" Rai gasped as he pulled up a video feed as well as what appeared to be a registration page on his laptop. Suzaku and Euphemia were looking over his shoulder, "Over 200,000 people have applied to join the Japan Special Zone. From the way it looks, that number is only going to grow!"

"That's fantastic!" Euphemia exclaimed happily, "Everyone is rallying because of what Voltron represents."

"It's not just Voltron, Euphie," Suzaku said with a smile, "they're supporting your actions too...I'm glad."

"Suzaku?" Euphemia asked, noticing the Purple Paladin tear up a little.

"Euphie," Suzaku said, "Ever since I became a paladin and seen what the Galra have done, even I couldn't deny the similarities they shared with Britannia. My idea of reforming Britannia from within seemed to grow more and more unrealistic to the point it became just a pipe's dream. But… you may have just proven me wrong."

"Oh Suzaku," Euphie smiled gratefully before her smile faded slightly, "while I appreciate the praise, I fear that they may only be cooperating because there's an even greater threat. The start of this alliance will be shaky at best."

"We can worry about that when the time comes," Suzaku assured her, "I'm sure Lelouch will come up with a plan to keep this peace secure."

"And I hope I can help bring that peace to the rest of the universe as well," Euphemia said sincerely, "Once Zarkon is defeated, I hope all worlds out there can finally be free as well."

"We'll make sure of it," Suzaku promised, "And I'll be right by your side!"

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that? You're a Voltron Paladin after all," Euphemia teased with a giggle. Suzaku chuckled as well.

"And I'm not even here," Rai says aloud, causing the pair to jump. They'd honestly forgotten he was still in the room. However, they could tell from the tone of his voice that he was grinning.

"What's the status on the Knightmare testing, Coran?" Lelouch asked as the male Altean's face appeared on the monitor of the Castle's bridge.

"They're going quite well!" the adviser said with a smile from the castle pod he and Rakshata were occupying within the Solar System's asteroid belt, "Number Seven, my boy, your idea was just the answer we were looking for!"

Rivalz looked down, blushing at the praise. More often than not, the Blue Paladin felt like he didn't contribute much to the team outside of being comic relief and helping out with chores, so it felt nice to know that he made a lasting contribution with his suggestion.

"Is Sayoko okay? In case… you know… something goes wrong?" Shirley asked anxiously. The moment the crystals had entered the lab, Rakshata had insisted that they work them into the Guren Mrk-II first since that was her 'special child.' Since Sayoko had initially been the pilot for it, she had gone along on the test flight, with Sugiyama keeping an eye on Nunnally until they got back. ("It's time for another therapy session anyway," he had said.)

"Not to worry," Coran reassured them, "Miss Sayoko is in very capable hands. Her suit alone will provide her with plenty of protection in open space should she need to eject manually."

"Good," Lelouch nodded, but everyone could hear the warning in his tone. Sayoko had been the closest thing he and Nunnally had had to a mother since their banishment. If something were to happen to her…

"Keep us updated on your progress," Allura ordered, "And we'll be expecting all three of you back here within three Earth hours."

"Understood, Princess!" Coran saluted, but before he could cut the connection, there was a blinding flash through the pod's windows.

Before anyone on the bridge could ask what was wrong, they heard a loud, girly squeal from behind the Altean.

"Splendid! Absolutely marvelous!" Rakshata sang, looking ready to leap out of her seat with a victory dance.

Coran sighed with a shake of his head before cutting the connection.

"Are they going to be okay?" Milly asked, glancing around a little uneasily.

"Well, I mean, Coran did say he wouldn't let Sayoko get hurt, right?" Kallen asked.

"Oh, Coran I trust all right," Milly said, "It's Rakshata I'm worried about. She does tend to go a little… overboard sometimes."

"You say that as if you've never done that yourself, Milly," C.C. pointed out with a smirk.

"Hey!" the Yellow Paladin pouted.

"Either way, I'm sure Coran will alert us if something is amiss," Allura said surely, "Now that it's confirmed that the Balmera crystals are compatible with your Knightmare machines, we still have much to discuss."

"Right," Lelouch nodded before turning to address the rest of the room. Besides himself, and the other four Paladins, C.C., Tohdoh, Kaguya, and Ohgi were also present.

"So it looks like Euphemia's message was fairly well-received," Ohgi observed, "I mean, they're already getting everything set up back on Earth."

"According to Rai, the announcement has gained a great deal of support," Tohdoh said, "Most of it is coming from the Japanese population, but surprisingly we do have several Honorary Britannians backing the project as well. I've heard several members within our own ranks talking about joining the zone as well."

"This is technically a good thing, though, right?" Rivalz asked, "I mean, with so many people joining the zone, that means more support for Voltron, right?"

"Not necessarily," C.C. said, "Just because they choose to support the SAZ doesn't mean that they will support Voltron."

"C.C.'s correct," Lelouch nodded, "There will be those, not just from Britannia, that will never see eye-to-eye with something like this. Unfortunately, there isn't much that can be done about it, even with two royal princesses-"

"Technically, three royal princesses, Lelouch," Shirley pointed.

Lelouch abruptly turned to the Orange Paladin, raising an eyebrow, "I'm sorry?"

"What about Cornelia?" Shirley said, "Nunnally did say that she was willing to help us too, right?"

"Yeah, and we have Nonette too," Milly added, "who, according to Rai, isn't even loyal to Britannia. Plus, Cornelia's likely the most influential member of the royal family right now, since she is, or used to be, the viceroy. I'm sure if we can both of them on board, that could garner even more support, especially from Britannia, which is what we need right now."

Lelouch was silent, face contorted in a frown. While it was true that Nunnally had told him about her conversation with their sister, a part of Lelouch still hesitated to trust Cornelia.

However…

If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that no matter what, Cornelia would never betray Euphemia. And Euphie was entirely on board with this plan. Even if Cornelia didn't support some of the things Euphemia did, she never actively tried to work against her either. So long as Euphie was on their side, Cornelia would follow.

And if what Rai said about Nonette was true too...

"...We'll talk to them."

"Sire, pardon my rudeness, but are you serious about this?" Bartley asked Schneizel in the viceroy's office back on Earth.

"Quite so, Bartley," Schneizel answered calmly, "You know I wish for the fighting to stop as much as anyone else. If Voltron is willing to offer an olive branch through Euphie's project, I am willing to humor them and receive it."

"This could easily be a trap too, Your Highness," Bartley protested, "They could be waiting for us to let our guard down before striking us."

"Yes, yes, Bartley," Schneizel nodded knowingly, "I have considered that possibility. However, I highly doubt that that would be the case."

"How so?" Bartley asked skeptically.

Schneizel smiled, hands clasped behind his back as he stood, "As we've discussed previously, it's clear that Zero, through Voltron, possesses more than enough resources to raze Britannia to the ground at a snap of his fingers. The fact that he has yet to launch such an attack is our first clue. No, he doesn't want to see Britannia destroyed. At least, not anymore. Instead, he wants something from Britannia."

Bartley sputtered, "What?! What could Zero possibly want from Britannia besides its destruction?!"

Schneizel sighed, "Unfortunately, I have no definitive answer for that. I have theories at best, but there is too little proof to draw any conclusions. This is partially the reason I am supporting this ceasefire. Once we have the facts of the situation at large, and all the pieces are presented on the board, I'm certain we can… determine our next move from there."

Bartley didn't answer, but he made no further comment as he saw Schneizel's line of thinking. He was just like most other Britannian officials and officers. They wanted answers, and each encounter with the gargantuan robot only brought more questions. Even the partial victory on the island backfired in ways they couldn't have imagined.

"By the way," the prince interrupted his thoughts, "There is still no word from the Emperor regarding this?"

"Um, no sir," Bartley shook his head. At least this he could answer, "The Emperor has been silent ever since Princess Euphemia's broadcast, even back in Pendragon."

"I see…" now it was Schneizel who was frowning. The fact that their father hadn't commented about either the broadcast or the SAZ was concerning. Perhaps Charles was thinking along the same lines? Wishing to hear Voltron's explanation before making a move? If there was one thing he and his father shared, it was their dislike of being uninformed. This could be the one chance they had to gain the information they needed.

Schneizel blinked as the image of that strange woman flashed through his mind for a moment. Despite his brother wearing his mask, it was clear that Lelouch didn't merely dislike that woman but was scared of her. Why else would have lashed out (with a lightning blast?!) the way he had and brought Euphemia with him?

In any case, Schneizel hoped that with this ceasefire order, he could finally, finally, get answers.

"And that's the plan we've come up with, should you both agree to assist us," Lelouch said, standing authoritatively in front of Cornelia and Nonette's cell. Behind him, Nunnally was seated in the hover chair with Arthur in her lap, along with Kallen, Allura, and Tohdoh. The ex-prince had just finished explaining the ceasefire that Euphemia ordered, along with the plans for the Special Administrative Zone of Japan back on Earth, and what they hoped to accomplish with this.

This was only the second time Lelouch had spoken to Cornelia since he and the other Paladins captured her. Despite what everyone was telling him when they talked with the older princess, Lelouch simply couldn't bring himself to face her yet. Even though, via his Geass, he learned that Cornelia had nothing to do with Marianne's assassination and had genuinely tried to find him and Nunnally during the war, that didn't fix the trust that had been shattered during that time nor erase the pain of the royal family's betrayal.

"I understand the need for cooperation, Lelouch," Cornelia finally spoke after a few moments of silence, "but surely you see how risky this plan is."

"No quiznack, what gave you that clue?" Kallen commented sarcastically.

"We know that," Lelouch admitted, "and even without your assistance, we still plan to carry it out, but if you two are willing to cooperate, not only can we likely rally more Britannians to our side, but also build some level of trust between the factions. We're going to need that in spades once the Galra arrive since everyone will be focused on one enemy."

"You do realize that will likely mean cooperating with the Emperor as well, correct?" Cornelia reminded her brother.

Lelouch clenched his fists, "If it means Earth's survival, I will force myself to work with the Emperor. Grudges and vengeance become petty in situations like this."

"And afterward?" Nonette asked, "You know that once the Galra are pushed back that His Majesty isn't likely to change. I learned that the hard way after all…"

Along with the plans for the SAZ, Nonette and Cornelia had also learned what happened to Rai, his sister, and his mother. How they were abducted and taken prisoner by Galran scouts, how Rai had been forced into the gladiator pits, and how he'd been forced to become a living test subject for Zarkon's second in command, who they had learned was named Haggar.

Nonette vowed that she ever saw Haggar face-to-face, she would kill that witch herself.

"If all goes according to plan, should your Emperor attempt such an act, we'll have enough support from your planet's other countries and factions to stop him," Allura said, "Hence why we must solidify a united front against the Galra, and put aside all prejudices before that occurs. This will mean nothing if your world reverts back to what it was before we got here."

"And as Lelouch stated before, the more members of the Royal Family we have on our side, the higher chances we have of gaining the support that the Emperor will lose," Tohdoh added.

Cornelia shared a look with Nonette, who was staring back at her expectantly. Nonette had made it clear that no matter what happened, her place she by Zephyr's side (she was still in shock about the fact that he was a member of the Royal Family and half Japanese). From the very second that Lelouch revealed himself to be Zero, and from what Nunnally told her shortly after, the princess had been thinking and pondering on how she could regain her brother's trust. Nunnally had made it clear that she didn't blame her for what happened during the war, which was a relief. Lelouch was a different story. Even as a young boy, Lelouch had shown that he wasn't one to forgive easily.

The fact that he was extending the closest thing to an olive branch was a miracle on its own.

"I failed you and Nunnally once, Lelouch…"

"I know," Lelouch answered bluntly. Nunnally glanced between her brother and sister anxiously.

"...But it won't happen again."

"Oh, here you are."

Chigusa jumped and nearly dropped the sprinkler she'd been using to water the plants in one of the greenhouses.

"Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!" Ohgi gasped, hands up.

"No, it's all right!" Chigusa gasped out a laugh before turning the sprinkler off, "I wasn't paying attention, is all."

Ohgi a little and looked around at the vegetables growing in the vertical trellises. He had to admit, Milly's idea to apply hydroponics to the ship's greenhouse was not only inventive but saved them resources too. All they needed was water and the nutrients the plants would need from the soil. It not only saved space but made growing food cleaner as well due to the lack of soil.

Tending the greenhouse seemed to quickly be becoming Chigusa's favorite job, and Ohgi was happy to see that she was adapting well.

However, despite this, there was still no sign of her memories returning. Ohgi knew that something like amnesia wasn't something that could be forced. They just needed to be patient. Of course, there was always the possibility that her memories didn't return. He honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Plus, there was the stress about the SAZ. So far, nothing seemed to be going wrong, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Sure, they had Euphemia, Nunnally, Lelouch supporting this, but they were only three members (four if Cornelia of all people agreed to support it as well) of the Royal Family vs. the hundreds of other members, plus the Emperor.

"Is everything okay?" Chigusa asked, noticing his frown.

"Hmm? Oh, no, it's nothing important," Ohgi attempted to wave it off, but Chigusa was just as smart as her other identity.

"Are you worried about the zone?" Chigusa asked. It was hard to be in the castle right now and not know about it. It seemed to be the only thing the Black Knights were talking about.

Ohgi paused then sighed, "I-I don't know… I-I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. I know we've taken all the possible precautions, but…"

Chigusa frowned in concern, "Have you talked to Zero about it?"

Ohgi shook his head, "I don't have to. I can tell he feels the same way. I know this sounds bad, but when you think about it, the only reason we're doing this is because we don't have any other choice. Zero has always thought all of his plans through. So the fact that he's practically just winging this…"

Chigusa nodded, "Yes, I suppose that would make anyone nervous. But I'm sure once Earth understands what they're up against, they'll be more likely to cooperate. That's the whole point of this zone, right?"

"That's the idea," Ohgi confirmed, "but… there are people that just won't do that! People like-"

Ohgi stopped himself before he could finish.

"You mean people me?" Chigusa asked, looking down.

"Well, yes, but I mean like how you were like before. Not now!" Ohgi gasped.

"It's all right," Chigusa reassured him, "I understand. But… despite all of that, I can't help but be grateful to you."

"Grateful?" Ohgi asked, looking up in surprise.

Chigusa nodded, "I know I wasn't the best person before I came here. I was an enemy. But you still decided to take me in, to make me a part of all of this. It's like I've been given a second chance to be better. And I'll always be grateful for that."

Ohgi's look of surprise soon morphed into a smile. Her response surprised him, but upon hearing it, he felt a weight of his own lift off his shoulders.

"I'm glad to hear that. And if it means anything to you, I'll be more than happy to be there for you, memories or not."

Chigusa smiled back, "Thank you, Kaname."

It took another three days, but it was at last time. The area around the Special Administrative Zone was packed almost shoulder-to-shoulder with both Japanese and Britannians alike. Military personnel, including Guilford, Darlton, and his sons, on guard also stood on guard, Sutherlands, Gloucesters, and several specialized Knightmare units were present as well. High above in the sky, the Le Fey also floated above the zone.

For those who weren't there personally, everyone was tuned into radio, television, or any broadcast available in Japan, watching and listening. The E.U. and Chinese Federation were also watching, waiting with bated breath for the ceremony to start.

"We're bringing you live coverage from the stadium where the inaugural ceremony will be held for the Special Administrative Zone of Japan. The place is already packed full of Elevens… sorry, I mean Japanese. And those unable to get in are gathered outside the stadium."

"The question still remains, though. Will Zero and his forces truly make an appearance? While Princess Euphemia herself was the one to make this announcement, rumor has it that the princess hasn't been publicly seen for several days. Many are concerned that this ceasefire order is another ploy of the Black Knights… wait, what?"

There was a beat of silence as everyone listening to the broadcast held their breath.

"Oh! Okay-well, our satellites just picked activity in the atmosphere and-!"

A thunderous roar suddenly echoed around the stadium as large shadows fell upon the crowd. All chatter stopped as everyone looked to the sky with bated breath.

With a low sweep, the Black Lion whooshed around the stadium, wind picking flying in its wake. The silence was meet with screaming cheers as the six other lions followed, though none flew as low as the Black Lion. After several minutes of circling the sky, almost like hawks circling prey, the Black and Purple Lions finally descended, with the other five staying aloft in the air, directly above the arena, and to the south, east, north, and west.

The Sutherlands tensed as the Black and Purple Lions landed gracefully on the stage, tails lashing and eyes looming over the military units surrounding them, growling in clear warning. Then the Black Lion seemed to chuff before lowering its haunches and head toward the ground, the Purple Lion following suit.

The roars of the crowd only amplified as the 'Savior of Japan' himself, Zero, glided out of the Black Lion's mouth, helmet, cape, and all. From the other Lion, the pilot clad in his purple and white armor, helmet on and face shield darkened, also exited, only to pause and hold his hand out behind him.

To everyone's shock, Princess Euphemia was gently escorted out of the Purple Lion's mouth, and the Knight of Nine, Nonette Enneagram, exited right behind her.

What truly shocked the crowd, though, was the additional passenger that exited with Zero. It was none other than Cornelia li Britannia herself.

"Princess Cornelia!" Guilford gasped from within his Gloucester, nearly leaping from it to rush to her side. It was only Darlton's cautious but also shocked expression that stopped him.

The same shock was reflected on the Japanese citizens, as their cheers morphed into waves of confusion rippled through around.

A single wave of Zero's arm in front of the former viceroy silenced them.

"Enough!" the rebel's voice exclaimed in admonishment, "This day is not a day for violence or anything of the like. This is a day of cooperation and unity between Britannia and Japan that has been delayed for far too long!"

The crowd's cheers returned once again, even the voices of a few Britannians joining them this time.

Back on the Castle of Lions, now just above cloud cover above the planet. The Black Knights were all waiting anxiously in their newly operational Knightmare Frames, appropriately named Seishins. They were ready to soar out and attack at a moment's notice. From the bridge itself, Allura, Coran, and C.C. observed the ceremony from the screens.

"Are you sure letting Cornelia attend this ceremony personally was a wise move?" Allura inquired from her position at the teludav, frowning.

C.C. snorted, "Well, it's not like we didn't all agree to let her out in the first place. I do recall you were there for that."

Allura grimaced, but before she could make a snarky comment back, Coran spoke up.

"Lelouch and Nunnally are willing to trust her, Allura. And you know for a fact that Lelouch wouldn't have agreed to it if he didn't think it would work."

Allura sighed, "I understand. But…" the princess bit her lip, "...I can not help but feel like something is wrong."

Almost impulsively, Allura pulled up the commlinks connected to the Knightmare bay.

"Ohgi, Tohdoh, what's the status of our troops?"

"On standby, Princess," Ohgi answered.

"We're prepared to launch at any time," Tohdoh also confirmed.

Allura blew out a breath. At least they were ready. She just hoped the feeling of foreboding she felt was paranoia and worry for the Paladins down below.

"People of Japan! People of the world! Welcome to the Special Administrative Zone!" Euphemia greeted shortly after Zero's reprimand.

The crowd cheered once again, and Euphemia waited patiently for the noise to die down before continuing.

"Many obstacles have been overcome to bring this project to fruition, and I'd like to dedicate this zone not only to the Japanese people but also to the Paladins of Voltron, who, along with the Black Knights, have helped pave the way for this day to come to pass."

"However…" Euphemia's tone became solemn, which silenced the beginning of any further cheers, being replaced with murmurs of confusion, "...there is another reason I announced the opening of this Special Zone. It was to provide an opportunity to address the entire planet as a whole and deliver a message. A warning, to be exact. A warning that the entire world must heed!"

The crowd was now getting anxious, many gasping and some even inching towards the exits, as if expecting the Britannian soldiers to open fire on them at any moment. However, none of the Knightmares moved as the soldiers looked just as confused as the Japanese.

Euphemia handed the microphone to Zero, who addressed the masses once again.

"What Princess Euphemia speaks is true!" the rebel leader said, "As you all are well aware, Voltron's purpose is to stand against oppression and dominance, not just against Britannia, but any nation that uses their power unjustly. But there is another threat that is looming. A threat that not only you must be aware of, but every nation of this planet!"

The jumbotron at the top of the stage started to flicker.

"The footage you are about to see is real. They are no figment of one's imagination!"

From inside of Zerith, Rai was rapidly typing on a laptop he brought with him. He wasn't only uploading this to the jumbotron, though, but to every screen on planet Earth.

"Here we go," the Green Paladin muttered before pressing the 'enter' button.

On the jumbotron, recorded footage of hundreds of Galra ships invading on the Balmera they had invaded, and footage of Sendak's ship when they stayed on Arus when this whole crazy adventure first happened. There were several other clips that Rai managed to find through the few times he managed to hack into the Galra in some form or another.

"This is the Galra Empire," Zero said, pointing at the jumbotron's screen, "An alien regime hellbent on the domination of the known universe, with Darwinistic beliefs not too different from Britannia. Their technology is far more advanced than anything Earth has ever developed, and with the way the planet stands now, in such a divided state, our world will not stand a chance against such a brutal force."

This time, it wasn't just the Japanese people who were gasping and even screaming in shock. Several members of the Britannian military had similar expressions. Some even dropped their guns in shock.

Even Darlton and Guilford were speechless and pale, the latter looking towards Cornelia, who nodded.

"My god…" Darlton muttered, "That's what they've been up against?" If Voltron, a force that Britannia was lucky to come out of in one piece of, was struggling against this regime, then what chance did Britannia have?

"But that is why Voltron is here," Euphemia spoke again, "to protect all the people of Earth, regardless of their differences. The Paladins of Voltron are no different from any of us."

The screen shifted again, and low and behold, Milly's bright blonde hair filled the screen.

"This thing on…? Yep, the red light means 'on.' Okay, hello everybody or any alien lifeform that finds this video in the future!" the Yellow Paladin grinned, waving at the camera, "This is Milly Ashford, Paladin of the Yellow Lion of Voltron, or Maeraka as I like to call her!"

From the other side of the settlement, Ruben Ashford felt his pen slip from his fingers as his granddaughter's face lit up the screen.

"Anyway, as you can see," Milly grabbed the camera (or whatever the device was). She spun around with it, showing the inside of one of the Castleship's lounges, "I am not at Ashford academy, and it certainly doesn't look like I'm even on Earth. That's because I'm not. Long story short, my friends and I got kidnapped by a magic blue lion and shipped off into this awesome spaceship! With real aliens too! Crazy, right?! Anyway, just letting everyone know that I'm fine and we're hoping to be back home soon once we take care of the Galra Empire. Wish us luck!"

The video fizzled for a few moments before clearing up again. This time it was Rivalz on the screen.

"Hi! It's Rivalz Cardemonde, Paladin of Polaris, the Blue Lion. Hi, Mom, hi, Amelia. Isla. Ava. I'm here in outer space somewhere. I, um, uh, don't really know what to say. Uh, I miss you guys. I miss you guys a lot. I-I know you'll have a lot of questions, but… I'm doing what I think is right, and… yeah, that's about it. Anyway, I hope you're staying safe, and I'll hopefully be back soon. I love you guys."

"...MOM!" a shrill voice rang through the Cardemonde manor.

The next face to appear on the screen was Shirley. The Orange Paladin bit her lip and twirled a piece of her hair.

"Um, hi. I'm Shirley Fenette, the Paladin of the Orange Lion, Zinnia. Mom, Dad, if you ever see this…' the Orange Paladin paused, eyes getting misty, "Just know I love you and I'm thinking about you and I hope I can see you again soon… whenever that is anyway."

Aurora Fenette gasped, her hand flying to her mouth at the sight of her daughter on the screen. Joseph Fenette could only stare in shock before his wife lunged at him, sobbing into his neck.

"...I'm Kallen. Kallen Kozuki," the Red Paladin said bluntly when her video finally popped up, "Paladin of Aka, the Red Lion...what? You know I'm bad at this sort of stuff!" she snapped at someone behind the camera before sighing. "Okay, as everyone can guess from the last name, I'm half-Japanese, surprise, surprise. Anyway… mom, I'm so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I think of you and Naoto every day. I'm here to finish the fight that he helped to start."

As the last recording switched off (Rai didn't make one as he didn't have family on Earth and the Royal Family didn't know about him), the Purple Paladin stepped forward. Most of the crowd was already shocked to see the faces of the Ashford students that went missing months prior, but it was nothing compared to their reaction as Suzaku slowly removed his helmet.

More gasps filled the stadium, and there were even shouts of protest from several people both in the audience and but more so among the Britannian troops. And while they weren't among those protesting, Guilford and Dalton both shared faces of shock as well.

"All of you be silent!" Cornelia suddenly snapped towards the Britannian soldiers. This shut them up immediately. Even the Japanese ceased speaking, though it was clear the order wasn't directed at them. "I will not condone any form of violence here! You just witnessed proof of a formidable threat, and you're concerned about a soldier's blood?"

This admonishment seemed to pacify the Britannians, but the Japanese were staring at the princess in amazement. This woman, who was known as the Goddess of Victory and had shown little mercy or tolerance for 'Elevens' in the past, was now defending them. They weren't sure if this behavior was due to Princess Euphemia's presence or not, but Suzaku took this opportunity to finally speak.

"Yes, I know, I am Suzaku Kurugui, and up until recently, I was also a soldier in their military. An Honorary Britannian like many others here. When I became a soldier, I believed that if I worked hard enough, if I rose high enough in the ranks, I could help change the system, change Britannia from the inside. I hoped to try and use Voltron for the same purpose. But… I can't do it. Not alone, anyway."

Next to him, he felt Euphemia grasp his hand and squeeze it. She then addressed the crowd once again.

"And right now, we need that change more than ever. I know that our empire has committed countless crimes and atrocities, not just to Japan. And I swear to you, we will take full responsibility and do everything we can to make amends. But we can no longer be consumed by our differences."

Zero stepped forward next to the princess, "Now is the time for us to come together. Race, gender, religion, ideology, none of that matters anymore. We must be united under one cause! I implore the people of Earth: Stand alongside Voltron! The Black Knights already stand with us, as do many members of the Royal Family!"

From behind Zero, Zenobia lowered her head again, and from her mouth, another person glided out.

Nunnally, her eyes wide open, rolled up to Zero on her hoverchair and, to the amazement of everyone, stood up, though still wobbling as Zero steadied his sister.

Seeing the lost princess was shocking enough, but seeing the disabled girl now standing on her own two legs nearly sent everyone into a frenzy again.

"Zero and the Paladins helped to restore what was lost to me, and they can do that for everyone on Earth!" she exclaimed.

Next to her, Cornelia walked beside her, grasping her other hand, with Nonette coming up next to the former viceroy. To Zero's left, Euphemia held his open hand, with Suzaku still standing next to her.

"From this day forward... Voltron and Earth... STAND TOGETHER!" Zero proclaimed, raising his hands high, those with him doing the same. This earned cheers from the gathered Japanese, who became encouraged by his words and began to chant.

"VOLTRON!"

From above the arena, each of the Paladins was grinning.

"Paladins!" Coran's voice exclaimed over the commlinks.

"What's up, Coran?" Rivalz asked.

"Responses are coming in from all over the planet. They've heard us and are offering support!"

"YES!" Milly cheered, fist-pumping in her seat.

"We did it…!" Shirley exclaimed, tears gathering in her eyes.

Then, the screen on the jumbotron abruptly flickered, drawing the attention of everyone.

"Huh?" Rai gasped from his computer as the system he was working through was swiftly hacked into from another source.

"Rai, what's going on with the signal?" Zero demanded from below.

"I don't know!" the Green Paladin gasped, "Someone's hacking in! They're completely taking me over!"

"What? But who could possibly-" Allura gasped from the castle.

"I don't know!" Rai exclaimed in frustration. Looking closer at the code streaming onto his laptop, he suddenly gasped, "Wherever this signal is coming from, it's not coming from Earth!"

"...But, that could only mean-" Zero's thoughts were interrupted when the screen's image finally cleared. What were once cheers of triumph were transforming into gasps of horror once more as Charles zi Britannia's face glowered on the screen.

"A stirring performance, Zero," the Emperor boomed on the jumbotron.

"Father?!" Euphemia gasped, eyes wide with fear, while Suzaku and Nonette glared angrily at the monarch on screen. Instinctively, Zero pulled Nunnally towards him while Cornelia placed herself in front of the vi Britannia siblings, eyes narrowed at the man whose blood they shared.

"It amuses me how you and my foolish daughter continue to spew these ideals, such as unity. You must think that such counsel is wise. But this is nothing but a folly! Such terms as responsibility and peace are nothing but an illusion. Lies created by a childish and naive fantasy!"

"How dare you!" Nonette gasped, but the Emperor drowned out her voice.

"You wish to truly speak of responsibility? Our beloved Britannia has nothing to be responsible for! Our methods are our divine right! Any talk of change is preposterous!"

Suzaku didn't say anything, but he could tell that jab was likely exclusively targeted at him.

"I am pleased that I can finally put faces and names on you so-called 'Paladins,'" the Emperor then sneered, "Now I know who to mark as true traitors of the empire, along with you and everyone else on that stage with you!"

This declaration was met with shouts of protest and shock. Darlton and Guilford looked the most shell-shocked.

"He can't be serious!" Guilford gasped.

"The Emperor's gone mad!" Darlton added.

"Why must Britannia ally itself with that wretched abomination, Voltron, when we have gained an even greater ally?"

Allura, Coran, and C.C. were also watching and listening to the Emperor's speech from the inside of the castle. The Altean Princess was practically seething. Was this man truly that stubborn and shameless? Why did he refuse to see reason when they were extending a hand for an alliance.

The Emperor's last words, though, did catch them off guard, especially C.C. The immortal was shocked and confused as well at Charles's behavior.

'What the hell are you thinking, Charles?!' she thought, 'Making this proclamation will only turn the whole world against you and Britannia! Why would you make such a move if you still wish for Ragnarok to succeed?'

Red warning lights began to blare all over the bridge and throughout the castle. The Black Knights, still on standby in the launch bay, looked around in bewilderment.

"Princess, what's going on?!" Tohdoh demanded through his radio.

"We're not sure-"

"Allura!" Coran gasped, face paling as he turned to the main scanners, "The castle's picking up multiple vessels entering the atmosphere!"

"Pull it on screen!" the princess commanded.

As the castle pulled up its outer surveillance cameras, Allura's blood ran cold. C.C. and Coran also watched in equal horror.

One after another, Galra warships and fleets closed in, surrounding planet Earth.

"No…"

"No…!" Zero gasped as he looked to the sky and saw the same warships descending from space.

Everyone, Paladin, Japanese, Britannian, every citizen of Earth was frozen in terror as the very threat they had been warned of moments of ago came into visibility.

"From this point onward, Britannia stands not as an ally to Voltron, but as their enemy! And our new Galran allies have graciously offered their support in our crusade!"

"WHAT?!" Suzaku shouted, eyes wide and staring at the Emperor, who he could only think was outright insane!

From within the Viceroy's Palace, Schneizel el Britannia felt himself shaking as he witnessed the events unfold in front of him.

"Father, what madness is this?!"

"He…" Lelouch could barely get the words out of his mouth, "He's actually… joined them…?!"

"If you wish for Earth to stand with you, Zero, then you must fight us for it!" Charles challenged, a broad grin on his face, "Will you and your precious friends save this planet or destroy it?! Time to learn the gambles of war! ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!"

Having heard the final declaration from the nation's monarch, Commander Corza looked over her own forces. Forces that the Emperor had personally requested to oversee this… union.

She sneered at the choice of word, but she was an old Galra, and she knew her emperor well. The only reason he agreed to such an act was because it was more beneficial to proceed down this route. Had Haggar not established contact between this planet's hierarchy and Zarkon, they could have easily rained death and fire upon these lesser lifeforms and took the planet for themselves.

'Oh well,' she shrugged aloofly. The long game was sometimes necessary.

"Commander Corza," a robotic voice rang over the speakers, "all vessels are locked on."

The commander smiled. Let the fun begin.

"Open fire!"

Like wasps swarming from their nests, hundreds of Galra cruisers and fighters shrieked across the sky towards the SAZ. One that appeared to be faster than the rest swooped down and blasted rapidly into the center of the stadium.

Screams of terror and pain erupted as the ground exploded from the blasts.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. For the Paladins, the Japanese citizens, and several Britannians.

Then all hell broke loose as the Japanese panicked and began to run for the stadium's exits, only for many more to be blown away by more blasts from above.

This seemed to snap Zero from his horrified trance, and he leaped into action.

"Paladins!" he all but screamed into the comm in his helmet, "Defend the zone! Take down any Galran ship that you see! NOW!"

He barely heard the acknowledgment from his teammates as the Orange, Blue, Yellow, Green, and Red all roared in unison and rocketed up into the sky. It didn't take long for blue lasers and balls of fire to mix in with the purple, black, and red of the Galran attacks and debris.

"Lelouch!" Nunnally gasps, eyes large and panicked, clinging to her brother like a lifeline.

"We've got to ge-"

Before Lelouch could finish his sentence, he froze, along with Nunnally, Suzaku, Cornelia, Nonette, and Euphemia. It was like someone had hit the pause button on a movie screen.

Off to the side of the stage, a short, hooded figure crouched down, raising a pistol towards the group.

"Targets sighted," he said almost monotonously, his light violet eyes barely showing emotion at all.

His finger pulled down on the trigger.

BANG!

Blood spurted from Princess Euphemia's chest, but she made no move fall from the bullet's impact.

"First target eliminated…" the assassin confirmed before pointed his gun at his second victim, "and second tar-"

Yoru's eyes suddenly sparked to life, and the Purple Lion's head whipped towards the boy's direct, a malicious growl verberating from his maw. With a livid sounding roar, the lion lifted its paw and slammed down mere inches away from the boy's body.

With a grunt, the assassin landed with a gasp on his back, hood flying off his head, revealing light brunette locks and honey peach skin, the wind rushing from his lungs from the impact. He had managed to move out of the way in time before the paw crushed him, but his shock at the lion's sudden movement nearly cost him his life!

Despite this setback, though, he still had a mission, and he attempted to re-aim his gun at Nunnally's vulnerable head.

Then with a mighty leap that shook the ground, the Black Lion leaped into the air and landed directly in front of the adolescent gunman.

The young couldn't stop the scream of fright as Zenobia roared in his face, nearly shattering his eardrums. The lion then raised her tail, the end lighting up with intense blue light.

Any further coherent thoughts vanished as all, but primal instinct replaced the boy's mind as he immediately turned and ran for his life, his Geass flashing reactively as he felt himself be thrown backward from the force of Zenobia's tail laser obliterating the ground where he had been not two seconds previously.

Scrambling to his feet, the Geass assassin disappeared into the crowd of panicking Japanese citizens.

With a stumble, Lelouch regained his senses, Zenobia's roar still ringing in his ears, both mentally and literally.

"Wha-"

"EUPHIE!" The raw, anguished cry of his older sister caused Lelouch to whip around and gasp terror as he saw the princess lying in a pool of blood beneath her.

"NO!" Suzaku screamed, dropping to his knees and skidding to her side.

From the amount of blood already there, Lelouch could tell that Euphemia didn't have long.

Unless…

"Suzaku, get her back to the castle now!" Lelouch ordered desperately.

The Purple Paladins seemed to have the same idea, as he was already scooping Euphemia into his arms and sprinting towards Yoru's open mouth. The lion swallowed her Paladin and his injured cargo up before he was even inside her mouth and shot up into the sky.

"Nelly!" Nonette cried out before tackling the former viceroy to the ground as a round of bullets suddenly rained down on the stage. Lelouch did the same for Nunnally, shielding his sister, his armored back taking the brunt of several bullets.

But just as quickly, the quartet heard the sound of bullets again, but this time being fired away from them.

Looking up, Cornelia gasped to see several Gloucesters, her unit's Gloucesters, firing rapidly back at both Sutherlands and Galra fighters that flew close enough to the ground.

"Princess Cornelia! You must flee now!" Guilford's voice shouted from the cockpit of his Knightmare.

The princess in question stared in shock for a moment before speaking. "Why are you helping me?! You heard your emperor! I'm a traitor!"

"No!" the knight argued back, fervently, "The Emperor's the traitor here! Not you!"

"Our loyalty is to you, and you alone, Princess! Whoever that madman was, he was not the Emperor that leads our people!" Darlton added from his own Knightmare. Close by, the group noticed the specialized Knightmares of the Glaston Knights close by, also firing towards the sky and surrounding their father and the stage.

"...I thank you," Cornelia said softly, "All of you!"

"Lelouch!" Nonette exclaimed, "Get Nunnally out of here! We'll rally the troops down here and form a front here on the ground!"

The sky suddenly flashed with two large laser blasts, melting away several Galran fighters at once. As the smoke cleared, the Le Fey emerged, cannons and other artillery at the ready.

"Hm, an alien invasion," Lloyd Asplund said casually as if he was strolling through a peaceful park, "I'd say I'm surprised, but I'd be lying."

"What Lloyd means to say," Cecile's more frantic voice interrupted from the vessel's speakers, "is that we're in this fight too! We'll provide air support where we can!"

"But… you'll be slaughtered!" Lelouch exclaimed.

The Black Paladin then gasped as Cornelia approached and grasped his shoulders. At that moment, he didn't see the Goddess of Victory, the Witch of Britannia, not even the Second Princess of Britannia. He just saw Cornelia. His sister. His beloved older sibling, he once thought was gone forever.

"I'll be fine, Lelouch. Go, help your friends. Get Nunnally away from here," she said calmly but firmly, meeting his eye through his mask.

Lelouch finally nodded after a few seconds.

"Be careful," was all he said before turning to Nunnally.

"Let's go Nunnally!" he said urgently, gently grasping her forearm and running towards Zen.

"R-Right!" his younger sister gasped, nearly tripping over her feet. With a squeak, she soon found herself scooped into her brother's arms, one of his hands shielding her head as he darted into the Black Lion's mouth. After gently placing her back in the hover chair, now connected to the floor of the cockpit, Lelouch flung himself into his seat.

"Zen, let's go!" he shouted, and with a furious roar, the Black Lion pounced and shot into the sky.

Kallen screamed out a battle cry as Aka flung her jaw blade out. It ripped through several fighters, which exploded seconds later.

Corkscrewing around each other, Polaris with her sonic cannon active, and Maeraka's light bombs flashing, several Galrans suddenly either lost control of their vessels or were blinded enough that they ended up running head-on into other ships.

"This can't be happening… There's just no way!" Shirley muttered as she rammed into a cluster of v-formation ships.

"Well, I mean, I knew there was always the risk of this scenario, but…" Rivalz exclaimed almost hysterically.

"Guys, focus!" Rai snapped, Zerith blocking a barrage of lasers heading for Aka just in time, "If we get distracted, more people are going to die!"

Before anyone could respond, a large form shrieked past them, beelining towards the castle.

"What the-was that Yoru?!" Milly gasped.

"What's Suzaku doing?!" Rivalz gasped.

"Don't worry about him!" Lelouch ordered as Zenobia sliced through multiple ships, fires illuminating the lion's form behind her, "Rai's right! Focus on the enemy in front of you if you want to survive!"

"Lelouch, is Nunnally with you?" Kallen asked urgently.

"Yes, she's fine. We both are. Euphemia though… Suzaku's rushing her to the infirmary."

"What?!" Shirley gasped, "What happened?!"

Lelouch grit his teeth, "Someone-no, the Emperor tried to kill her…"

Seeing the Purple Lion returning to the castle, Allura, Coran, and C.C. raced to the lion's hanger. Shortly after the Emperor's announcement ended, the castle's link was cut. They only had access to the lion's commlinks but had no clue about the specifics that just transpired.

Nearly crashing onto the platform, Yoru screeched to a halt, not even stopping fully before lowering her mouth.

What came out had Allura gasping, hands flying to mouth. C.C. also froze.

"Oh, Alaaran…" Coran whispered as Suzaku held a blood-soaked Euphemia in his arms, his pristine white armor smeared crimson.

"Please! You have to save Euphie!" Suzaku gasped, his eyes wild, "Do something! You mustn't let her die!"

"Coran, prep a cryopod, now!" Allura frantically.

"Right away!" the advisor yelped before sprinting out of the hangar towards the infirmary.

With assistance from Guilford and Darlton, both Nonette and Cornelia managed to procure Gloucesters, both of which had float systems, for themselves. As they soared through the sky, staying close to the Le Fey, the princess saw that not only were the Galra fighters firing at the Japanese and other humans in their path, but several Sutherlands were also firing upon the people.

"What?!" she gasped. That couldn't be right! Euphemia had ordered those soldiers not to attack the Japanese.

Unless…

"You!" she shouted, accessing an open channel to the Sutherlands, "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I don't see why a traitor should be concerned with these matters any longer!" came the response from the commanding officer of the units below.

Gritting her teeth, Cornelia didn't back down. "You were given strict orders before we were announced as traitors not to harm these people!"

"Apologies, Cornelia," the officer sneered, "But any orders from the Emperor trump those of any lowly princess!"

Now, everyone knew that Cornelia li Britannia had a temper, so if you wished to survive around her, it was best you didn't provoke it. However, if there was one thing that would instantly earn you her wrath, it was speaking ill in any way towards her sister.

Cornelia dove towards the massacre with a roar of challenge, Nonette and the rest of her faithful knights right behind her.

"No!" Rai gasped as he and the rest of the Paladins also witnessed a large number of Britannian forces turning on the Japanese. Bodies of men, women, and children were strewn everywhere, and neither the Britannians nor the Galra showed any signs of stopping.

"Why…?" Shirley cried, tears running down her cheeks.

"Even our own home?!" Rivalz uttered, eyes shaking.

Milly could only bow her head, feeling absolutely helpless.

"Lelouch, we need help!" Kallen shouted. Aka's head turned towards their leader.

"Yes…" Lelouch nodded, barely containing his own emotions of grief and anger. He promptly contacted the castle, accessing the channel that would speak from every point and room on the Castle of Lions.

"This is my order to all Black Knights!" he exclaimed, "Charles zi Britannia is now officially our enemy! The coward has sided with the Galra and openly declared anyone who sides with us as traitors, even fellow Britannians! All Black Knights and Paladins, wage an attack now! Wipe out all Galra and Britannian forces! Save the people! Hurry!"

#fanfic #code geass #voltron

1 note · View note

manlethotline · 5 years

Text

I was going to write a quick analysis of what smoking in The Goldfinch means but like always I got very carried away and I think I found basically every time smoking gets mentioned in the book. For the sake of my non tgf followers I’m putting this under a readmore, but here is an essay length examination of the thematic importance of cigarettes. In The Goldfinch. And in general.

A cigarette is one of the more thematically loaded props a character can have. For years smoking and was used as shorthand to mean lower class, then turned into a symbol of decadence and vice as smoking became more common. An air of bohemian intellectualism- intelligence with a touch of depravity- is not complete without a cigarette in hand. For a while cigarettes were code for homosexuality, eventually loosening to general sexual promiscuity and eventually loosening even more to show a character was ‘cool’ with a touch of moral ambiguity. And cigarettes will never shake free of the looming shadow of Freudian psychology- a cigar is never just a cigar, and neither is a cigarette.

Anyway, you could go on about cigarette symbolism for days, but we’re here, as per usual, to talk about The Goldfinch. Because Theo smokes- we learn that on page one- too many cigarettes in his Amsterdam hotel room. Now Theo isn’t exactly cool- though he is morally ambiguous, but more importantly later in the book we see who got him started smoking. And as with all of Theo’s vices besides Pippa, it’s Boris.

Are cigarettes cool? Oscar Wilde once said that a cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want? Oscar Wilde was also sent to prison on indecency and sodomy charges- a sentence that eventually killed him. Cigarettes were a key fashion statement in Dadaism, Decadence, and Bohemia. Yet while smoking was adored by the ‘artistic crowd’ most upper class society folks wouldn’t be caught dead with cigarette in hand. A pipe perhaps, but not a cigarette. After all, cigarettes were first made by those who couldn’t afford tobacco picking up discarded cigar butts and retooling them thinner- easier to move with- a history still reflected in the name. A working class activity. In the late 1800s cigarettes were thought to cause insanity, among other forms of ‘degeneracy’- yet still people smoked. The allure was too much to deny. And by the advent of the silver screen smoking was accepted. Cigarettes are cool.

So Boris smokes. His room in Vegas reeks of Marlboros (gee Borya, why is your brand of choice the one most heavily marketed to rugged masculine sexuality), and that first afternoon Theo turns down the cigarette Boris offers him- though he does take him up on the beer. So far this fits with Theo’s first impression of Boris as a homeless looking kid passing cigarettes back and forth, slotting Boris more in the morally grey badass zone of cigarette smoking. Safe, familiar.

But this changes quickly- it is specifically pointed out that Boris lost his virginity to someone he’d bummed a cigarette off- a story he tells Theo while blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. There’s a clear connection now between sexuality- specifically Boris’ sexuality- and cigarettes. And not just sexuality, but vulnerability, Boris is smoking specifically as he admits that he doesn’t think she liked it very much, something a so-called Marlboro Man would be reticent to admit. There’s also an obvious Freudian allegory here about phallic objects, but we’ll come back to that.

The next time we hear about Boris’ smoking, it is when he and Theo are lying in bed together listening to Mr. Pavlikovsky have sex with or otherwise terrorize two sex workers. As if that wasn’t loaded with sexuality and vulnerability on its own, Boris has Theo light the cigarette for him, and they pass it back and forth as they listen to whatever is going on down the hall. So somewhere between learning about Boris’ sexual history and becoming comfortable enough to share a bed with him, Theo has taken up smoking- though he’s obviously not completely comfortable with it since he mentions it makes him feel light-headed and sick. And now we get to talk about sharing a cigarette!

So passing a cigarette back and forth, or lighting it for someone else has been used as a shorthand for intimacy and sexual tension basically as long as cigarettes have existed. Back when the Hays code was in effect film-makers used cigarette sharing as a way to imply two characters having sex- especially same sex pairs who couldn’t even embrace on camera. Along with sharing a drink (something else Boris and Theo do often) it’s an indirect kiss. They lean in, breath hot on each other’s faces, and do a favor for each other with just a thinnest shroud of plausible heterosexual deniability.

Huh. I promise we will get to phallic imagery eventually.

There are more scenes of cigarette sharing between the two in Vegas- after the night it’s implied they first have sex they share one, and there are a few other instances we don’t have time to touch on one at a time. Suffice to say they’re intimate now.

But to say that cigarettes are sex is reductive. When it’s Boris smoking, yes, it is sexually loaded, but Boris is not the only character who smokes. Xandra and Larry smoke too. And it’s not just that they smoke, but more specifically that they provide the cigarettes for Boris and Theo. The night after the pool they aren’t smoking just anything, they’re smoking Larry’s Viceroys. Boris steals Mr. Pavlikovsky’s lighter for Theo. Their intimacy, their vulnerability, is stolen from beneath the noses of their fathers- it’s a secret, a transgression, something that they are getting away with rather than just doing. Xandra actually calls Theo out for stealing her cigarettes. It’s one of the few actually positive interactions between the two- after she promises to bring him and Boris some food for Thanksgiving, practically setting them up a date. “Fine. I’ll hook you guys up. Just stay out of my cigarettes. I don’t care if you smoke.” In fact it’s maybe the only time anyone besides the two of them acknowledges and accepts their relationship- implying she knows exactly what is going on between them. For all the awfulness of Theo’s house it is something of a safe haven, especially for Boris, they aren’t taken care of, but they’re left alone, and the freedom of isolation is what allows them to find each other. And cigarettes are not merely sexual intimacy, but emotional intimacy, and perhaps just a shred of domesticity, something that hints at a promise of a different life- the kind their father’s would never condone- together somewhere.

The beginning of the end of their Vegas safe haven is foreshadowed with smoking as well. After Boris and Theo share a joint (not technically a cigarette but functionally the same act) Larry comes in, and not only remarks on the smell “you reek a bit Theo” and that Boris is definitely involved “where are you boys getting this stuff?” but he goes so far as to take what's left of the joint out of the ashtray and pocket it. Not only does he intrude on Theo’s private moment, he takes it away. Metaphorically, he has stolen the safety of his home from his son- and when next he appears he hits Theo and forces him to ask for money- the final deconsecration of the Vegas sanctum. But the damage is done as soon as he takes the butt out of the ashtray- Theo is no longer safe.

This has been a lot of talk about cigarettes as they relate to sex- but as with Theo returning to New York, we have to pry ourselves from Boris’ embrace eventually and talk about other characters.

Hobie smokes as well. When Theo first meets him he lights a cigarette, and when he catches Theo staring says “Don’t tell me you want one too.” Theo also specifically mentions Hobie smoking while cooking, one of the first times after his mother’s death that he feels safe, accepted once again. So again cigarettes are an expression of vulnerability, not sexuality but rather a loving, compassionate vulnerability. Theo and Hobie find each other after experiencing profound loss, and for Theo those days of healing, of first learning to put his hands to good use in the workshop, are entangled with the smell of Hobie’s cigarettes. Cigarettes as safety, cigarettes as sanctuary. Cigarettes as metaphor for emotional vulnerability, a way to feel close. Common ground.

Hobie is obviously gay coded, he lives with another man, raises a child with him, cooks-he would fit right into the gallery of what gay characters looked like before gay characters could be explicit- and cigarettes are just another detail of that. In some ways it’s another common ground between him and Theo- an uncomfortable conversation about men they have loved and lost that they skirt carefully around, yet to have a straightforward conversation about what exactly they felt for the men they shared their lives with, the men they lit cigarettes for and mourned bitterly. Theo turning down Hobie’s offer of a cigarette in some ways exemplifies the opportunity missed by the both of them struggling to discuss their true feelings with one another. Perhaps someday they can sit down for a smoke and finally talk about everything.

Neither Pippa or Kitsey smoke. It’s another thing that makes Theo’s relationship with Boris seems so much more intimate than his relationship with either of them- even though has sex with Kitsey they still have each other at arms length, not sharing with each other, not even having this shared experience of vulnerability with each other. In fact, Kitsey dislikes it when he smokes in her bedroom, slamming the door shut on one of the few ways that Theo actually can express himself, one of the few islands that occasionally crests over his waves of repression. When he learns of her infidelities he grinds out a cigarette butt on her dresser- a passive aggressive note- he may say he’s fine but everything is not well, and all his rages and aches are compressed into a streak of ash on a Limoges box. Doubt she’ll have anything to say about it. Beyond that note of anger, there is barely any mention at all of Theo smoking in his adulthood- you could almost be fooled into thinking he was quitting.

Yet as soon as Boris reappears, so do cigarettes. Just before he confesses to stealing the painting- one of the most honest scenes in the book- as he talks about how he was trying to have fun and be happy. [Theo] wanted to be dead. and moments before broaching their relationship as teenagers, Boris is toying with a cigarette. Not smoking it, not quite going that far, Theo isn’t ready yet, but reminding him that it’s there, that rekindling that sort of relationship is an option that he is more than willing to choose. At the engagement party he appears with unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers- another promise he has yet to keep, a hint to Theo at what might come next, come along and find out, the only thing that’s made sense all night. When he does eventually smoke a cigarette it is in Amsterdam, when he finally has Theo back in his good graces, ready to make the next move.

Also in Amsterdam, in their most triumphant moment, just having retrieved the painting and as Boris demands Theo ride alone with him, he lights a cigarette. And now we can finally talk about phallic imagery, because as Boris puts this cigarette to his lips, he tells Theo that now we can go and get you a real blowjob. It’s almost comical.

So anyway, cigarettes look like dicks. Only a little bit off topic, let’s talk about Edward Bernays. He was an ad executive back in the 20s, and the campaign he was most well known for was for Lucky Strike Cigarettes. You see, most women at the time didn’t smoke, it was considered unladylike. But Eddy knew that he was missing out on half the market, and decided what is considered one of the first great PR campaigns, series of ads with the slogan ‘Torches of Freedom’ that took advantage of the first wave feminist movement and branded cigarettes as symbols of rebellious independence, glamour, seduction and sexual allure. It was insanely successful, and where many of our pop culture views on cigarette use stem from (along with the decadence art movement in the late 1800s).

But Bernays was more than just a lucky guy- he was actually working off of the ideas of his more well known uncle, a real piece of shit named Sigmund Freud. And based off of Freud’s theories of subconscious desire, Bernays put two and two and realized that cigarettes are an obvious symbol for a penis- same as a gun or a paintbrush or maybe even a tiny sausage balanced precariously on a toothpick that your best friend has developed an odd taste for. Bernays dove head first into the Id, because he was marketing to women, and it was safe for him to acknowledge that cigarettes are incredibly sexually suggestive without upsetting the delicate heterosexual identity of the smoking American male. And the Marlboro Man, resplendent in his denim and cowboy hat, continued to be one of the most successful ad campaigns in history. But cigarettes, unlike guns, don't penetrate others- they are delicately placed between your lips, held daintily as you suck and blow and taste the slightest hint of the Vodka aftertaste he left behind before he passed it onto you. It’s intensely homoerotic- the man in the Marlboro ad puts a penis to his lips, adjusts his Stetson with a wink- don’t worry I’m straight. Just like all the other cowboys. Queer scholar Dennis Altman once put forward that because same-sex comradeship was particularly important in American life, there was a particular revulsion for anything that exposed the sexual nature of such relationships.

And my word, doesn’t that sum up Boris and Theo just perfectly. An insistence that when Boris’s bloody lips met Theo’s raw knuckles they became blood brother’s, nothing more. An assertion that it happens at that age sometimes, whatever, unfortunate mistake. But in that moment, as Boris lets the cigarette touch the tip of his tongue, flicks a calloused thumb roughly over the edge of the lighter- so similar to the one he stole from his father and gave to Theo all those years ago- and lets his mouth smile around the promise of a real blow job- for a moment things are exposed, if only just in that secret Vegas language only the two of them know. Rubbing his knuckles on my sleeve. He insists on getting Theo alone- well and truly alone, come let’s get back to your hotel and then, well... who knows what he had planned. What both of them were hoping for. But he is smoking, he is making promises he intends to keep, inviting Theo back into that private little world of shared cigarettes that Larry tore them out of long ago.

And when they are interrupted by Martin and his goon squad, Boris- cigarette in mouth- stood frozen. He has been caught with his hairpins down- interrupted in a moment of intimacy that was just beginning. It is the same as Larry pocketing that joint- sorry boys, smoke break’s over. In the fight he spits his cigarette in Frits’ face, defiant. Weaponizing what he feels for Theo- risking death to reclaim what is rightfully his because he WORKED FOR IT GODAMMIT.

Neither Boris nor Theo light a cigarette for the rest of the book.

Of course, we don’t know what exactly happens in Antwerp.

But, perhaps rather than meaning that that is a promise that remains unfulfilled, maybe they have moved beyond them. They don’t need a Freudian stand-in anymore, because they can actually talk to one another. Boris spat out his cigarette, showed without a crutch that he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Theo, and Theo sees a half-smoked cigarette in a puddle of blood and answers Boris’ question with a bullet in another man’s brain. A thresh-hold is crossed, and when they reunite things are changed. They can admit their importance to each other and perhaps, in Antwerp, though Theo draws the curtains on the scene quickly, perhaps things are not nearly so symbolic as before.

So cigarettes are communication, vulnerability, understanding and intimacy? To smoke is to love, to feel fully and hope for a better world? Sadly, no. Because smoking kills. And so far this analysis has had a massive hole in it in the very conspicuous shape of a dead mother. Or at least the shape of a box of ashes and porny newspaper ads abandoned somewhere in Central Park.

It’s much rarer to see smoking on film nowadays. Partially this is a reflection of real life- smoking rates have been on the decrease since the 50s, and since most public places now can smoking, you have to go out of your way to see a character lighting a cigarette. Much of this, though, comes from external forces. Cigarette advertising has been banned on TV for decades, and since the 90s there have been stricter and stricter rules on how smoking can be portrayed in media. Smoking cannot be shown at all. Smoking can only be shown if the character eventually faces consequences in the form of bad health and social rejection. Smoking can only be shown if the character smoking is portrayed as irredeemable, undeniably the villain, and perpetrates other unforgivable acts.

The reason Theo and Audrey were at the museum the day of the bombing is because Theo got suspended. And though he fears it was for breaking into houses, he is pretty sure it was because he got caught smoking. Or rather, standing around with Tom Cable while he smoked. Had Theo never faffed around with cigarettes in the first place, his mother might still be alive.

Which he feels all the more guilty for because Audrey hated smoking. Lung cancer killed both her parents- banished her to an aunt’s house the same way her own death sent her son languish in Las Vegas. Generational orphaning, all because of smoking. No wonder Theo turns down Hobie and Boris’ offers at first- it is one of the ways he betrays his mother. His first cigarette kills her, and each one after that pushes him further and further away from the version of himself he thinks she would be proud of. When he shares that cigarette in Boris’s bed- surrounded by smoke and spilled beer and the smell people get when nobody cares about them- he dreams about her. What are you doing here? Go home! Right now! He has let her down in the most fundamental way he can- letting himself indulge in a vice he knows she wouldn’t forgive him for. Another way he has let himself become like his father, just as he prayed never would be.

And yet Theo smokes. He melts into Hobie’s cooking, into the sharp curve of Boris’ smile, into the forbidden pleasures of street corners and friendly faces lurking in doorways. Each drag buries his mother deeper, hacking at his leg to free himself from the trap of loss, of what he will never be able to become. Sorrow inseparable from joy. Theo burns and is lungs fill with museum ash and chlorine and to clear his throat he lights a cigarette.

And another cigarette

Or, as they call them in Europe sometimes, fags.

#the goldfinch #Theo decker #tgf #tgf analysis #literary analysis #smoking tw #boris palikovsky #boreo

451 notes · View notes

chrysalispen · 4 years

Text

Prompt #25 - Wish

aurelia bas laskaris, age 16

AO3 Link HERE

=============

Sometimes it seemed as though the entire span of L'haiya dus Eyahri’s life had been defined by the Empire. It had influenced her path even before she was born. Her mother had been in the city of Rabanastre when it fell to imperial troops, and the Garlean soldier who had sired her--- well, best not to think much on him. Mother had wed a cobbler from the edge of the capitol's market district when L'haiya was four summers old. He had raised her, and to L’haiya’s mind he was her true father.

In the old days she might have attended a primary school before taking on her family's trade, but under imperial occupation such luxuries were not afforded to her or her compeers. L'haiya and her half-sister L'jhutei were sent away to a school in the capitol for "the finest education the Empire can offer" as it was phrased by the viceroy ("propaganda," her father had called it, muttering it so quietly that he must have thought her unable to hear), one which had turned out to be a military school. Both sisters had had a commission into the legions after graduation.

L’haiya had almost taken it, too. But then? Well, then she had met Vittora cen Remianus, and Vittora had met her husband, and…

Perhaps it was for the best. Her service to the Laskaris family had earned her a fast path to imperial citizenship, after all; Mama would have said one was as good as the other, were she here, and the equally practical L'haiya was not one to look too much askance at such a boon. Even if it had left her in the rather troublesome position of raising her friend's child.

She stared at that slumped posture, the bowed golden head. From the porch, she could see her charge's shoulders trembling but could not tell if she was shivering from the night air or if she was still crying.

L’haiya felt a sort of stern and helpless pity for her. Although Julian rem Laskaris’ only child had learned something of the importance of controlling herself and learning which battles to pick (particularly in a place like the Empire, where speaking one’s mind in the wrong ears could have very severe consequences indeed), children would be children. The girl was very young and very sheltered, and she had been friends with the boy since they were small. L’haiya didn’t suppose she would have taken well to the news either were their positions reversed.

Quietly she rapped on the door and stepped over the threshold into the garden. The stars overhead were a diamond spray and the air still carried the day's warmth.

“Aurelia.”

“Go away,” the Garlean girl said in a choked voice. “I don’t want to talk.”

L’haiya made her way down the steps and into the grass, her skirts swishing about her legs, and perched herself upon the edge of the Doman fountain next to her charge. Aurelia’s body went rigid, but she said nothing and remained in place. “Your father-”

“If you’ve come to tell me I was a fool, you needn’t do so. I know I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know.” The girl sniffled and wiped at her eyes, then returned her hands to her lap. “But I just- I don’t understand how Father could do this to me. I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye, or wish him well! If I could have had at least a few more days with him then-”

“I think that would have been quite unwise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father had nothing to do with L’sazha’s early departure, Aurelia. He left under my advisement.” The Miqo’te’s voice was steady. Calm. “And 'tis well that he did. You’ve caused trouble enough for the boy as it is.”

“Sazha is an adult by imperial law. As am I,” Aurelia said stiffly. “We’ve hardly any need for my father’s approval to do as we wish.”

“What you did,” she snapped back, her words clipped and cold, “posed a serious risk not just to you, but to L’sazha. The tribunus would have had him swinging from the nearest gibbet did he know the extent of your dalliance.”

"But he didn't know. We were careful and nothing happened until you decided to meddle in our affairs. Father barely cares enough to ask me about my studies, never mind aught else."

L’haiya wanted to shake her. She took a deep, measured breath.

“I was young once myself. And I daresay I was just as selfish and thoughtless,” she said. “I can hardly fault you for your age. But I feel the need to spare you your blushes by explaining the implications of what you did, as you don’t appear to quite understand the magnitude of it.”

“If we were adventurers, no one would have cared who I am, or what we-”

"The fact is that you are not an adventurer, Aurelia,” she snapped. “And this is not Eorzea. For better or worse we live in the Garlean Empire and under imperial jurisdiction. L'sazha is my legal ward and you are a lady of a certain social status. Better that you be angry with me for a time. It would have been not only dangerous to let the two of you continue on as you were, but it would also have been wildly irresponsible on my part.”

Aurelia looked stricken, her face pale. Relentlessly, L’haiya continued on.

“They hang our kind for far lesser offenses, Aurelia. If you care a whit about that boy, even a fraction of what you claim, you’ll go apologize to your father and put a decisive end to this romance of yours.”

“But-”

“But what?”

Aurelia’s chin quivered.

“I love him. I’ve loved him for so long.”

Seven hells, she might have known it was as simple - and as dangerous - as that. She’d assumed the girl’s interest in her Miqo'te companion to be little more than a childish infatuation, but it seemed their feelings had blossomed beneath her nose into something deeper than she had suspected. She had deluded herself it would pass, and in the meantime, they'd fallen in love with each other. Or as close as a pair of children could get to romantic love.

“I know you think you’re in love with him, Aurelia. But you’ll move on. And so will he. That's the way of things, good and bad.”

“No, I won’t,” she choked. “You don’t understand at all. He loves me, and once I’m done with school and my enlistment-”

“Let Sazha move on with his life,” L’haiya said, in a quieter, gentler tone. Better not to let the girl finish that statement. Better not to let her even entertain the notion it might be possible. “Let him find himself. He deserves better than my largesse and your shadow.”

Aurelia's stare was full of incredulous fury- and then her angry expression crumpled into one of despair, and on its heels welled a single sob of broken-hearted anguish. This time L’haiya put an arm about her shoulders and pulled her in for an embrace, and met no resistance. One of the girl's hands dropped into her lap and the other grasped at a handful of L’haiya’s linen shirtwaist as she buried her head under her governess’ chin.

“It’s all right, sunshine,” L'haiya murmured. “All will be well in the end. You'll see.”

“I’ll never love anyone again.”

“Yes, you will.”

“As long as I live,” she vowed, “never.”

She kissed the bright golden crown of hair and nestled her cheek against its softness, this child who she loved as her own, and let her spend her grief without comment. It was what it was. Years abroad on tour with the army would do one of two things to their relationship - either it would strengthen their resolve to be together (in which case, L’haiya thought, they would have little choice but to defect) or it would cool their passions. L’haiya expected the latter; sixteen was very young, and carried with it little foresight or understanding of the way love worked.

But she knew Aurelia would hear none of that. The girl might have the look of her mother but she was every bit as obstinate as Julian rem Laskaris had ever been.

“Elle?” the girl said, in a small and choked voice.

“What?”

“Can I tell you something? A secret?”

“Go on.”

The hand that had gathered in her shirtwaist clenched into a fist.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I wish I had never been born.”

“Oh, child, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” The words were harshly emphatic. “Mama and Father were so happy together. But then I came along and ruined everything.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“It is. I wish I weren’t who I am.”

“Why would you even consider something so dreadful?” L’haiya felt something in her chest twist. “Aurelia, darling-”

“I mean it. Every time Father looks at me, I see it in his eyes,” she choked. “He resents me. If he had the choice between me or Mama, he’d have taken Mama without even thinking about it. Sazha made me happy. I didn’t have to feel guilty about being myself when I was with him, ever. And now he’ll be on the other side of the world and I’ll just- I’ll be here, making everyone unhappy just by existing. If I just hadn’t- I just-"

"Aurelia-"

"I just wish I could be someone else!” she wailed. "I wish I could be somewhere else, I wish I had any kind of purpose, but I don't, I'm just trapped in this cage and I can't-"

L’haiya bowed her head. There was nothing she could say and little more she could do, to speak either to her charge's frustration or her suffocating loneliness. She was a practical woman who had made a promise to a close friend to watch over her family, but nothing in that promise had prepared her for a man so bereft of his wife he could not bear to raise his own child.

Something had to be done, she thought. Or at least said. It was her fault for allowing Julian to continue as he had done for so many years, not wanting to rock the boat and tell him he needed to behave like the father he was. She decided she would speak with him tonight, as soon as she was able.

But in the meantime, she couldn't leave Aurelia alone like this. So she sat with the girl in silence, and let her weep until there were no tears left to shed.

#ffxivwrite2020 #prompt 25: wish

6 notes · View notes

disneydreamlights · 4 years

Text

Across the Stars: Chapter 6

AO3 | FFN

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Summary: Tensions between the Separatists and the Republic are climbing as the Senate debates whether there is need for an army. Anakin Skywalker, Senator of Tatooine, has recently returned to Coruscant to speak against its formation, resulting in an assassination attempt that forces him to reunite with long time friends Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and the newly knighted Padme Naberrie for his own protection. [Anidala]

(Or, an Attack of the Clones Roleswap AU)

A/N: Kinda tired proofing this (first time in a while a Disney trip has left me so drained feeling. lol) so there might be some errors. If that is the case please let me know and I will fix asap.

Padmé sat down at the comm system and immediately entered a few commands, faster than Anakin could follow as he watched her input the information. Seconds later, a blue hologram of Obi-Wan appeared. "Padmé. I need you to transfer this message to the Jedi Council immediately." She didn't hesitate, immediately putting in more information to have it play to the council. Who was seeing it, neither of them were sure. "I have tracked the bounty hunter Jango Fett–" Was that the name of the one who was trying to have him killed? "-to the droid factory at Geonosis. The Trade Federation has started production of the Droid Army here."

"Droid Army?" Anakin felt his stomach drop, but Padmé shushed him before he could say anything more, clearly intent on hanging onto her master's words.

"It is likely that the viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Skywalker. The commerce guilds and the corporate alliance have pledged their armies to Count Dooku. And are forming a–" Obi-Wan cut off, pulling out his lightsaber in defense. "Wait–" He vanished from the projection moments later, a Droid appearing in his place before the message stopped.

Anakin looked over to Padmé, who was looking at the projection in a numb state of shock.

"Knight Naberrie, are you alright?" The voice of Master Windu seemed to shake her out of frozen state, as she focused on the council rather than her own worries.

"I'm fine, Master Windu." She smiled, although it was clearly tense judging by the way the corners of her smile pulled, almost like she was trying too hard. Anakin wasn't much better, if he was being honest. Obi-Wan was practically his hero, and the man was clearly in trouble. "We need to get going, we can't leave Obi-Wan like that."

"Wrong you are not." Yoda agreed. "In danger, Knight Kenobi is."

"What do we do?" Padmé asked, looking to the two Jedi Masters for guidance.

"Stay with the Senator, do not let him out of your sight for any reason. Now that they know we're looking into them, the Separatists might become much more bold in their attempts to take him out," Master Windu answered, Anakin frowned and felt Padmé tense beside him.

"Master Jedi, with all do respect I can take care of myself, Obi-Wan is–"

"Senator Skywalker." Master Windu turned his attention to Anakin, much to his discomfort. "I understand that you and Padmé both may want to help, but as of right now you're too much of a target. We can't leave you alone. It's likely Jango Fett may attempt to strike at you, not to mention while you may have some skills, you aren't trained." He shut down any discussion.

"I understand." Padmé nodded.

Normally, Anakin would be thrilled for his time alone with Padmé to be extended once more. Right now, it was the last thing he wanted if it came at the expense of their friend. "Padmé, you can't let them–"

"Anakin, please." Begrudgingly, Anakin backed down at Padmé's plea for him to be quiet. "Please keep us in the loop, Mace."

"We will. May the Force be with you both." With that, the communication between the Jedi Council and the two came to an end.

For a moment, they were silent, neither of them speaking. "So that's it? Because of me you're just going to let Obi-Wan die!" This was the woman he was in love with? He'd thought she was a brave Jedi Knight, not some coward who chose the safe option when her closest friend was at risk.

"Anakin–"

"No, I get it. The Council is in charge and I get that, but that doesn't mean we can just leave him there. You can't actually–"

"Anakin! I'm not leaving Obi-Wan to die."

Anakin shook his head. "You aren't? What if the Council doesn't get there in time. He'll be as good as dead. You're the only Jedi who can get there in time for sure!"

"I know." Padmé was so calm, which threw Anakin off. How could she be so calm when Obi-Wan's life was in danger. This wasn't a time to be calm. This was a time to be trying to save him. "Anakin, what did they tell me to do?"

Anakin paused, trying to remember what Master Windu had said. "He told you to stay here with me?"

"He told me not to let you out of my sight." Anakin caught onto what Padmé was saying with a grin. "So if you choose to go to Geonosis to rescue Obi-Wan…"

"You have to follow me." It was a shortcut around their orders, around the rules Master Windu had set. If it wasn't for the boundaries that Padmé had decided they needed to set last night, if they hadn't agreed not to fall in love, he might have kissed her right then and there.

Padmé smiled, although it still seemed less genuine than her smiles over the week had been. "So Anakin, how do you feel about saving a Jedi?"

Anakin turned to R2, the little blue droid having faithfully waited while they retransmitted the message to the council. "Artoo, ready one of my ships." The two of them would get there faster, if he flew after all.

They had a rescue mission to get started.

-x-

Three hours had passed since they'd left Tatooine to rescue Obi-Wan, and Anakin hadn't seen anything of Padmé since they'd left the planet behind for their mission. She'd stated she'd needed to meditate, to release her emotions into the Force, and he was happy to respect that, but admittedly even Anakin was starting to get bored piloting a ship through hyperspace. There wasn't a lot to do while the ship travelled to Geonosis, and he could only lose games to R2 so many times before it started to get old.

"I'm going to go check on Padmé." He stood up from the game table.

The Astromech beeped at him, reminding him that Padmé had asked for space during the trip. "I know Artoo, but I can't just leave her there. I'm not Obi-Wan's former Padawan and I'm worried, she only became a knight about a month ago. She can't be happy to just sit there alone." His mom had taught him that emotions were easier to process if you had somebody to confide in about them. Right now, Padmé had nobody, or at least she was acting like she had nobody. But even if they weren't together, they were still friends. "Just watch the ship." He ignored the droid's further protests, stepping into the bed chambers built into the ship that Padmé had made her temporary meditation space.

Anakin couldn't bring himself to regret his decision as he stepped into the room. It was clear Padmé had given up on meditating, and was instead sitting on the bed, playing with something in her hands and looking rather dejected and alone. She jumped as he sat down next to her, startled. He put one hand on her leg. "Credit for your thoughts?"

Padmé frowned. "What are you doing back here?"

"Artoo can watch the ship in case of an emergency." He smiled, hoping he came off as more reassuring than he was. "I figured right now, you've done enough meditating, and anymore would do more harm than good."

"I haven't done enough." Anakin was surprised at her admission. "Not until I've managed to work through all of my fear for Obi-Wan."

"Work through?"

"It's how we deal with our emotions. We're supposed to figure them out and understand them, and then release them into the Force." Padmé smiled.

Another time, Anakin might have asked for a lesson, but this wasn't about him learning about the Jedi. It was about giving Padmé an outlet to talk about it. "And you haven't done that?"

"I'm...struggling with the working through them part." The fact that she admitted it probably meant that she was more worried than he'd thought. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose Obi-Wan, and every time I think I've finally worked through it, I just keep getting worried all over again."

How he'd thought only hours earlier Padmé could've left Obi-Wan to die on Geonosis, Anakin wasn't sure. He pulled her into a hug, knowing he was probably ignoring her request for space to some degree, but also knowing right now she needed some kind of steadying force more than either of them needed space to get over their crushes. (His crush? He still wasn't one hundred percent sure if it went both ways.) "We'll make it in time. Count Dooku can't do anything to Obi-Wan without sparking an intergalactic war, and right now, the Separatists want peace as much as we do." He hoped they did anyways, but now wasn't the time to doubt it.

Padmé nodded, hugging him in return. "Thank you, Anakin." The more realistic, but less positive outcome and suspicions remained unsaid between them, and he continued to hold her, hoping to provide any reassurance she needed. "I hope you're right."

"I will be. Obi-Wan isn't dying, not today." Neither of them could afford to lose the Jedi Knight right now, so they wouldn't. It was that simple.

For a few more moments, they held onto each other, not saying anything as Padmé simply breathed in the comfort, and Anakin enjoyed her presence in his arms, but they had to return to the very real reality at some point, and so Anakin let go, and Padmé followed, a shaky smile on her face. Anakin couldn't help but feel proud that he'd managed to provide her with a stability her meditation had failed to give. Or at least he hoped it was stability.

"So, what were you looking at anyways?" he asked. Padmé looked up at Anakin, startled. "You were playing with something when I came in, remember?"

"That's...not important." She put her hand into her pocket, and Anakin noticed a chain in her hand as she put it away before taking her hand out of her robe.

"Sure it's not, so that's why you're hiding it."

Padmé sighed, realizing she wouldn't be able to get away with it. "It's the necklace you gave me."

"You still have it?" It was a gift from a nine year old to the girl he was crushing on, and Jedi weren't supposed to have a lot of personal belongings. If he was honest, Anakin was surprised she still had the Japor Snippet.

Padmé nodded. "The Jedi don't believe in luck, but I wanted to have it on me anyways, just in case." It took all of Anakin's power to not try to kiss her again, but she'd asked, and they'd both agreed that love wasn't on the table. "I can't wear it in case it gets damaged, but I can always keep it near me."

"I'm glad." And he meant it. It was something that kept them together, even when everything else wasn't so fortunate. "Why don't you come with me for a bit? I could use the company, and I don't think you'll get any farther in your meditation while you're here."

"I might, you wouldn't know." Padmé stood up anyways, following the same logic as him in that her meditation was done anyways, and Anakin led the way to the cockpit, hoping to continue to provide a distraction the rest of the way there.

-x-

Three games of Dejarik, a round of Sabbac, and a still victorious Astromech later, the ship's navigation systems went off, signifying a return to the real space around them. Anakin took up the controls of the ship, leaving Padmé to check the rest of the systems as he grabbed the wheel, navigating them to the surface of Geonosis.

"We need to be careful where we land," Padmé suggested. "Somewhere out of the way and in cover, so the Geonosians and droids don't notice us."

"They won't." Anakin smirked. "You know I'm better at flying than to get us caught."

Padmé laughed. "It doesn't matter if we get shot down, we don't want to be the reason a war breaks out between the Separatists and Republic, or do your words against creating an army mean nothing?"

"No, I mean them." Anakin turned to him. "But you do know the reputation I have."

"I guess we'd better be ready for a war by the end of the night." Anakin went to defend himself, but stopped, realizing she was teasing him.

He was definitely going to need a lot of time away from her after they rescued Obi-Wan if he wanted to get over the crush he'd had on her since he was nine, that was for sure.

"Do you have a weapon?" she asked, turning serious. Anakin nodded, pulling out a blaster. "Good. Stay close to me, and if we get separated, find some place to hide. I'll find you once Obi-Wan is safe." And with that, the ship touched the ground and the dock extended, and it was time to get moving onto the surface of the planet.

Padmé took lead, her blue lightsaber in her hands and Anakin followed after her, happy to do so and finally get a chance to see her fight now that she'd finished her Jedi training, if it came down to it at least.

She led them between the rocks, indicating to him when they'd need to hide and when they'd need to keep moving as droid sentries passed them by, using the Force to sense when they were getting close to keep them safe. Not that he needed the signals. Anakin may not have been nearly as well trained as Padmé, but he was strong, and able to tell what was going on around him with little effort when needed.

It wasn't long before they got into the factory itself, made obvious by the less natural walls and metal floors, and the oppressive feeling surrounding them that something was very wrong, that they were on the precipice of an inevitability, of something dark. They kept moving, hoping to avoid detection or trouble from anything that might be around.

"Wait." Padmé put her hand out, and Anakin sensed it too, a change in their surroundings, and before either could react two Geonosians jumped out of the shadows, flying at the two of them. Padmé turned on her lightsaber and immediately swung it, cutting the Geonosians in two before either of them could get hurt, and Anakin shot the other, not checking to see if he'd simply left it unconscious or dead.

"We need to go, now." Padmé didn't disagree with him, and the two started running down the hallway, Padmé's speed more than making up for the edge his height gave him as the two managed to keep pace with each other before reaching what looked like a doorway.

Anakin stopped short on the edge of an incomplete bridge, followed by Padmé as they looked down into the depths of the factory below. "We need to go back."

"There's no other choice." And before either of them could process anything, Padmé jumped, landing on a conveyor belt on the ground below her. "Anakin, come on!" He closed his eyes and put his faith in her before making the same jump, feeling the Force catch him as Padmé gently lowered him down safely.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and for a moment, her brown eyes softened as she looked him over, checking to make sure he was alright. They stood there unmoving, and though Anakin was desperately trying, he still found himself drawn in.

The crashing sound of the machinery surrounding them pulled both of them outside of the spell that was seemingly cast around them, bringing them back to reality once more. A large metal arm crashed into the treadmill, crushing whatever metal was surrounding it into a thin plate. "I'm fine, we gotta get off this thing."

Padmé nodded, but before either of them could do anything more, Anakin found himself pushed off the platform and into a vat beneath the treadmill, and he watched as Padmé helplessly got stuck on the treadmill. "No! Padmé!"

"Anakin! You have to get out of there?" The fear in her voice spoke volumes to say that whatever was possibly coming for him if he didn't get out of the empty trap might have been worse than it was for her.

He tried climbing up the walls of the vat, attempting to pull himself out of there, but there were no footholes or small ledges he could use to get a grip, just smooth metal. "I can't get out! There's no grip."

He looked over in her direction to see Padmé, hoping she would be doing better, but from what he could see, she appeared to be struggling with her casings, even with her lightsaber, unable to get out of them. There was no time. They had to think of something. A way out, where they could both survive. It had to be possible, it had.

A beeping noise overhead clued Anakin into a single idea as a familiar astromech droid appeared overhead above the vat. "Artoo?" The droid lowered down, allowing Anakin to climb on before he used his boosters to get Anakin out, evidently just in time as not moments later was the vat he was trapped in filled with some kind of molten metal, hot and likely to kill him had he let it. R2 let out a sarcastic comment, and Anakin smiled. "I know, thank you for saving my life bud. Now come on, we have to go help Padmé."

The droid dropped him off by the control panel, and Anakin removed his blaster to shoot at any droid's that came near, while the data probe extended into the panel. He just needed to provide cover until the droid could slice into the system and gain control. Thankfully, It wasn't long before the treadmill stopped. Padmé, no longer in danger from the risk of having her body crushed by metal, turned to encasing around her arm and began trying to pull free.

"Come on, let's go." Artoo flew over to where Padmé was, and Anakin jumped right over the control panel, quickly following in the droid's path as he ran over to the Jedi. R2 began working on the panel, and it wasn't long before Padmé's hand was free after the droid managed to melt through the metal holding her arm down.

"Ani." She looked like she wanted to say more, but held back anything more than her appreciative thanks. "I was worried you wouldn't get out in time."

"I'm fine and you're fine. Where's your lightsaber?" Padmé indicated the crushed pile of metal on the ground, a frown on her face as she did so. She used the Force to grab the small blue crystal within the wreckage. It seemed as though the power source to her weapon survived, even if the metal shell didn't. "I guess it doesn't matter. Come on, we have to get going."

"I know." She was the defenseless one now, but that didn't matter. The two were smart. They could make it through, so long as they didn't get spotted. Maybe not the easiest task, but far from the hardest they'd face. "We've got to be in the center of the Droid Factory...we have to be close to where they're hiding Obi-Wan."

Anakin nodded. "Then let's keep moving."

"Not another step." The two turned around to find themselves face to face with a Mandalorian man, surrounded by a few dozen battle droids. He had a blaster pointed at the two of them, and had Padmé still had her lightsaber, they might have been able to fight their way out of it, but without it, they were both powerless. He kept the blaster aimed at Padmé, but despite that he appeared to be more focused on Anakin. "Well, I suppose I owe you my gratitude, Jedi. You just made my life that much easier."

-x-

The rescue attempt was a complete failure, but the fact that he and Padmé had gotten themselves captured made Anakin feel arguably worse, given he'd been as insistent on going as Padmé had. Now he'd arguably caused her to fail her mission, and gotten themselves both killed in the process. A fantastic job, if he was honest with himself.

He glanced over at Padmé as she stepped in the chariot. Despite the fact that she was so small, she stood defiant. She looked every bit the Jedi she was, and he couldn't help but feel a flash of pride at how even a death sentence like the one they were facing couldn't bring her down, wouldn't stop her. He beat down the affection with everything he had, instead focusing on what was going on now. "I guess this is it." He let out an over dramatic sigh, noticing the slight twitch of a smile on her determined face.

"So it is." Padmé's response was so quiet, Anakin had to struggle to even hear it. "I'm sorry, Anakin."

"You did your best." Anakin wished more than anything else he could touch her, give her some amount of reassurances to go with his words, but with his hands bound together, there was little he could do. "Even Jedi have their limits to what they can do."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what is?" He looked at her, and the moment before she answered stretched to what felt like an eternity.

"I lied. What I told you earlier, it was wrong. I love you." Of all the things that could have been said, that was probably the only one he'd never imagined, never even thought to imagine.

Without realizing it, the words that plagued Anakin's thoughts escaped him. "You love me?" He looked away, unable to see her response. "I thought we'd decided not to fall in love. That the lies we'd have to tell, have to live through, that they'd destroy us."

"I think we're about to be destroyed anyways." He looked up at Padmé, startled, but unable to refute anything she'd said. The chances of them surviving the arena were low, almost nonexistent. She was right. If they were going to die anyways, then there wasn't a point in pretending anymore. It didn't matter if they were caught. Nobody in the Senate would hear about it, and the only Jedi who might likely wouldn't survive the night. No one left to find out. No one left to use it to ruin their lives. Their eyes met, and suddenly neither Senator nor Jedi wanted to look away from each other. To break the moment. "I truly, deeply, love you. Before we die, I wanted you to know."

Anakin wasn't sure whether it was Padmé or himself that first moved to close the distance, but it wasn't long before their lips met. Despite coming from a dire situation, the kiss was soft, hardly more intense than the one they had shared on Tatooine, but much more meaningful. Because more than anything, Anakin loved her, and that was all he wanted her to know.

They pulled away, and Anakin rested his forehead on Padmé's, not wanting to let the moment between them end. Neither said anything, instead simply holding on to what was likely the last chance they would have to be together. So much they both wanted to say despite knowing they would never get the chance.

The chariot began moving, causing them to pull away from each other.

Their execution had finally begun.

[Next Part]

#Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #Anakin #Padme Amidala #Padme #Obi Wan Kenobi #Obi Wan #Anidala #Heather Writes

5 notes · View notes

qm-vox · 4 years

Text

The Dwelling Gods - Sitting The Table

Previous Chapter: Battles of Gatax-Ob

CW: Maiming, Suicide

Yrull-Gatax ra Vell, 243 Year of Imperium (9/12 2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Approximately 2 months after signing the Terran Covenant)

GSS Chorus of Eyes, in orbit above the planet Gatax

A High Slayer’s ship says a lot about her priorities as a ruler and in turn about the Gataxian peoples’ fortunes. When we knew prosperity, it was not unusual for the soft larvae who called themselves Slayers to cruise the Pure States in yachts, throwing lavish parties for their subjects and throwing offerings of wealth to the people of the planets below. During the attempted cleansing of the wretched spirrans, my predecessor chose for his flagship the GSS Mournful Retribution, a Terravore-class battleship bristling with mass drivers that could crack continents. Powerful. Gaudy. Slow. The Astra Federation and their Revenants defeated it in detail, and all that remains of it now is a charred scrap of hull welded to the skirts of my throne.

Chorus of Eyes is different, almost like a space station; nestled amidst her guns are repair docks, advanced sensors, and hangar bays. It is a capital ship made to support and sustain a fleet, not to destroy one.

You cannot run a slaughterhouse if the workers have no knives.

I adjust myself on the perch of my throne, which has been carefully situated in the dining hall of my ship. There is no room for wasted space on a warrior’s vessel, but a Slayer, even the High Slayer, has political needs; the livery that decorates the place is a concession to those needs, amounting to approximately 100 kilograms of wasted weight on my ship. I tap one sharp fingertip against the metal perch of my throne and then speak into the room, for the benefit of the soldiers guarding myself and my viceroy: “The convicts are summoned into the Presence.”

Two of the soldiers leave their posts to do as they are bid. Beside me, my viceroy - Tiall-Gatax ra Noll, whose loyalty purchases for him an extensive right to back-talk and second-guess me - fidgets with the curved knife he holds in my name.

“The High Slayer is certain?” Tiall asks in a careful tone. I flap my wings just once, filling the air with glittering dust.

“These are uncertain times,” I answer, my voices vibrating softly through my carapace. “But I will follow through.”

We wait in silence that is disturbed only by the slow, drifting flap of our wings, until the doors open once more to admit the procession of convicts. Prison has not been kind to them; their carapaces are discolored, in some cases nearly bleached, and their wings are tattered and rotten, and in some cases have had to be surgically removed. Most are missing at least one finger, very much including the defiant young thing at their head. He is known to me; Professor Faul-Vran ra Rell’s trial had been national news among the Pure Peoples. Being convicted of treason and xenophilia destroyed his career and his life.

The hate in his multifaceted eyes reminds me of the eyes I see in the mirror.

“You stand before the Presence,” the soldiers boom in unison. “All hail Yrull-Gatax ra Vell, High Slayer and Protector of the Pure!”

I hold up a hand. “We will be dispensing with the formalities,” I say to the soldiers. “Release the convicts and escort them to their seats. Inform the galley that we are ready to receive the meal I have ordered.”

The Professor’s voices are a reedy whistle, made high and tight by holes punched in his carapace during his capture - holes which, by custom, were treated for infection only during his incarceration. But for all of that, I can feel his rage. “Why should I drink from any cup the Presence lifts?”

This is what I had been waiting for. I take to the air and come to rest at the head of one of the hall’s long tables, in plain view of the convicts - xenophiles, one and all. Dust scatters into the air from my wings, and soon enough my viceroy has joined me.

“Remind the Presence of the penalty for treason among the Pure,” I prompt, as the soldiers continue to unshackle my prisoners. I can see his pierced carapace trying to swell in anger, and interrupt immediately: “Humor me,” I tell the Professor, in my softest voices.

Professor Faul deflates with a rusty wheeze. “One finger,” he answers. “Removed so that even if the guilty know the mercy of the Presence, all will know their sin for what it is.”

I set my left hand down on the table, as flat as it will go. “Tiall.”

It hurts, when Tiall cuts the smallest finger from my left hand; the blood gushes from the cut, at least until one of my soldiers reaches me to cauterize it. Through it all, though, I have eyes only for the Professor, and at length he takes the high seat he has been offered. I let my soldier fuss over the cut for a long minute before I firmly and finally remind them that I had, in fact, given an order for a meal to be retrieved.

“You were right. All of you were right in your insistence that ignorance of our enemies would be our undoing,” I tell the gathered convicts. “Now the Pure People have been forced into alliance with the terrans and their Astra Federation, and I am neither so proud nor so stupid as to rebuke the knowledge you have to offer to us. As of this moment, you are pardoned formally of your crimes, and all sentences of xenophilia within the Pure States are being processed. The majority of the surviving convicts will be transported to terran space.” The fingers of my right hand curl inward, leaving curling gouges in the wood of the table. “They are not safe among their own people. Our new...friends...insisted, and we are in no position to debate the point.”

Professor Faul cannot draw in enough air for a proper laugh, and the end result of his hateful mirth is a series of pathetic squeaking sounds. “And you have brought us here to tell the grand tales of the High Slayer’s wisdom and mercy? Will you crawl into my cell and serve my long years of labor as well?”

“No, to both points.” I gesture to my viceroy, who takes out his dataslate to begin recording and annotating notes. “Each of you has been brought here because your...offenses...were singular, relating to the gathering of knowledge about xeno culture and technology. Professor, you said during your trial that you love your people and your nation. I believe you still do. The Presence and the Pure Peoples would ask you for that knowledge now.” I pause, letting the wretches before me register their surprise, before I continue. “Once primed and provided with reading material, the Presence would also commission your services in a diplomatic corps, that the Pure Peoples might sit the table of this...federation...we have been so enthusiastically extorted into joining, and make our will known to it.”

Professor Faul seems to struggle with whether he wants to be educational or enraged, but to his considerable credit he settles on the former. “The Presence is wise to understand that she will have much to learn that we cannot cover in a single dinner. Diplomacy with the terrans could be dangerous, especially until we find a counter for their...powers. I believe I can speak for my peers in saying that we require time to confer, and to offer our desires to the Presence in this matter.”

“Forty-eight hours,” I answer. “Starting after dinner. Your freedom and the gift of mercy is surely worth some remedial tutoring.”

“Ha. Even so, High Slayer. Even so.”

First Course: Politics

Luxury dining would be yet more wasted weight on my ship - and worse, weight wasted solely on myself and my advisors - but I can hardly serve my guests naval cuisine after a stay in prison. They would be under the understandable impression that they had never left. The ship’s medic had worked with the galley to draw up three courses that would not shred their digestion, and I waited until they had the chance to eat the first (a sweet nectar soup, made thick with porous noodles and chunks of meat) before I singled out my first topic of interest.

“I am given to understand that this Astra Federation we have so recently joined has similarities to the Pure Peoples’ own governance?” I suggest, as bowls are being cleared away. The way the soldiers assigned to that task cannot seem to decide if they are being honored or punished is most fun I’ve had in more than a year.

Silence greets my question as old instincts assert themselves among the convicts, but at length an elder (Ryull-Mox ra Nuir, if memory serves) shakes her crippled wings and speaks up in weak voices.

“Superficially, High Slayer,” the elder begins. “The Astra Federation does indeed represent a central body, which deals with matters of state which affect its members, regulates trade between them, provides for the common defense, and sets standards of sapient rights. Like the Pure Peoples, representatives are sent to its central body - the Astral Chamber - through democratic means. However, they do not appoint a central executive officer, which is to say, they have no High Slayer or analogous office. Their Admiralty is managed by appointed council instead, one from each member state.”

I keep my eyes on Ryull; my fingers gouge faint lines in the wood of the table as I idly trace patterns in it to keep my hands busy. “I see. And these members? How do they exert their influence?”

Ryull-Mox ra Nuir’s carapace swells in a cough, and then her voices are stronger and more clear. “Excluding ourselves, High Slayer, the voting members of the Astra Federation include the nations of Risen Terra, the United Spirran Communes, the Ibraxian States, and the Assisted Living Complexes ruled by the so-called ‘helper-bots’. Each full voting member sends one representative from each of its developed worlds, and any protectorate states under their influence send one representative total.”

I tap my finger. “I seem to recall those machines having a history of abducting organics.”

“They currently have many newly-founded protectorate states being encouraged to develop into full members,” the elder answers. Do I detect a hint of sass? “In terms of numbers, we are set to become an influential member of this federation, should the Presence choose to do so. Defeating it through force of arms has not historically been an option for the Pure Peoples.”

My wings twitch involuntarily, filling the air with dust. “Don’t remind me.”

Second Course: History

Tiall takes down a long list of reading suggestions on the topic of the Astra Federation and its various cultures while the next course is brought in; the plates of pull-apart bread, stuffed with a gently-spiced slurry of meats and vegetables, almost resemble quivering piles of noodles. From the soft noises of delight the convicts give off, my guess that a childhood favorite would soften the mood seems to have paid off.

There’s absolutely no point in trying to talk during the initial flurry of eating, so I may as well enjoy some myself, admittedly at a more sedate pace. I’ll need the energy for this next conversation in any event.

When the meal has started to calm down again, I turn my attention to the Professor. “Your -” I hesitate for a moment before coming to a decision, “colleague, rather pointedly referenced numbers in terms of our influence. But if this federation is so much like the Pure States, then numbers are only part of the story.”

That reedy wheeze again. “Astute of you, High Slayer. In practical terms, the terrans and their government exercise quite a bit of control over the Astra Federation.” Professor Faul sets down the chunk of stuffed bread he’d picked up in his pointed fingers. “As you well know, terran culture was the focus of my...alternative...research.”

I restrain the angry twitch of my wings. “I am here to learn, Professor. This will be easier if you can think of me as your student for the span of a conversation rather than dragging out your entirely reasonable, but utterly unhelpful, grievance every other sentence. Do me this courtesy.”

The Professor is silent, and at length takes a drink of the water before him, as if to get more time to think. Finally, he bobs his agreement. “What would the Presence know of the Children of the Phoenix?”

I take off from my seat to hover back from the table; it helps me think. “I want to know how they got here, what they believe, and why they believe it. The summary, for now, but if we’re being honest it is my intention to appoint you in particular as our emissary to them. The other...experts...have mainly died in captivity.”

Professor Faul attempts to inhale in order to begin his response, and instead wheezes for nearly a minute. I signal for a medic to be brought in - one will be needed for him sooner rather than later in any event - but he finds his breath before a serious emergency can develop. “This topic...” he wheezes deeply again, steadying himself, “is as complex as our own history. Any summary I can offer the Presence will be criminally simplified. With that caveat given, I will proceed. Would the Presence be able to supply a display?”

I nod to Tiall, who gets on the comms to see it done. The wait gives everyone time to finish this course and rinse their tongues with water, to say nothing of the medic arriving. The death glare I’m given by the physician would have gotten her shot by my predecessor, and I respond to it with dignified indifference. The professional dedication I seek in my personnel is, after all, what breeds such attitudes.

At length, the Professor leaves his seat (still attended by my oh-so-dedicated medic) to fuss with the display wheeled in by whichever luckless soldiers answered the comms. I can hear him muttering to himself about old equipment and throttle the urge to snipe back. Excuse the Presence for not wasting her people’s money on cutting-edge media technology for her military vessel, civilian.

With the display arranged to his liking, the Professor taps the side of it to get the attention of what is now his class. I briefly glare at the soldiers trying to surreptitiously lean around so they can see better, and they snap back to attention at their posts.

“The people who now call themselves terrans are not natives of Risen Terra,” Professor Faul begins; he swiftly sketches and obscures a crude planet on the display. “Much like the early days of gataxian interstellar colonization, they began aboard a sub-light ship, in their case pitched through an unstable wormhole. This would prove to have grave consequences on their development, as they were cut off utterly from their original homeworld.” He writes something in their strange script beneath the obscured planet and pronounces its name with great difficulty, “Earth, or more literally, ‘Dirt’. This would have been roughly 1850 to 1890 Pre-Imperium, around the time the Pure Peoples began our own sub-light colonization of neighboring systems.”

Tiall can’t seem to help himself: “Is there a reason they chose to go such an unknown distance with so few certainties?”

“All sapient life has reasons for behaving as it does,” Professor Faul says in that rusty wheeze. “But thus far my main theory is that they are insane.”

“There will be ample opportunity for you to ask them yourself,” I interject sharply. “Stay on-task please, Professor.”

“As the Presence demands.” Professor Faul begins writing a list of book names with one sharp finger. “The intervening history is written of extensively by the terrans, but in summation their early years were marked by strife over the perception of limited resources on their new home world, culminating in a thermonuclear war that decimated their culture. From the ashes of that conflict rose the original form of their current government, the Phoenix Council, which began the grueling project of uniting and caring for the disparate survivors. Access to knowledge from their original culture softened the technological blow of the devastation, and space colonization efforts followed. During this time period, the first terran psychics were confirmed, as we can see in the debates recorded in -”

I scrape my claws down the table, and the Professor stops. “The first?”

Professor Faul bobs his agreement. “The current state of nearly total saturation of psionic power was the result of deliberate cultural and religious cultivation of the power, coinciding with the rise of a sort of animistic faith that syncretized with many of their prior religions. The culmination of that being, of course, their faith in the so-called ‘Dwelling Gods’ that they believe exist in symbiosis with their own minds, whose worship has since become the dominant terran religion since its inception. Terrans credit these gods with providing the knowledge and insight needed to defeat the previous hivemind.”

“Why make such a covenant? What drives their...” I force the word ‘degeneracy’ down before my voices can give it life, “inclusive belief system?”

At this the Professor hesitates. One pointed finger idly traces at the corner of the display, leaving swirls and loops. “A combination of xenophobia and xenophilia, I believe,” he begins at last. “Terrans fear those who are not part of their family-groups or national identities, but they will readily absorb even inanimate objects into such groups or identities as long as they conform to a minimum amount of cultural touchstones. They do not seem to have any innate psychological fear of other species, the way gataxians do, and will readily bond even with animals they consider prey - up to and including those they intend to kill and eat themselves later.”

“Disgusting,” another of the convicts notes.

“Be silent in class,” I snap, before I return my attention to the Professor. “Will they keep their word?”

“Without a doubt,” he answers immediately. “Even at a disadvantage to themselves. To break a covenant is as unthinkable to a modern terran as...as it would be to imagine you, High Slayer, breeding with xenos. If you will forgive my crudity.”

Silence reigns in the dining hall, without even the beat of wings to disturb it.

“This time,” I answer, and everyone starts breathing again. “We will take a brief recess so that we can clear our minds,” I continue. “Professor, walk with me.”

“Will the Presence require an escort?” Tiall asks.

“The Presence is more than capable of defending herself,” I answer, perhaps more curtly than I ought to have. To his credit, my viceroy acquiesces with no further comment, smoothly moving to manage my other guests. Professor Faul falls in with me, and we move sedately towards one of the ship’s few lounges, which contains an equally rare resource: a damn window. Discreet texting on my comm device ensures that the lounge is emptied of my soldiers when the two of us finally arrive, many minutes later.

Just out the window, Gatax - my homeworld, and the heart of the Pure Peoples - turns slowly. We watch it wordlessly, the silence broken only by the wounded wheezing of my guest.

“You despise us still, High Slayer,” Professor Faul says at last. “Why did you call for us?”

I rest my freshly-maimed hand against the glass of the window and suck a deep breath in through my carapace. “There are many titles given to the head of the Gataxian Pure States, Professor. ‘High Slayer’ is the most venerated, yes, naming me as the greatest war-maker of a people who worship carnage, but I question its validity. I am no mere Slayer, to be fired at our enemies and forgotten. I am the Protector of the Pure, the Speaker of Many Tongues, the Eyes of the Wise. Our people are boxed in by this...Astra Federation, by powerful cultures who see us not as equals or even rivals but as an unruly attraction to be kept in our nation like an elaborate zoo. It becomes clear to me that we must change or die.”

Professor Faul gives me a curious look, his multifaceted eyes glittering in the reflected light from our shared homeworld.

“...Yes, Professor, I hate you. You and the others I have brought here. But if your knowledge could save even a single gataxian life, and I spurn it? Then the only titles I am worthy of are Traitor and Fool.”

Admiral Alekto Molteira, 9/14 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Approximately 2 months after sponsoring the Gataxian Pure States into the Astra Federation

“Marathon” Strategic Coordination Relay (Assisted Living System space), Solace system

The last of the aides filters into the secure meeting room, and We take a deep breath. Those gathered before Us represent the highest echelons of the Astra Federation’s navy; all of them are beings of long experience and solemn duty, just as We are, but even so what We bring before them today...well.

“We won’t waste your time,” We begin, the moment the doors close and the security systems engage. “Two months ago We engaged Doctor Alexandra Orlstasz, an archaeologist and one of Terra’s most skilled psychometrists, to assist the Admiralty in gathering intelligence on the hivemind. They died in the line of duty after attempting a direct read on one of the hivemind’s drones.”

“Gods Within,” Our closest neighbor - Admiral Agammemnon Eslirit - breathes. “What were they hoping to accomplish?”

“Hope? Admiral, the Doctor succeeded in giving us a broad but disjointed snapshot of the hivemind’s past and activities. What little we have been able to filter safely has been invaluable in anticipating its strategy and slowing its advance into gataxian space.” We take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Further translation of the impressions is underway as fast as can be safely accomplished, but one piece of information in particular is the cause for this meeting. We know the name and precise location of the hivemind’s home world, and therefore the epicenter of its controlled galactic space.”

“Well?” Admiral Villistiaiv, representing the Spirrans, prompts in the psionic voice that serves those fungal folk in lieu of vocal chords.

We’ve had all day to prepare for this moment, but We still barely get the words out.

“Earth,” We tell them. “In the Sol system.”

#dwelling gods #fiction #critique welcome #soft sci-fi #maiming #violence #suicide

5 notes · View notes