The first time he kissed her, it was a question. It asked "may I" and "is this alright" and "can I still have this."
Can you give back to me.
She should have known better than to answer "yes."
But first it was his lips and then she was in his lap and then he had her laid out on the couch laying kisses on each lonely inch-by-inch of skin that she hadn't let anyone touch for so long, that maybe she'd been saving for him, and his shirt was on the floor in a pile with her dress and then, and then, and then--
He wept in her arms that night in her bed while her fingers moved in slow, consoling circles over the scar on his shoulder too neat and to linear to be a gun shot. In the morning she sat up under the covers while he slept and watched the sun come up.
"If we're going to do this," she told him when he sat up beside her, "we should really do it."
He nodded for a while before his mouth seemed able to say "yeah."
He stayed for breakfast.
He made her lunch.
They went out together for dinner. Spaghetti. An off-menu special of a hole in the wall pizza parlor. Family style.
"Should we do like Lady and the Tramp?" She said.
"Nah," he answered. "That's a mess."
But he smiled imagining it.
***
It took her some time to realize that he was never going to kiss her in public, not because he didn't want to be seen, but for the same reason he couldn't have his back to the door in a restaurant, or sleep out of reach of his pistol.
She remembered daydreaming about a handsome soldier when she was young-- Maybe a marine. Someone with an iron will and a contained, controlled way of living his life that could rub off on her fucked up world and make everything sit right. But Frank was chaos. Frank was insomnia and nightmares and pacing in the living room clutching at his own scalp like maybe he could crack his skull open and take his bullet-pierced brain out and beat it into some kind of submission. He could never sit still, whether it was the twitch in his trigger finger or the movement of his eyes in his head that took everything with it, little twitches of his nose and jerks of his chin. He tapped his foot while he sat in chairs if he didn't ebb in them, a little foreward, a little back, like the tide approaching and then re-thinking the shore. In his sleep he ground his teeth so hard his jaw locked and muffled the sounds of the nightmares.
It took her some time before she had to accept it was getting worse.
***
When Frank got more volatile, Karen told him to call Curtis. He said, "he's not the one. "
"What does that mean, Frank? The one to what?"
"Keeping me down."
"I keep you down?"
"To Earth, yeah. To something, to something real. I can't--"
She wrapped her arms around him but she said it again:
"Talk to Curtis."
Frank stopped going to group.
***
Around the time he started living like he was still in boot camp, up at four in the morning to run until dawn, sweating rivers into her living room thanks to a pull up bar mounted in place of the bedroom door, he got the tattoo. It was a relief, in a way.
It suggested he was holding on to something more than just her.
***
She'd never met "Micro" but she had her suspicions when he knocked on her door. It was the shifty-eyed way he said "uhh, is he here?" Like Frank was still a secret not to be caught talking about and not a pardoned man. Like how a person would talk about buying or selling a weapon.
"What do you want?" She asked past the door chain.
"I found something. I think it might give some closure."
"Found what?"
"A list of buyers. He, uh, seems like he almost got them all."
"Almost?"
"There's a family, a powerful family, that might have trafficked some of Blacksmith's product...can we not talk about this in the hallway?"
Karen said:
"I don't think we should talk about this at all."
Karen said:
"It's done."
Two weeks later Frank was out the door by 3 am, ready to run. His ribs had started to show.
Karen called David Lieberman.
***
The night Frank turned his pistol on himself--just for an instant--was the night she told him. She said:
"Frank, don't do this. You're not done."
"I think I gotta be--"
"I can't let you be done."
He needed something to hold onto that was stronger than her.
***
One morning she woke up and he wasn't there, as usual, but there was a box in bed beside her with a ring inside it, sitting atop a velvet insert that seemed to be swelling out of its container. Underneath was the note, the money: be safe, it said, and a phone number.
The first Gnocci died the next day.
Karen put the ring on a chain.
When he can come back, she told herself. When he can be done. Then I'll put it on.
My main gift for @raflesia65 from the @aromanceforthedragonages exchange. Trevelyan/Cullen, late-game but vague on specifics.
---
Normally, the Skyhold training grounds were a bustle of activity. Everyone from long-term soldiers to fresh recruits needed practice to keep their skills sharp, after all.
Then there was Cullen's fondness for drills, and Bull's Chargers made use of them sometimes, and the archery range was near-constantly in use by Harding's scouts... So it was a bit of a shock when Diana came 'round the corner to find it nearly empty. A few of the diehards were there; a couple squad leaders, Cassandra, Cullen.
It was the last of these that made a smile pull the corners of her mouth. "No drills today, Commander?"
Cullen laughed and as she drew closer Diana could see a faint sheen of sweat on his skin and lightly dampening his collar. "I need it to dry out a bit more from the week's rain before I want so many feet churning the ground. It would be a shame to injure our forces in training."
"Fair." Diana leaned against the fence. "Much as it would be good for them to be competent in all terrains, you have a point."
"Oh, we've done mud field drlls," Cullen said, joining her at the fence. "I've been thorough, Inquisitor."
She leaned in, letting her hand brush his arm. "Oh, I'm well aware how thorough you are," she murmured, quiet enough to keep it between them.
He still went pink at the ears and gave a bashful scoffing laugh before changing the subject. "Did you come to practice yourself?"
"Mm." The training leathers were lighter than her usual armor, the wooden sword a replica of her blade. The three days' rain had made her antsy, and this was always a good way to burn energy. "But if you're worried about your training grounds..."
Cullen shook his head and gestured toward Cassandra, who was just finishing. "Individual fighters aren't a problem, it's a whole crowd of green recruits who don't know how to keep their footing that concerns me. The last time ended with three black eyes, a broken nose, and a dislocated shoulder."
"Oh, dear. I see the reason for your caution." She ducked through the fence. "I'll do my best not to sustain any such injury."
"It would be most undignified with some of the social engagements on the horizon," Cullen teased lightly. He reach over to smooth a curl that had escaped her bun and his hand lingered on her cheek. "Imagine arriving with a black eye."
"Josephine would have a conniption," Diana agreed. "Hopefully the training dummies don't prove too wily an opponent."
"Would you... like a partner?"
She looked him up and down. "If you think you're up to it. If you've already done your share for the day, I'd hate to push you too far."
Cullen shook his head. "I always stand ready to assist you, Diana," he said softly.
She smiled at the way he said her name, but, "Cullen, that's not what I asked."
"Yes, it is," he countered, the fence creaking as he shifted his weight. "You said if I think I'm up to it, and I do. I hadn't done that much before you arrived," he added. "I promise, I'm not pushing myself too hard."
"Alright." To drag her feet more would be to call him a liar, and this would be more enjoyable with a partner. Particularly him. "Then thank you, that would be most welcome."
He smiled and pushed away from the fence, moving to retrieve a training blade of his own.
The mud squelched under her boots and Diana understood his reluctance to have large numbers of feet making it worse. Keeping their balance would add an extra layer of challenge to a duel. Just what she needed after so long stuck inside.
Cullen took position across from her, sword and shield in hand, stance ready but loose. His blade was one of the generic training swords they stocked for drills, she noted, and wondered if that signaled less familiarity or more adaptability. She'd find out.
"First move is yours, Inquisitor," he said, almost playful, waiting her out.
Diana had too pent-up energy to do anything but take him up on the offer. She lunged forward, feinting left with a last second redirect to the right. "Aside from the delayed drills, how has your day been?"
Cullen deflected her strike but stumbled slightly from how the blade caught the edge of his shield. "Well enough. I used the time to finish some reports, look over patrol routes and the like. With so many days of no drills" --he made a strike she likewise blocked-- "I wanted to see the state of the training rings, and get some exercise while I was at it. So it wasn't a total loss--"
"When you decided you need to wait a little longer for mass drills," Diana finished for him, spinning the practice blade in another swing. The one caught his arm just above the shield and he grunted approval. "You're a man of action" --another swing, this one sidestepped--"I imagine being cooped up wasn't much easier on you than me."
"The company was enjoyable, at least." Cullen gave ground while she pressed her advantage.
"Really?" Diana laughed. Her next two strikes hit his shield, but at least she kept him on the defensive. "With all of Dorian's chess-related scheming, and Sera bored enough for extra devious pranks--"
Cullen lunged forward, his shield crashing against hers. "They are not the company to which I was referring."
She snorted, blushed, and sidestepped the pressure of his shield. "I suspected as much."
He pivoted, skidding in the mud, and barely managed to block her next attack. Swung at her ribs, left vulnerable by the strike.
Oh, damn-- Diana wrenched sideways, avoiding Cullen's blade but unbalancing herself in the process. She yelped as she slid to one knee--surprise more than pain--and quickly pushed back to her feet with mud dripping off her shield and caked on her boots.
"I'm alright," she preemptively assured Cullen, who had backed off rather than press the attack as she'd anticipated.
"Good." He brought his shield back up and re-engaged. "What of you?"
"What of me, what?" She parried a strike, backed him toward the fence.
"How has your day been thus far?" He dodged her attempt to corner him, briefly skidded to one knee, but regained his footing before she could take advantage.
"No complaints, aside from waking up alone," Diana said lightly, giving him a significant look.
Cullen grimaced, face pink from more than exertion. "Apologies. I woke early and wanted to let you sleep. I know you work hard--"
"Headache?" she cut him off, sword clashing on his shield. He didn't answer, which was an answer. It was an easy guess; there had been several of those recently. "I told you to wake me for those, so I can help."
"Nothing helps." He shook his head. "The distraction of working makes it easier to power through" --pushed her back, swung his shield to bash against hers-- "until it fades."
"Cullen--" she spun away from the shield bash, almost fell again.
"It wasn't a bad one, Diana," he said softly, pressing in close as their swords locked. "Just... enough to disrupt sleep. Getting back to your day...?"
She finally freed herself from the deadlock, twisting and pushing with her sword so he was forced to step back to keep the blade in hand. I still want to help with those, you stubborn- "Josephine had things to review for a couple of noble contracts. That took.. a good bit of time."
"Ah, no wonder you're out here now," Cullen chuckled and Diana pulled a face as she dodged the accompanying strike.
It hadn't been that bad. Just a lot of sitting... that... alright, had compounded her existing restlessness. Which was, in part, why she was here.
They went a few more attacks and blocks before Cullen's boot skidded and he landed flat on his back in the mud. Diana leveled the point of her sword at his throat, and he didn't even try.
"I yield," he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before letting them flop back in the mud. She lowered her blade and offered him a hand up. Between the angle and the slippery naure of the ground, however, this resulted in pulling her down rather than him up.
An undignified, face-first splash into the mud was not the ending she'd envisioned for this duel. Not the least because they'd accrued a small audience, but it was what it was. Diana pushed up to sit back on her calves as Cullen levered himself upright. They looked at the mud covering them, then at each other, and burst out laughing simultaneously. Cullen' laugh was a rare thing, if less so now, and Diana treasured every time she got to hear it.
"Well," she said wryly, "I supposed the mud is the true victor here."
"Heh." Cullen shook mud off his arm and gingerly made it to his feet. "I concur." He helped her to her stand, both keeping their footing this time.
"We should probably clean up," Diana sighed. "I don't think Leliana or Josephine would appreciate us arriving at the council meeting like this." A glob of mud fell off her chin to plop on her boot as if in emphasis.
"Of course, I'll see you there." Cullen started to turn away, head for his office.
Diana stopped him with a hand on his arm. "There's more room for a bath in my quarters, which is what I think we both need at this point. I had one of the staff start preparations when I headed out here, figuring I would work up enough of a sweat to need it." She leaned in close so only he could hear, "I don't mind sharing it with you, and I only have one door to worry about locking."
His face colored at her smirk. "Diana..."
"And I think you have at least one clean set of clothes in there, too, yes?"
"I do, but..." His gaze darted to their audience.
Diana followed the look and chuckled. "I think it's fairly common knowledge, whether we've been obvious about it or not. Nothing worth hiding now."
"True enough." Cullen wiped down and stowed the training weapons, gave her a small smile. "After you, Inquisitor."
She laughed at his playing along and ducked out through the fence, leading the way up to her quarters.
---
The lightly scented steam from the bathwater had permeated the air by the time they arrived, and one deep breath had Diana relaxing.
Door locked, stairs ascended, she started stripping of the mud-stained training leathers. Said mud had started to dry in spots, so she was careful to stand in one place--and an easily cleaned one at that--while removing them.
Halfway through, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Cullen. "You don't have to wait for me to be done, love." The leathers were carefully piled for cleaning, and she started tugging off her shirt. It was nothing Cullen hadn't seen before. Many times. She used the shirt to wipe most of the mud off her face and hands as she removed it. "You can go first in the bath."
"What?" Cullen paused with his shirt halfway off. "It was meant for you."
"And I'm sharing it. I'm generous that way." Diana dropped the shirt with her leathers before leaning in to steal a kiss. "Most of the mud on me is in places easily cleaned with a washbasin and towel. You, beloved, have it all up your back and in your hair" --she tugged the belt free of his trousers-- "it makes much more sense for you to use it."
Also, she suspected he rarely indulged in such creature comforts for himself. So if she could spoil him a little, well, that was a bonus.
Cullen gave her a skeptical look and thumbed a bit of mud caked at her hairline. "I don't wish to deprive you of something you were looking forward to, Diana."
She finished sliding his shirt down his arms, since he'd apparently forgotten about undressing, and murmured, "Trust me, I'm not feeling the least bit deprived," against the corner of his mouth as she plopped his shirt with hers on the pile.
Cullen blushed but exhaled in a way that said he was more than happy to play along. "Well, in that case..." He stepped back so they both could remove trousers and boots.
There was an intimacy to this, stripped to their smalls and comfortable with the vulnerability. It was different than when they made love, but Diana found she enjoyed it just as much. She let her gaze roam Cullen's torso; the scars, muscles, light dusting of blond hair. The freckle just about his hip she used as a guide to... sensitive spots.
"Diana?" Cullen prompted when she lingered too long. "Something wrong?"
"Quite the opposite." She shook her head. "I never get tired of seeing you."
He leaned in, thumb skimming her jawline to tip it up for a kiss. "I could say the same."
Diana indulged for a moment before pulling back. "The bath's getting cold," she murmured.
"Maybe I don't care about the bath," he returned, tugging her close again and kissing along her jaw.
"Maybe, but if we get mud on my bedsheets, the staff might revolt. Bath first" --kissed him deeply-- "other activities if we have time before the meeting."
"I wouldn't have offered," she said, patting his cheek. "Go ahead."
With the reassurance, he finished stripping and sank into the tub. From the groan of contentment that escaped him, her sacrifice was a worthwhile one.
"Good?" Diana chuckled.
"Mmm." Cullen sank lower into the heated water.
She dragged over a stool and perched behind him to help wash the mud out of his hair.
He sighed deeply, leaning into her touch even as he mumbled, "You don't have to do that..."
"I know." She leaned foward to kiss his forehead." "I want to. Just enjoy it."
"On your order, Inquisitor," he said drowsily, leaning even more into the way her fingers massaged his scalp. "mmm, headahe's gone..."
"Good," Diana whispered in his ear and didn't stop even when his hair was clean, extending the strokes to his temples.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were quiet breathing and the gentle lap of the water against the sides of the tub.
Then Cullen shifted, catching her wrist and tugging her hand forward to kiss the palm. "Thank you, Diana."
"Of course." She brushed a kiss to his temple. "You deserve to be taken care of, Cullen."
"From time to time?" he clarified wryly.
"Whenever I get the opportunity, love," she said softly. "You do it for me so consistently and in so many different ways. I relish the chance to return the favor."
"Much as I appreciate it" --he kissed her hand again and reluctantly sat up-- "we should probably finish up. The meeting..."
Diana nodded and sighed as she stood to retrieve a towel for him. They could find time for leisure activities after the meeting. If it wasn't such an important planning session, she would say forget it and drag him to bed right now, but alas. With the way things were ramping up... the saying might be no rest for the wicked, but the righteous didn't seem to be getting much of a break, either.
While Cullen dried and dressed, she cleaned the sweat off herself using the washbasin. She had to refill it twice, and was finally getting to the mud she knew lingered on her face when he reappeared in her peripheral. Clean and dry and clad in a dark red shirt and brown pants.
"Allow me to return your generosity, love," he said, holding out a hand for the cloth she was just dipping in the basin. "I can see your face better than you can."
He had a point; even with a mirror this would be easier done by someone else. And she liked the thought of getting to stare at him while he helped. So she nodded, wrung out the cloth, and handed it over.
Cullen leaned close, carefully cleaning along her jaw and neck, behind her ears, the edges of her hairline. Gooseflesh prickled on Diana's arms, and she was fairly certain it wasn't due to cool breezes on bare, damp skin. But she held still and didn't make any comments as he worked.
"There," Cullen said, kissing her forehead and tucking back a stray brown curl.
Diana bit back pointing out she would have to redo her hair anyway. "Thank you, Cullen."
"Of course," he echoed her earlier reply.
She pulled a shaky breath as she stared into those warm brown eyes. She could think of many things she want to do with him right now. None of them involved the damned meeting.
But the Inquisitor's work was never done. So instead she thanked him again, dressed and fixed her hair. Cullen helped with pinning up her braid.
"I don't really want to go to this meeting," he confessed, breath tickling the back of her neck as he slid the last hairpin home.
Diana bit her lip and turned. "Neither do I," she admitted, fingers curling in his shirt. "For, I suspect, the same reason."
He pulled her in for a searing kiss, both getting so lost in it they didn't realize they were moving until his shoulders hit a wall.
"Unfortunately," Diana managed, breathing hard, "Leliana and Joesphine will never, ever, let us hear the end of it if we skip for that."
"Never mind Cassandra," Cullen added wryly.
"So." She snaked a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Deep and sweet like honey, still the smallest tinge of salt from sweat. "After?"
Cullen chuckled and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Inquisitor, I like the way you think."
Endrali couldn't remember the last time she'd been sick. Truly sick, really sick, the kind you couldn't power through.
Jedi had strong constitutions and ways to nullify disease, and her strong connection to the Force made her even more adept at avoiding 'mundane' illness. Which may have been why it took so long to click.
She thought she was tired from long days with little chance for rest or meditation. Thought the dizziness was from inadvertantly skipping a meal or two. She could remedy both of those after this meeting. While the uptick of discontent had slowed after the events of Umbara, they still popped up. People always wanted to test the powerful, it seemed. What Arcann and Senya learned on Hoth might be important. She needed to pay attention--
"Commander?" Senya's brow was furrowed in concern.
"Sorry." Endrali cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes. "Mind wandered a little."
Now Arcann was looking at her with an expression duplicating his mother's. "Are you alright?"
"Just a little tired, I think," she replied, reaching over to squeeze the edge of his hand. "After we're done and I talk to Lana real quick, I'll take a nap. Promise. What were you saying about the lavaworks?"
The knot in his brow didn't ease, bu Senya accepted the reassurance, speaking of the information saved from the computers, shipment logs for the production, leads to other malcontents.
Brief as the report was, Endrali still struggled to concentrate on it. She was so tired it was making her head feel heavy. Overdid it worse than I thought... she mused, running her hands through her hair as she mulled over the new information. It was sluggish, like that syrup one of the other Padawans had like on his flatcake; thick and reluctant and why was she thinking about that now?
"Alright... if you two want to follow up on these now, you can," she said. She shook her head slightly. "Or if you want to split, take others, I'm sure someone around would help."
Senya nodded, though there was still an edge of concern to her sense. "I'll take care of it, Commander. You... look like you could use that nap."
Endrali sat straighter as she nodded. "After I talk to Lana, I will."
"Endrali..." Arcann lingered, hesitated as his mother left the room. "Are you certain you're alright?"
Another nod, making her head feel sloshy and sluggish again. "Yeah. Just overworked. Promise I'll rest after I talk to Lana." She went to squeeze his hand again, but he twisted so he was holding hers instead.
"You are... quite warm, compared to normal," he informed her, thumb rubbing the heel of her hand.
Part of her smirked at him knowing her baseline temperature, the rest was more interested in protesting the implication. "No, just tired. I'll... I'll be better after rest. I'll talk to Lana and then rest."
"Perhaps resting should come first," Arcann said.
"No, it's fine. It's just talking, Arcann, shouldn't even be a long conversation. I've got this," Endrali insisted. She pushed to her feet.
And the world tipped so sharply, diagonally sideways she would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.
"I think rest should be the priority," Arcann said firmly. One arm went around her shoulder and the other slid behind her knees to scoop her up and settle her against his chest.
The instinctive protest she wasn't a baby died before she voiced it. She was tired, her head was muzzy, and it was nice being cradled like this, she had to admit.
They didn't exchange a word as Arcann carried her to her quarters, even thought Endrali was technically awake. It felt like too much effort for her, and for him... well, she could tell he was worried even without him saying anything.
He set her carefully on the bed--ignoring Opi's protest at being dislodged--and reached to slip off her boots.
Endrali batted his hand away. "I'm tired, not an invalid." She offered a smile that didn't seem to do much allieviating his worry. "I can handle it. Go get some rest or food or whatever. Maybe we can spend some time together after I nap."
Arcann nodded, not looking a smidgeon less concerned, and watched her kick off the boots. "Perhaps we can. Do you... Should I have one of the med techs come check you, just in case?"
If he was worried enough to ask, he wanted the answer to be yes. But that seemed like an ovveraction to her just being a little tired. But she hated how worried he looked...
Endrali sighed and flipped up the covers, snuggling in to her pillow. "If it makes you feel better..." she said, trailing off as Opi curled up next to her with a deep rumbling purr.
Arcann nodded, hesitated, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. The gesture made her all warm inside, but she picked up the fresh pulse of concern to his sense.
"Still warm?" Endrali mumbled.
She was asleep before she heard the answer.
---
When she woke she didn't feel nearly as refreshed as she expected, her head may well have weighed a hundred pounds, and the shadows had shifted to a degree that made her think that nap had wound up longer than intended. The blankets were stifling, she pushed them down--
--and immediately shivered so hard she curled in on herself. Okay, bad idea. Blanket back up.
That was when the other presence in the room registered. "Have you been there the whole time?"
"More or less," Arcann said, leaning forward in his chair to brace elbows on knees. "I spoke to the medical staff and they said to let you sleep and comm when you woke."
"So you just stayed?" There was a croaking edge to her voice she didn't like. Maybe he was right; this was more than exhaustion.
"I have no pressing demands on my time, Endrali," he pointed out. "And... I cannot help but worry."
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," she insisted. "...even if it is more than just exhaustion."
Arcann's brow twitched at her conceding even that much. "I suppose we can find out soon enough."
Endrali didn't have the energy to argue, and her bed was so very comfortable. "Mm."
It only took a few minutes for one of the medstaff to arrive, whether they'd been waiting to the summons or this was a perk of being in charge Endrali was too cotton-brained to wonder. All she cared about was the rangy orange-skinned twi'lek had a decent beside manner without being too chatty and seemed to know wht she was doing.
"Csillan fever," was the diagnosis, somewhat easily obtained between tallying symtpoms and the diagnostic scanner. Far from life-threatening, but a sure way to spend a few days laid up. The only unique thing about this strain, compared to other similar variants, was that being native to Csilla meant it only affected Chiss.
"Where did I pick that up?"!" Endrali croaked, now sitting up with knees tented and Kyber wedged in her lap. "I haven't set foot near Chiss space since I was four, let alone on Csilla." Never mind she didn't know which planet her family had lived on before giving her up--she might never have set foot on Csilla. "When would--" she cut herself off, looking at Arcann. "The defectors."
She saw and sensed the pieces click in his mind. "The only reasonable assumption, I think."
"You think you know the point of contact?" the medtech asked, fiddling with the scanner.
Endrali nodded, which was a bad idea. It made her headd swim. Euch. "A few days, maybe a week ago, we helped some Chiss Imperial defectors move through Coreward space undetected. A couple of them seemed... under the weather, but I marked it up to stress from what they were doing."
"That timeline would match the incubation period," the medtech said, nodding. "Are any of them stil on-base?"
Endrali shook her head--also a bad idea. "I was just helping them move along; the whole reason for defecting was not wanting to fight anymore. They never set foot on Odessen."
"So you're the only one I need to worry aout." It was murmured almost half to herself but Endrali hummed confirmation anyway. "That'll simplify it. Rest in bed, drink plenty and eat if you feel hungry, and there's medication I can send that will help lessen symptoms and generally speed up recovery."
"I like the sound of that," Endrali croaked.
"I'll get that right up," the medtech promised with a sympathetic smile. "Feel better soon, Commander."
"Thank you." it came out more pathetic thn intended, and embarrassment, not illness, heated her face.
The medtech nodded, slipped the scanner back on its belt hook, and left the room.
"See, I told you it wasn't bad," Endrali said, flopping back on the pillow. Kyber croaked protest and butted under her hand. She sluggishly scratched his ear nubs.
"Endrali, it hardly sounds good that you will be ill several days," Arcann said dryly. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed.
"It's not gonna kill me or anything, though," she said, then narrowed her eyes at him. "What are my odds of getting you to stop fussing and go about your business?"
"Extremely low," he replied. "They would be regardless, but knowing you aren't contagious... I have no 'business' beyond doing as you need."
"And if I said I need you to run down one of those leads you and Senya found at the lavaworks more than I need you sitting here to fuss over me?" (though the fussing was nice, she did have to admit.)
Arcann gave her a frustrated look. "Endrali."
"Arcann." She squeezed his hand. "I'm not dying, I'll just be miserable and pouty and prob'ly sleep a lot the next few days. Don't really need a nursemaid for that." Her thumb rubbed the edge of his hand. "I'm down an advisor and there's lots of people who think the galaxy would be better off without the Alliance. It would mean more to me if you help protect it while I can't."
She felt the 'That's not fair' he bit back before giving a deep sigh. "If that is truly what you wish."
"I like your company, it isn't that," she promised. "And I'm glad I can't get you sick. There's just... so much to do, and it's worse with Theron gone, and of course now would be the first time in fiftee-- twenty years I get sick sick--" Her voice wobbled and gave out, which made her sound even more pathetic when she croaked, "I hate not being able to do anything."
Arcann smiled sympathetically and brushed sweat-damp hair from her face. "I'll take care of it."
Endrali squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
He held her hand a moment longer, his thumb rubbing gloriously cool arcs against her skin. "I hope you will be on the road to recovery upon my return."
"Yeah, me too," Endrali mumbled hoarsely, and was drifting to sleep again before he left to room. She would have liked to tell him to be safe.
---
She woke to the sunrise, which was wildly disconcerting to her fevered brain.
Sitting up felt like fighting through tar or slow-setting carbonite or something, but she still did it to look around the room. Opila and Kyber were sleeping on the foot of the bed, there was a squat, square bottle of orangey-green liquid on the nightstand that hadn't been there before--the medicine, she assumed--and a familiar presence radiated from just outside the bedroom.
"Senya?" She was very proud her voice didn't sound half bad.
The woman unfolded herself from her meditative pose and smiled as she entered. "Good to see you truly awake."
Endrali arched her brows. "Truly?"
"You roused enough to drink something a couple times during the evening, but didn't even seem to register I was here."
She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry if I was rude."
Senya shook her head. "Just tired."
"Mm." Se stared at her knees a moment, her thoughts fascinated by the weave of the blanket, then forced it back up. "Did Arcann ask you to sit with me?"
Senya nodded.
"When did he leave?"
"Perhaps an hour or two after you fell asleep. Were you hungry, Commander?" Senya tapped the top of a thermal retention canister. "The kitchens sent up soup, if you'd like some."
She was a bit hungry, in the vague, distant sense of the word. But that could wait; her brain was stuck on a different concern right now.
"Senya? If you're watching me, who's watching his back?"
"Your Trandoshan friend, I believe." Senya smiled. "Qyzen? He said something about protecting the Herald's mate that Arcann was too distracted to catch."
But not you. Endrali wished she could blame the heat of her face on the fever, but was pretty sure this had a different cause. Awfully unfair of the galaxy to throw this at her while she was sick. "Well, distracted's not good," she muttered, trying to make her brain work between illness and embarrassment. "Distracted could get one of them hurt."
"I'm sure they'll be fine, Commander," Senya said reassuringly. "And that he'll be more focused by the time they reach Coruscant."
Coruscant. So that was Captain Kallin, the disillusioned Republic soldier, angry at the Alliance for... reasons she couldn't remember. Not with her head all full of cotton. She eyed the medicine. Maybe a good idea... "I hope so; the Works are a nightmare when you're paying attention, and a deathtrap if you aren't." Qyzen knew what he was doing, even if Arcann was distracted, but that was small comfort. Nothing to be done from here, though. "Do you know what kind of soup....?"
Senya laughed and unscrewed the canister lid. "Something with noodles and not a lot of seasoning. It does smell good, though."
After a small bowl of soup and dose of medicine--which tasted citrus-y but fake--Endrali burrowed back down in the blankets to sleep more. Hopefully she could knock this down quick; she hated not doing her job.
---
Sunset was teasing the sky when next she stirred and found Opi sleeping on top of her. No wonder I'm so hot. She rolled over gently, trying to dislodge the loth-kitten without being rude about it, and looked for Senya. She could sense her--meditating, out on the balcony, and no one else in the room.
That woke her up a bit, and she reached further through the Force, feeling for a pair of presences she knew almost better than her own. She came up empty.
Frowning now, Endrali sat up, feeling briefly guilty about Opi's mroaw of protest at being unseated. "Senya?"
"Yes, Commander?" the words slightly preceded the woman.
"Are they back?"
Senya shook her head. "I haven't heard as much."
"Shouldn't they be? Do you think something went--"
Senya put a hand on her shoulder. "Endrali, it's only a couple hours past best estimate for their time. Even a small complication could add this much. Both my son and your friend are skilled fighters, give it more time before worrying."
Normally that would be much more easily followed advice, but something about being sick was making her anxious. She didn't voice it, just sat picking at the covers and reaching to sense Arcann or Qyzen through the Force. Her concentration was off with being sick, and it was hard to hunt down specific people--especially off-planet--when her head felt three times its normal weight.
She flopped back with a discontented huff and stared at the ceiling, mentally grumbling again about the timing of getting sick. But there wasn't anything she could do, and Senya was right; it hadn't been that long. She should trust them to handle whatever was going on.
---
Endrali dozed fitfully after that, never fully able to drift off but never awake enough to be cognizant of the time. Not until Senya nudged her to eat some more. The soup was still warm, and stars just beginning to sprinkle the edge of the horizon.
"They are returning," Senya said, before she could ask. "Arcann wanted to know how you were doing. They both expressed intent to check on you upon return."
That was... touchng. And promising. They were both alive, and on their way back. Between the update, the soup, and having already done an absurd amount of sleeping, Endrali shifted the pillows to support sitting up and reached for her datapad.
"Not working," she said, sensing a flicker of protest from Senya. "I was only half-done that archaelogical treatise Talos sent me. I wanna finish it."
That earned her a skeptical look.
"This is one of my hobbies," Endrali promised. "Flowers and old things are what I do for fun." And collect lightsaber crystals. "I'm just reading. Did you hear how the mission went?"
Senya hesitated a beat too long answering. "There... were complications, but they're both fine and succeeded in stopping the rogue captain. And like I said, they plan to see you when they return."
"Right, right, I know." Endrali fidgeted with the datapad, only half reading the treatise now that the word 'complications' was in her head. Hurry back, you two."
---
Qyzen made it up to her room first, and it was immediately apparent 'complications' was underselling whatever happened, because he was missing a hand.
Endrali tossed aside the datapad and practically launched herself out of bed, fever or no. "Qyzen--!"
He held up his remaining hand to stop her. [Will regrow, Herald,] he reminded, and that settled her, at least for the moment. Their converation about his hunt in the Kashyyyk Shadowlands was so long ago, she had half-forgotten. [Maybe slow, as am old now,] he amended, examining the stump of his wrist, [but will be well in time.]
""Good." Endrali couldn't help a pang of guilt as she followed his gaze. "How bad was it, for you to lose a hand?!"
Qyzen gave her a measuring look with his good eye, the ones that made her believe he was wiser than he thought himself to be. [Mate Arcann is well] he said, answering the implied question rather than what she'd asked. [Made certain of that.]
The implication of the second half distracted her from clarifying protest about the word at the beginning of the first.
"Made certain," she repeated. "Qyzen, did that" --a nod to his wrist-- "happen protecting Arcann?"
[This from cthon] Qyzen said [large, fierce prey, worth many points. Would have fought anyway.]
So that's a yes. Endrali shifted, pulling her legs up crisscross underneath her. "Well, thank you. For keeping him safe."
[Is owed to Herald.] Qyzen said with a nod. [And not hard; Mate Arcann is mighty warrior, earned many points. See now why you chose.]
Alright, two times, pluse Senya's earlier mentioning of a comment, needed correcting. "Qyzen, he's not my mate. Not in the way you mean it." Super unfair of the universe to make her have this conversation while sick.
Qyzen cocked his head and waited.
Endrali sighed, chewing her lower lip in thought. "He is special to me, and I care about him, deeply, so I appreciate you watching his back as you do mine. But we're...." Another sigh. "Many cultures have a period, whether they call courting or something else, where you find someone special, someone who could be a good mate, and spend time getting closer with them. To be sure the two of you are a good match before you bond." She was making a mess of this, but it wasn't as if the Jedi Order had been big on relationshp advice.
Qyzen was quiet, waiting for her to continue.
Really unfair. "Even though I care about" --love-- "him a lot, we aren't quite that far yet. So, for now, he's just Arcann." She flashed Qyzen a smile. "But he means a lot to me, so, again, thank you for helping him."
[Is great honor, Herald.] Qyzen nodded. [Happy to help.] He paused. [Will let you rest, look pale.]
Endrali wrinkled her nose. Ugh. "Thanks. I'm glad you're alright. Mostly." A last glance at where his hand should be. Won't be sending him out again 'til that heals.
Qyzen bowed and left.
Arcann entered so closely after they must've passed each other in the hall.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked before the door hd fully losed.
"Maybe a little? I still feel... bleh" --she pulled a face--"but given how much I slept today at least I'm not tired."
"That is good to hear." Arcann strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Your mother took good care of me, and I hear Qyzen took good care of you," Endrali said lightly, though this close she could see the scrapes on his unscarred cheek and further bck, and the hint of medseal peeking out his sleeve.
He nodded. "Yes. He was... quite adamant. He's a fine warrior, your friend."
"Heh, he said the same about you."
A smile twitched his lips. "I'm honored by such praise."
"So what happened, that it took so long and you both got injured?" She had to ask.
"Captain Kallin knew how to use the Works to his advantage and had found... many who agreed with him," Arcann said slowly, parsing his words. "And augmented those forces with droids and tamed beasts."
"Cthon, yes. There's been a bit of an infestation down in the Works for decades," Endrali sai. She pursed her lips. "They're feral, usually, but training them would be smart, even if just enough to attack certain people..."
"I believe that is what he did; the cthons didn't seem to follow any commands beyond attacking us and not his people. The captain... slipped away while we were fighting the biggest of the beasts and we had to pursue him further." Arcan paused, rubbed the back of his neck. "Quite the ferocious warrior in his own right, once cornered."
"People with causes usually are. But you still vanquished him," Endrali said with a smile. She shivered at a breeze and worked her way partially back under the covers.
"We did." Arcann helped her with the blanket. He let his fingers very deliberately brush her forehead as he tucked her hair back. "You, however, still seem to be in the throes of battle with your fever."
"It'll pass," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly and pressing her fingers to the lids. "I'm resting and I'm taking my medicine, and I just... I hate being sick, Arcann. It hasn't happened this seriously in a long, long time. I don't like not being able to help, especially while others are out there getting hurt doing my--"
"You do more than enough," Arcann cut her off, gently. He cradled her jaw, tipped her chin up so she'd look at him. "Let us help."
Let me help.
Endrali sighed, subconsciously leaning into his touch. He was so cool, it felt so good. She was honestly (embarrassingly) tempted to grab his cybernetic hand and hold it to her forehead; she'd bet that would feel even better. "The Alliance is my responsibility." And stars knew how this fever was nothing compared to the crushing weight of the shielded masters.
"Leading it is." Arcann's thumb stroked her cheek. "But I would say protecting it is the duty of all who join."
She wrinkled her nose. "My brain's not working well 'nough to argue," she grumbled. "Much as I want to."
He chuckled, leaning closer to whisper, "Does this mean I win?"
"For now," she conceded, the shift making her fixate on how close they were sitting. How easy it would be to steal a kiss, even though she shouldn't. But she wanted to.
"Endrali..." Arcann murmured, and her gaze locked with his in silent prompting. "Could... I want..." His thumb grazed the edge of her lower lip, hinting at his intent.
Good to know they were on the same wavelength. "We shouldn't, I'm sick."
"I cannot catch it." He leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching.
"I'll taste like fakey citrus medicine," she warned, even as she tilted her chin up. If he was sure of taking the chance, he was going to know all the risks first.
"I believe I can endure," Arcann said with soft amusement, a rough edge creeping in to his voice.
But they were denied the opportunity to test that. The door slid open, the medtech stepping in. Fortunately her attention was on her datapad as she entered, giving them a moment to pull apart before she asked, "How're you feeling, Comm--" She winced, skin going darker orange. "Sorry! I didn't realize you had, um, company."
"It's alright." Arcann stood, "I should let her rest."
Endrali wanted to scream at the unfairness of the interruption's timing, but he was probably right. And the lethargy response to all her company hit as the medtech was checking her over, so she snuggled down in the bed.
She still wished she'd gotten that kiss before he left. So unfair.
One more thing to hate about being sick.
--
the stuff with Qyzen is from his conversations during class story; if you say he's lucky he didn't lose an arm/leg on the Shadowlands hunt, he says Trandoshan limbs grow back. Real fun implication there. AND he says it's rare for Trandoshans to make it past fifty, and he's 32 or 33 in Act 2 of the class story so it's been at least... 8 or 9 years since then.
Taking advantage of ~time zones~ to post this technically-still-Sunday bc it's Monday somewhere by now. :3
Trinne(mine)/Harvey(errantgoat)
---
This visit to Castle Cousland was stretching long enough for Trinne to familiarize herself with the hallways. (when she stopped sulking in the bedroom, anyway) Enough she didn't fully pay attention when she walked around, getting lost in thought and humming under her breath. Following instinct and impulse to the kitchens, or up on the walls, or-
She paused as she passed the library, a blur of dark hair catching her attention. Harvey was sitting on the short sofa by the fireplace reading a letter.
Half of the emotions rising in her chest at the sight of him were brand and shiny new. Trinne smiled and bit her lip and altered course. It wasn't like she'd been heading anywhere in particular. And while it wasn't a rarity, it wasn't exactly common to find him here. Might as well take advantage.
She crossed the room to sit on the arm of the sofa--" 'Zat from your brother?"--and kissed his temple.
Harvey started; must've been a really engrossing letter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd snuck up on him. (Had she ever?) "What was that for?"
"'Cause I felt like it." she shrugged. His expression was adorable. Not quite perplexed, but she'd definitely caught him off-guard. "I'm good at that."
"Yes, I know," Harvey deadpanned.
Trinne snickered at his tone, but he really did know and had fallen in love with her anyway. That was enough of a miracle she leaned over--precariously balanced--to kiss him proper.
"And again," she teased, hauling herself back upright with some effort, which she tried to disguise.
He'd folded the letter and tucked it between the sofa cushion and arm when she pulled back. "Bored today?"
"Nah, just wanted to stretch my legs. I've been readin' for hours, time for a break. How're the woods?"
Harvey huffed laugh. "The woods are fine. Same as usual." He surveyed her position balanced on the arm. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable to sit on the furniture properly?" he drawled.
"Maybe. Probably." Trinne shrugged. "This is more fun-"
She lost her balance as she leaned over again and yelped, executing a frankly impressive--for her--feat of acrobatics to keep from banging their heads together. She did still feel her elbow graze his ribs as she tumbled onto the unoccupied half of the sofa.
"You were saying...?" Harvey's tone was bone dry, but she could see him fighting a smile.
"Yeah, yeah." She scrambled upright. "Maybe you're right, this is better." An impish grin as she hooked her fingers in his collar and tugged him over for a kiss. He kissed back more emphatically on this one, shifting to brace one hand against the sofa and slide the other into her hair. As if convinced of her impatience, or embracing the distraction of it, or just happy to oblige.
Trinne was so intent on the kiss she forgot about the letter, and didn't notice its seal was not laurels, but a griffon.
For @glamfellens in the @secret-st-waidwen-exchange here's 2.1k ofTarren and my fervent hopes I wrote her correctly! She seems like a very neat Watcher. <3
---
Tarren circled the tree, staring up at the apples that burdened the branches, trying to work out a way to get some. Even the lowest branches were too high to reach, there were no walls or hay bales or anything to climb on... Finally she reached the inevitable conclusion.
She wrapped her arms around the tree and rocked. Continued shaking until a half dozen apples had tumbled down. She scuttled around to collect them, hoping none were bruised. Shaking was not a preferred method of apple retrieval because of that risk, but she'd promised the other children, and in a pinch.... Well. It wasn't forbidden. Just not the first choice.
Prizes gathered in hand, Tarren hurried to where the others waited for her.
---
Her feet perched on the crosspiece of the chair's legs, Tarren leaned forward to listen to Mestre Tallazzo. Elbows braced on the desk, expression one of rapt attention to the Caballé family history and how it interplayed with Vailian politics. This would be important, both so she could do her duty as a ward of House Caballé and because the mestre had assigned them a paper on the topic of family history. Tarren didn't know how it was going for Sofia or Belizzi, but she was having trouble finding sources. There were simply too many books in the house library to go through them all in search of a relevent few. Perhaps there would be something in this lecture she could use.
Her attentiveness did not go unnoticed.
"You were quite invested today, Tarren," Mestre Tallazzo said as Sofia and Belizzi left the room. "You are always a good student, but it seemed even more important today. Have a particular interest in the founding era, do you?"
"That is what my paper is about," Tarren said. She hugged her books to her chest. "And it's so long ago I'm having trouble finding information. I've been to the library," she added hastily, "I haven't had much luck there so far."
"Hmm." Mestre Tallazzo stroke his goatee and studied her. "Tarren, when you want fruit that is high up a tree, what do you do?"
She blinked at the subject change but answered dutifully, "You climb up to where you can reach it."
His dark eyes twinkled. "And if there are no branches in reach?"
Tarren was beginning to wonder if he'd seen her apple picking. "You shake the tree."
"So it must be in life sometimes as well; you must 'shake the tree' to get or learn what you need."
She cocked her head. "The bookshelves are built into the wall, and I think if I shook the books off, they'd hurt, anyway."
The mestre laughed. "It is more... metaphorical in this case, my dear. Wouldn't wish to injure the Caballé ward, no? Did you ask the stewards where you might find the books you seek?"
Tarren chewed her lower lip. "I thought I was supposed to do all the research and writing on my own, Mstre Tallazzo."
"Yes, but asking someone to point you in the direction of the research materials is allowed," he chuckled. "I apologize if I made it seem otherwise." He patted her back. "You are allowed to ask for help when you need it, Tarren."
She nodded, relieved and perhps a little confused at the gravitas he gave the words. "Thank you, mestre. I'm going to work on my paper, now."
"And I'm sure it will be marvellous," Mestre Tallazzo said with a grin, gesturing broadly toward th door. "I cannot wait to read it."
Bolstered by his assurance and confidence, Tarren scurried from the room toward the library. Surely one of the stewards could help her 'shake the tree' as he'd suggested.
---
Tarren endured the sensation of eyes on her back for a full five minutes before turning to seek out the source. There were only a few other kith in the room; it shouldn't be hard to find someone staring at her.
And it wasn't. The blonde elven girl was hardly trying to be subtle. Tarren openly studied her back as she crossed the room. Dark eyes, a build that could be called waifish if not for her fine dress and intricately braided hair. The colors were House Alesté, but they were folk. A trusted servant? A ward, as Tarren was to Caballé? Whoever she was, the faintest hint of pink in her cheeks was the only indication of possible embarrassment Tarren caught her staring.
"Can I help you?" Tarren asked levelly when she reached the girl.
The blonde stood straighter and inclined her head. "You are the Caballé ward, ac? Lady Allandra says you do readings." She licked her lips and leaned closer. "Soul reading."
Ah. One of Sofia's friends had blathered about Tarren's cipher abilities around her inner circle or maidservants and now a curious soul wanted to see for herself. Tarren wondered absently what had made the subject come up between Sofia and Allandra in the first place.
"I do," she comfirmed, "Sometimes."
The blonde gave her a measuring look, taking in Tarren's pale blue skin, white hair, the Caballé colors she wore. "Would you... do one for me? I've had a growing sense of disquiet the past few weeks, and I'm not sure if it's a premonition of something, or my soul remembering something, or just a new anxiety..."
Tarren dipped her chin in a nod. Best to be accommodating to anyone associated with Allandra, she was one of Sofia's closest confidants, And she'd been courteous in the asking. "What's your name?"
"Benicia."
"Is there a particular answer you seek, Benicia, or just a general inquiry if something is... amiss?"
"Mostly if the disquiet is tied to the future or the past, I suppose." Benicia nibbled at her lower lip. "So I know if the issue is my soul or if there is, perhaps some danger to warn Lady Allandra about, ac?"
Tarren nodded. She could understand the concern. "Is there... anything in the works that could be a danger to her?" she asked. "For you to think this is potentially a premonition?"
"Her family is working on a trade agreement with the DiBellos, which is a secret," Benicia said in hushed, meaningful tones.
Another nod from Tarren. It was the way of Old Vailia's families. "I'll not speak a word." She could already sense faint turmoil even without trying. "Do you think it's merely the screcy? Or that the DiBellos will attempt something underhanded?"
"I don't know." Benicia made a helpless gesture. "That's why I asked for... for a reading. Perhaps this is just my soul, which is my own problem, but would be no concern of my lady."
"Right." Tarren extended a hand, hovering just over Benicia's forearm. "May I?" She didn't really need to ask; her abilities were strong enough to search the girl's soul with neither permission nor contact. But she strove not to use them like that.
Benicia extended her arm further. "Of course."
Souls were slippery things, ciphers simply more adept at pinning them under their searches. But Benicia's all but leapt at Tarren's probing, as if it wished to unburden itself of some terrible confession. She--obliging but careful--dove right in.
She could see shades, if not full details, of the deal between Alesté and DiBello, but that was not the source of distress. Hm, a marriage alliance.
The disturbance in Benicia's soul was easy to follow, flaring as an offshoot of her worry about the outcome of this contract. A little prying, a little teasing, and the answer presented itself--a few generations back, her soul had belonged to a DiBello. They had been a house of ill-repute at the time--since steered toward something honorable--and the faint echo of that time reproached the idea of joining House Alesté to that den of thieves. An amalgam of past knowledge and current affiliation. Nothing to worry about, so long as both halves of the contract acted honorably.
Tarren carefully withdrew from the past life so as not to Awaken it. She hesitated before fully disentangling from Benicia's soul. There were some more... surface thoughts about the arrangement she could read without getting too intrusive. Given her promise of secrecy, she wasn't sure how useful it would be, even if it didn't give her pause.
Before she'd finished her grapple with morality, two of the thoughts unbidden slithered into her mind.
'I hope he treats her well.'
'DiBello needs this more than we do.'
Deciding that was enough, Tarren fully retreated from Benicia's soul and offered her a reassuring smile as she relayed the results of the reading. "Your past life is fretting over outdated information, there is no need for concern."
"Agricima!" Benicia effused, giving her hand a grateful squeeze as she stepped back. "Perhaps I will sleep tonight."
"Happy to help," Tarren said with a polite smile, and excused herself. She didn't think this was what Mestre Tallazzo had meant by 'shake the tree' but she'd picked up some interesting tidbits all the same.
---
"Tarren, there you are!" Sofia rounded the corner with sparkling eyes and a mischievous step. "You'll never guess what I learned today!"
Tarren smiled and tuck away the sermon pamphlet she'd bee reading. "Well, then, you can just tell me." She and Sofia often differed on what was important or worth getting excited about; she might genuinely never guess.
Sofia's lips pursed in a mock-pout. "Oh, you're no fun sometimes."
Tarren shrugged, still smiling. "Saves time."
"Can't argue with that. Alright," Sofia giggled. "Inez has things arranged so she inherits control of her family's holdings when her mother passes."
Tarren's brows arched toward her hairline. "How in Cirono's name did she manage that? Aren't her sisters expecting an even split?"
"They are," Sofia confirmed gleefully, tugging Tarren's elbow so they could both sit on a divan. "She has been quite canny, you see. They shall inherit their shares of the Caledre-owned businesses, however--" her eyes sparkled-- "Inez has her own businesses, which own business, and those own larger investment shares than the Caledres will hold after it splits between her sisters in most all of their holdings. If they consolidate their fortunes and sacrifice shares in other holdings, her sisters may be able to prise one of the shipping ventures from her, but as it stands, Inez Caledre is on the precipice of being a very wealthy woman. Especially with the ducesa in such poor health, Cirono guide her."
The machinations made Tarren's head spin. She truly never would have guessed all this. "Her sisters don't suspect any of this?"
Sofia shook her head. "Not a whisper," she said. "And with their mother in such a bad way, she likely will not have to hide it much longer."
"And how did you learn about it?" Tarren asked, rearranging the pleats of her skirt to hide how disturbed she was at the lengths the youngest Caledre had gone to ensure she became the most powerful.
"Inez and I are friends, Tarren, we talk," Sofia said with a toss of her head, making her earrings glitter as they caught the light. "I asked the right kith the right questions to fill the gaps. Shook the tree, as it were," she grinned.
Tarren shook her head. Poor Mestre Tallazzo had no idea the ways we were going to mangle that saying. "Does Inez know you're wise to her, Sofia?"
"She know I know some of it; she told me herself." Sofia shrugged. "She also knows I'm impressed and she can consider me a supporter, ac?"
There it was. Tarren bit her lip. "Be careful. You know how quickly these games can turn on you."
Sofia smiled and patted her arm. "Agricima, Tarren, but it is how things go here. I'm forging an alliance for my house, and one this powerful comes with some risk in the forming."
"I know that," Tarren said, "We've just seen so many Houses fall to such manuevers going sour. I'd hate to see you join them."
"We're fine," Sofia promised, squeezing her arm, then blanched. "Ay, is that the time?! I'm late for tea with mother--"
She was gone in a flurry of silk and velvet before Tarren coul formulate any sort of reply. Her hopes this didn't go belly-up on Sofia would have to stay in her head.
---
It was many years and machinations of others before House Caballé fell, prompting Tarren's departure from Old Vailia. She found herself in the Dyrwood, in vastly different company, but some principles held the same regardless of time or distance.
"No one's talkin'," Sagani said grimly.
"Agreed, the residents are far from forthcoming," Aloth nodded.
Tarren sighed and drummed her fingers on her dagger hilt. "What we've found led here. there must be something that leads onward. Records we can check, someone who's less tight-lipped." If it came to it, she coul feel souls pressing to be read. "There' s a lead here, we just need to shake the tree."
#55 "tracing the lines on the other’s hand" for Vesper x Kurt?
hehehe thank you! Any chance to write these two being mushy is a good thing <3 ~650 words
---
It was still an adjustment waking up not-alone.
In a good way. A glorious, wonderful way that made warmth ball in her chest; the weight of his arm draped over her waist, her toes curling against her calf.
"Morning, Green Blood." His voice in her ear, low and rough.
Vesper smiled and wriggled back further into his embrace. "Morning. How long have you been awake?"
"Not very," Kurt murmured, though it had been long enough all trace of sleep was gone from his voice. His fingers traced lazy circles around her navel that made Vesper bite her lip. "I am willin' to have a slow start every once in a while."
"Mm, lucky me, then." She rested her hand over his, running her fingers in loops around his knuckles. lingered over a faint scar between two of them. "I suppose we don't have anything pressing this morning, do we?"
"Not in the morning, no." He kisses behind her ears. "I think you mentioned a meeting or a tea or something later, though."
"Mm, tea with Lady Morange." She traced the outline of his thumb, then along each finger. "But that's not 'til much later; we have plenty of time. You don't have drills to run or anything?"
"Always," Kurt snorted softly at her teasing tone. "One of the lieutenants'll handle them if I'm not there."
"Ah, I see." She fought a smile at the thought he'd prepared for such a circumstance, then shifted. Much as she was enjoying this position, she had a crick starting. Vesper sat up, remains of her haphazard braid falling over her shuolder, and rubbed her neck.
"Done already, Green Blood?" Kurt teased in turn.
"Perish the thought," she retorted, tugging his arms until he sat up as well. "I just want a different arrangement..." She shoved the pillows more against the headboard as she spoke.
He caught the intent and tugged her close to snuggle as he settled against the rearranged pillow. His arm around her waist. Her head on his shoulder. Perfect.
"I thought I was the creaky old one." Murmured into her hair.
"You aren't, and unfortunately neck cricks don't care how old you are." His hand lay in her lap and she idly traced a finger up the Y-line of his palm, then back and forth along the ones above it.
"No, I suppose not." A beat. "They only care how many nights you fall asleep at your desk."
"That has only happened once in the past two weeks and you know it, good Captain," Vesper retorted lightly, earning a chuckle. Her thumb ran back and forth--equally light--over the higher line across his palm. "I've had such an enticing incentive to come to bed, you know."
"Flattering, but we both know you were good at keepin' work to a proper place and time even before."
"True as that may be," back down the Y-line, trying not to look at a scar on his wrist, a burn she suspected wasn't from combat. "knowing I'll have you for company is a very persuasive case for turning in at a reasonable time."
Kurt was quiet, just a faint catch to his breathing at the lines she was drawing on his hand.
"Too much?" Vesper asked softly.
He wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "Just not used to havin' my praises sung."
"I know." She tugged his hand up to kiss the fingertips. "i'm sorry if it's coming on strong, but I happen to think you're every bit the wonder you believe me to be. I'm making up for lost time the rest of the world didn't acknowledge that."
"Then I suppose I'll adjust," Kurt said after a moment, voice thick. "But only if you let me return the favor."
"Your terms are acceptable," Vesper said, and tipped her hands back for a proper kiss.
In which Erii gains yet another ghost, and an archaeologist, and guess which of those she's happier about :D
---
Hoth's cold was biting, but it was not of foremost concern to Erii.
The ghosts were getting loud.
Zavros was not a distraction for Erghast and Andru; if anything he egged them on. She could see where Ashara got her impatience. Kalatosh had been in her head for all of a week and already pushed at her mental bounds. Unleash me, seek power, crush your enemies--
Ashara yelped and tottered as ice-crusted snow caved under her weight. "Why would anyone want to come out here? It's so cold and empty and no one will hear you if you run into danger."
"For some that's the point," Erii said, checking the holomap Sergeant Loren had marked. "Challenging the elements, evading death." The wind howled in her ears. "For others... well. Who knows what's hidden out here that no one's found because they didn't dare look?"
Ashara glanced at her, squinted in the sun. "Greed? People freeze to death or get lost or trapped for trinkets that might be valuable?"
"Some." Erii reoriented herself; they'd drifted northwest of their goal. "But there are things vauable for reasons quite other than monetary." She swept a hand in the direction they were heading. "Our Reclamation team, for example. I highly doubt personal wealth or notariety drives them, apprentice."
"It still seems a big risk to take, and not enough reward," Ashara shivered. Warm robes and the Force could only do so much.
The heat of the ghosts' anger, impatience, hunger pulsed through her as an almost physical warmth. Erii shut out the steadily rising clamor of their voices in her head and pressed on. Just this one more. I need to certain I can beat Thanaton at his game.
And then she could be done with them. Release them, as she had promised on their bindings.
It's never enough, is it, little snake--
You think it will end so easily--
Always more, we need more, do you think--
"My lord?" Ashara's hesitant probing broke the cacophony in her mind.
"We're almost there," Erii said with a shake of her head. "Let's get this done."
---
The Reclamation Service camp sprawled back from their dig site; heated tents, large-scale digging equipment not currently in use, speeders parked out of the elements as much as possible.
Their approach was noticed and intercepted by a man with a blaster rifle in hand and large polarized goggles shielding his face. "Well met, m'lord. What brings you out here?"
"I need to speak to the man in charge," Erii said, arms folded but posture otherwise loose to put him at ease. "Lieutenant Drellik?"
"Ah. You'll find him inside." The guard tipped his head back toward the icy cavern at the camp's epicenter.
"Really?" She arched a brow, glanced toward the inviting warmth of the nearest tent. "Getting his hands dirty?"
"Always, m'lord," the guard nodded. "Lieutenant's not the type to lead from a desk when he could be in the thick of it. M'lord."
"My kind of archaeologist," Erii drawled. The team had been a means to an end when Loren pointed her out this way, but maybe she'd like this Drellik fellow. She waved a hand. "Back to it, soldier."
"Yes, m'lord. I'll let them know you're coming." The guard gave a truncated bow and headed back to the cluster of droids and archaeologists he'd been minding.
"How many do you think we'll need to help?" Ashara asked as they headed into the dig site proper.
"Hopefully not more than four or five...." Erii said. There were more working in the cavern; it was quite a large team. "I doubt we'll need them all."
The cavern was a different kind of cold--out of the elements, but a chill emanated from the icy walls. The noise was different, too, the echo of voices and clattering tools rather than howling wind. Erii examined the metal support arches, the supply crates, the careful work being done to chisel into the bored walls. It was efficiently run, the service members relaxed and absorbed in their work. Most barely glanced up at their visitors before returning to task.
As they approached the nadir of the dig, a voice rose above the background clamor. "...we're close, I can feel it! We'll find that temple yet" A final curve rounded, and the speaker came into view--a wiry man in a dark purple parka, goggles tugged down around his neck, standing halfway up stair-stepped ice and stone. One hand grasped a guide wire as he directed those around him. "No cutting corners! Rogers, don't forget the salt." He pointed to a particularly icy patch near the far wall, carvings visible through the ice. "It may not be the best solution, but solid footing is a must."
"Yes, sir!" one of the workers called back, hauling a bucket of coarse salt to the indicated area.
Erii stopped a safe distance back from the excavation and pitched her voice loud enough to be heard over the bustle. "Lieutenant Talos Drellik?"
The man in the parka swiveled her direction and blinked a couple times before recognition set in. "My lord!" He carefully--but rapidly--descended to approach her. "To what do I owe the honor?" he asked with a bow.
"No need for that," Erii said, biting back a laugh and noting he was barely taller than her. Eye level was a nice change.
"Well, then." Drellik straightened, enthusiasm snapping in his green eyes. "I heard you single-handedly unearthed several Tulak Hord artifacts?" she nodded when he paused and a grin blossomed across his face. "Superb! I'm a Naga Sadow man myself, but I'd love to compare notes at some point."
"Certainly." Erii matched his grin. "Though in the interest of honesty, I tracked those artifacts at the behest of my former master. Given the choice, I'm far more interested in Ajunta Pall."
His brows arched. "Dual specialty? Fascinating."
This time she did laugh. "By necessity, yes." And ancestry, she added to herself, thinking of Kallig.
"I'll look forward to that conversation, my lord, but in the meantime, what brings you here?" Drellik gestured to his dig site. "Seeking me? How may I be of service?"
"I need your team's help to locate a ship called the Starrunner...." Erii told him the whole story of her goal, gambling a man so keen about ancient Sith Lords would be incentivized rather than repulsed by rumors of a ghost.
She was correct. "My team and I are at your disposal, my lord. Artifacts and a ghost!" His fingers tapped a random beat against his thigh as he thought. "Do you think they would show on a holo? A ghost, I mean. I've heard how the dead talk in Korriban's tombs, but to see one, that would be worthy of preservation...."
"We'll have to find out, I've never thought to try," Erii admitted with amusement.
"Yes, I suppose you've had other things on your mind," he chuckled. "Let's see what we can do to assist."
It was a credit to both his leadership and his team that they shifted gears from their excavation to her search so quickly and smoothly. One of the engineers prepped a probe sturdy enough for the weather while another worked with Drellik to mark good triangulation points for the distress beacon that would have been launched prior to the crash.
Thus prepared with a plan, warnings to mind the cold, and an update Drellik's team would shift camp for better comms, Erii and Ashara headed out to find a ghost. Or at least the trail of one.
---
They tracked the ship's distress beacon--notably nowhere near the Starruner itself. Tracked the Ortolans who had scavenged what little was here of use with Lieutenant Drellik's assistance.
A tracker on top of an archaeologist? Erii made a note to get her hands on the man's dossier if she got a chance. She was intensely curious about her new--albeit temporary--help, and knew nothing of his abilities beyond Sergeant Loren calling him 'odd' but skilled, and their brief conversations.
They found the ghost when they found the Ortolan camp. Horak-Mul. Or, part of him. Arrogant, as one would expect from the right hand of Ludo Kressh--and stars, didn't she have adjacency to enough ancient Sith?
"I know what you are, Force Caller," he sneered through the Ortolan chief. "But I will not be bound as the other victims writhing in your mind."
He thinks himself our better?! Kalatosh seethed.
Erii ignored his indignance, instead meeting the burning crimson gaze of the possessed Ortolan to negotiate with Horak-Mul. But this latest spirit was as stubborn as he was arrogant.
"I hold my freedom dear, Sith. I'll need more than words if you wish to bind me."
A lot more: the destruction and desecration of his assassins' final resting place. Just to consider telling her where to find him.
They would need some help with that, and Erii knew just where to find it--settling in at the next outpost in this frozen wasteland. "This is right up the Reclmation Service's alley," she explained to Ashara, "I'm sure he'll help."
---
What an understatement that proved. She rendezvoused with Lieutenant Drellik at Thesh outpost, in an office still frigid enough the lieutenant hadn't fully removed his coat. His eyes lit up as she relayed the ghost's demands, and while she wouldn't call it gloating, his glee was near-palpable.
"I knew it! It is on Hoth, then!" Drellik pushed to his feet and leaned over the datapad-strewn desk. "The others in the service scoffed at the thought, but I was correct!" Half-muttering to himself, he nudged through the datapads. "Ludo Kressh's right hand.... killed by Naga Sadow's assassins... Ah!" He found the one he sought and punched up what looked like a map. "My lord, do you realize what you've done?"
His enthusiasm was contagious, and Erii couldn't resist teasing through her grin as she leaned closer to examine the map, "You know, you're cute when you're excited."
He went bright pink from the roots of his sandy brown hair to the collar of the Imperial uniform jacket visible under his parka. "Oh, thank you." He cleared his throat, shifted his weight. "That's, ah, kind of you to say."
"Apologies, lieutenant," she chuckled, surprised at just how much she seemed to have flustered him. Have you never received a compliment? "I didn't intend to distract."
"No, it's... you're quite alright, my lord." Drellik cleared his throat once more and projected the map over the desk. "Where did the, ah, ghost say to find this temple?"
Erii studied the map, then indicated a spot in a nearby glacial valley. "Here."
"As I thought!" the adorable enthusiasm was back, but Erii refrained from commenting; she supposed she would be equally giddy to have a niche theory borne out. "Ice likely formed over the entrance, thicker with the passing years... This would be the Sadow'een--Naga Sadow's personal assassins, so secret most believed they never existed. Even for their time they were myth made real." He skirted the desk to an equipment locker mounted on the wall.
"However frozen over it may be, I need to get inside," Erii said, perching half on the edge of the desk.
"Oh, I can get you inside, my lord, never fear," Drellik promised. "I've been circumventing the security of ancient tombs since I was old enough to hold a dataspike and pair of pliers."
"Truly?" She arched a bow. "Good to know."
"There are much better tools to avail ourselves of now, of course," he said, picking necessities out of the locker and tucking them in the pockets and pouches of his gear. "Ready to depart?"
"Yes, by all means," Erii gestured toward the door, "lead on."
----
The journey to the cavern that concealed the Sadow'een temple-tomb wasn't long, though they did have to carefully pick their way through a survivalist cult's territory to reach it. A faint aura of menace hung over the icy tunnel, just barely enough to tickle the back of Erii's thoughts. But Ashara shuddered and she could see why the cult and local pirates had all steered away from using this cavern for anything.
Drellik seemed unfazed, which made her arch a brow. A single shift of his shoulders was the only indication he'd even noticed the change. But, then, the man was brimming with enough enhusiasm to choke an icetromper. Perhaps he'd just missed it.
"So if I understand correctly," Erii began, exmining the walls, "from you and our friendly ghost, this is where Naga Sadow's assassins lived and trained--and died, once they were... to that point. Seems a harsh place to call home."
Perfect for honing youself to survive anything, Darth Andru chuckled darkly in her head. You could learn from them, little snake.
She didn't deign to reply.
"Indeed, my lord! And I doubt it would have been encrusted under so thick a layer of ice in its day. Look there" --Drellik point toward the upper reaches of the cavern--"and you can see traces of decoration."
She could, perhaps even better than he expected, thanks to her implants; crenellations where walls met ceiling before ice smoothed over, red and purple crystals accenting, hanging crystal lights. Perhaps this wouldn't have been so bad a base.
Drellik continued chattering about the Sadow'een as they walked, and Erii was all too happy to encourage him. It had been a while since she last met a kindred spirit regarding the ancient Sith. And that had been Zash. Who tried to steal her body. Shame this acquaintence would be so short; she suspected it would end much better than her (literally) possessive former master--
A harsh jolt of electricity shot through her from the hanging crystal she'd just passed beneath.
Trap-- Erii thought, fighting the convulsions to reach for her dualsaber as guardian droids lurched to life. Ashara and Drellik had dispatched them by the time Erii was free of the trap she'd triggered.
"Are you alright?" Ashara asked, overlapping with Drellik's profuse apologies he'd not noted the active trap.
"I"m fine, and it's alright." The ancient trap packed more punch than Lord Orlon's guards but less than the poison she'd drunk for Erghast's ritual. She'd survive.
"I still should have been more alert--"
"Lieutenant," she cut him off with a wave back down the tunnel, "we've passed at least two similar ornamentations with no such reaction. I don't require prescience from those assisting me."
"Most gracious of you, my lord." Drellik shuffled his feet in the snow. "But perhaps a bit more attention is warranted, now that we know some of the security remains active?"
"That does sound wise," Erii agreed. She shook her head to clear the lingering staticky clamor. The ghosts were loud enough, she didn't need neurons yelling at her on top of it.
They proceeded with more caution, and did manage to dodge a couple more traps. The disarming mechanisms, Lieutenant Drellik pointed out, were located too high to be reached without climbing gear they hadn't deemed necessary. Still, it was easy enough to avoid the electrical surge, fight the droids it activated, and continue on. Erii didn't consider it a mortal oversight, not when traveling light allowed them to move much more swiftly.
The tomb door, when they finally reached it, was ominously clear of ice. As if even Hoth's unrelenting nature dared not trespass on the specter of Sadow's assassins. The large lavender crystal mounted at the peak of the diamond-shaped door glowed as they approached.
"Master--" Ashara began, and Erii reached for her lightsaber at the sight of the crackling electrical buildup. This looked to be more directed than the other traps they'd dodged. A final, lethal treat for any who trespassed the hallowed places of the Sadow'een.
"Excuse me, my lord." Drellik stepped past her even as the lightning began to spark off in jagged streaks, pulling a compact metal cylinder from his belt. It extended with the press of a button and he held it aloft to catch one of the writhing bolts before it hit them, then redirected the bolt back at the crystal mechanism to overwhelm it.
Erii eyed the shattered and smoking result with interest. "Clever."
"Oh, thank you." Drellik closed down and stowed the tool. "It is a handy little thing. Designed based on the lightning spires of Kaas City. It's proven invaluable with the ancient Sith's fondness for lightning."
She chuckled. "Oh, the current ones are quite fond of that still." Small bolts danced over her gauntlet. She nodded toward the tomb door. "Can we get in?"
"Oh, yes." Drellik examined the door. "Shouldn't be difficult. Simple pulley job will do the trick."
Erii bit back a smile watching him work. "Will you require assistance, lieutenant?"
"Hm? Oh, no. I've long mastered rigging this myself, my lord." He was already digging in pockets and pouches for the components.
"Really?" How much would the service miss you if I stole you for my crew? It was in her rights as a Sith, and he seemed incredibly useful to have around. "In that case, we shall keep an eye out for any additional trouble."
"Excellent idea, my lord. Who knows how many more of these droid guardians prowl the halls." With that, he turned back to his work, and Erii and Ashara to guarding his back.
It was good they did; several more droids attacked. Whether their alertness was happenstance or an alarm triggering somewhere, Erii couldn't say. It didn't really matter.
"You seem to be hitting it off with our guide," Ashara commented, lightsabers crackling as she bisected a droid.
"And this surprises you, apprentice?" The pale pink blade of Erii's dualsaber pierced another droid's chassis.
"I was under the impression Sith saw non-Force users as beneath them."
"Most do." The newest arrival stood half a meter taller than her, wielding a heavy magna staff she was forced to dodge. "I've met too many who are skilled, clever, or both to write them off."
She slashed, taking off the droid's leg, and Ashara drove both 'sabers into its head when it fell.
"How goes it, lieutenant?" Erii asked, turning back to the tomb door.
"Almost..." the was a grunt, a small crack from the ice, and he stepped back to survey his handiwork. "There! Allow me to double check the stability. No excuse for cutting corners this close."
"Of course." Erii ran an appraising look over the arrangement in tandem, impressed by the thin, tensile rope and small pulleys that would allow easy transport without being bulky.
"All set, my lord," Drellik said, rubbing his hands together. It may have been the cold, but...
"Excited, lieutenant?" she drawled with a chuckle.
"Oh, yes!" He didn't seem the least bit abashed or embarrassed about it. "There are so many wonders to be found with a new tomb, like watching a flower blossom."
"An apt analogy," Erii said, watching the pulleys prise open the door it by bit. Very much like the unfurling petals of some large, strange flower.
Once fully open, she and Drellik both eyed the entrance with anticipation, Ashara with trepidation.
"Master, do you want me to wait out here?" she asked. "I can keep an eye for any stragglers of the droids, or wandering pirates."
"Uncomfortable entering a Sith tomb, apprentice?" Erii arched a brow.
"A bit," Ashara said with a shrug. "I'm not afraid, I'll do it if you want, but..." She flicked a glance into the doorway. "It doesn't feel right."
"Very well. A rearguard can't hurt, and I'm sure Lieutenant Drellik will be suffcient assistance."
He was already shuffling toward the tomb door, torn between his excitement and deference to let her go first.
Erii bit back a smile and put him out of his misery. "Let's go, lieutenant."
"Right behind you, my lord." He followed with alacrity as she brushed past.
A harsher, heavy wave of cold hit as they stepped through onto yet more ice. Erii blinked at the sting of it as she examined their new surroundings.
"Catacombs," Drellik surmised, even as she came to the same conclusion. "Unbelievable! Look how extensive..."
"So the halls back there are... the basement?" Erii gestured toward where Ashara waited.
"Or a lower level of some sort, yes. Most of the temple would have been built in the elements and worn down over the centuries." His breath frosted the air as he looked around in wonder. "This would have been underground and thus protected from such a fate. Fascinating! The last resting place of the Sadow'een..."
"How many of them would be here, do you think?" she asked, looking for signs of burial urns or scattered bones or anything of the sort.
"I couldn't be sure, my lord," Drellik shrugged apologetically. "There are no records how extensive their membership might have been. Indeed, there's barely any record of them at all that's credible beyond rumor."
"I see..." That did make a sort of sense, for an order of secret assassins. Erii strode toward a small cluster of relics, Horak-Mul's edict ringing in her mind. Now that she was here, she was even more reluctant to carry out his terms. "Seems a shame to destroy so much history, especially when there isn't much recorded in the first place..." She brushed ice off a decorative display meant to house a lightsaber. It's what he requires for cooperation and I need--
You really think adding another will tame us? Erghast chuckled sardonically.
I think it will give me power to defeat Thanaton and I can be done with all of you, she retorted.
"My lord?" Drellik began, capturing her attention. He tugged at the goggles hanging around his neck. "Might I take some holorecordings before you... begin? I know you said the ghost wishes it destroyed, but this much history..." He swept one hand in a gesture at the crypt, "to obliterate it would be to orphan ourselves. Cultures need the hand of the past as a guide, even as they move forward."
"Be thorough," Erii nodded. She appreciated his passion and happened to agree. "In fact, if you've got an extra, I'll help."
He blinked, as if caught off-guard by her agreement, or at least its speed. "Thank you, my lord. And yes, I do."
Erii watched as he dug two compact holorecorders from his belt, further impressed by just how much fit in there. She accepted the one he offered, glanced over the controls, and the two of them set about documenting everything they could about the catacombs. It was good she'd offered to help; even with two of them it took the better part of two hours, complicted by a smattering of more guardian droids to defeat. She hoped Ashara didn't freeze waiting for them.
Finally when both recorders' memories were full, and the last relics documented, Erii handed hers back and ignited her dualsaber.
She caught Drellik's wince before she turned away and couldn't blame him for not wanting to watch. It turned her stomach as well, but it had to be done. So she told herself. Didn't make it easier.
The final relic--a large statue of Naga Sadow himself which Drellik had gushed over while taking extremely detailed holos--was too large for a mere lightsaber to suffice for its destruction. Several seconds of sustained lightning left Erii's fingertips and implants tingling and an ozone taste in her mouth, but the statue did crumble.
In nearly the same moment it fell, one of the defeated droids was suffused with a familiar red glow. Horak-Mul was pleased with the revenge she'd enacted. Satisfied to tell her where he could be found.
The belly of a superdreadnaught, deep in pirate territory. Of course.
Power never comes easily, little snake.
She studiously ignored Andru and watched Drellik examine the now-collapsed droid. "Never seen spirit possession before, lieutenant?"
"Not of a droid," he said, so off-hand the implication gave her pause. "Fascinating..."
"If you're looking for a souvenir, I think the three of us can get that out of here," Erii drawled with a nod at the droid.
"No, no. I'll have plenty to do with cataloguing these recordings." He patted he pocket that held the fruits of their labor. "Zerek outpost has better equipment for analysis, and it's en route to the Starship Graveyard. I can show you the way if you like."
"That would be lovely, thank you." They could discuss the tomb on the way. Which they did.
And Ashara was gracious enough to let her chatter away with her new friend. Erii appreciated her silence all the more since they were drawing near an end to their time here--and thus working with Lieutenant Drellik. She mulled over the merits of conscripting him again, but watching him animatedly discuss what these findings meant for researchers, she tamped down the temptation. Far be it from her to pull the man from a career he clearly loved. Even if her selfish impulses clamored to do exactly that.
They said their farewells at the outpost, Drellik thanking her profusely for allow allowing records of the Sadow'een catacombs, Erii thanking him for all his help.
She shivered against a particularly cutting wind as she and Ashara made their way down the path toward the dreadnaught and tried not to sulk that this was likely the last she'd see of Talos Drellik.
---
Her hand stung from the newest blood pact, a fresh gash crossing the half-healed one from Taris, and the cacophony of four ghosts in her head had replaced the cacophony of the wind. Erii did her best to ignore both on the shuttle ride to Hoth's orbital station. She was glad to be done with the cold, and the wound on her palm would be easily treated in the Mercurial's medbay.
She was so lost in thought of how best to confront Thanaton, she almost missed the wiry figure trying to flag her down. Might have, if Ashara hadn't dug an elbow into her ribs.
"He's like a puppy," her apprentice whispered with a a tilt of her head, and Erii pivoted.
Her brows shot up. "Lieutenant?" She'd figured he would be neck deep in those holos for another few hours. Yet here he was, sans parka and goggles, tugging straight a uniform jacket rumpled by persistant wear under further layers.
"No longer, my lord." He smoothed a hand over his hair. "I, um, resigned the service."
Her brows arched higher. "Oh? And why would that be?"
"I feel my talents are no longer best used in the military." He shuffled his feet on the scuffed durasteel floor. "I could put them to far better use, ah, helping you, I believe. If you'll have me."
Erii restrained the urge to whoop and punch the air, but did let herself grin. "I can always use another lover of the strange. I'm honored you wish to assist me."
Drellik opened his mouth as if to further argue his case, stopped, then lit up like a child on Life Day. "Excellent! You won't regret it! I have a--"
She held up a hand. "Credentials can come later, lieutenant. Our work today is all the evidence I need this is the right call."
"You honor me, my lord." He put a hand to his chest and bowed. "But since it's no longer lieutnant, Talos will do."
The face-splitting grin was back. Finally someone who would appreciate the history as much as she did without trying to kill her. "Very well, Talos, let's see what weird and wonderful discoveries await." Soon as I deal with the Dark Council member who keeps trying to kill me.
Talos matched her grin. "Right behind you, my lord."
Erii noted, as they boarded the ship, that her ghosts were miraculously, blessedly, silent.
Love that I keep writing the aftermath of Crisis on Umbara with everyone except my Theronmancers. XD Endrali/Arcann, ~4k words
---
If she stared at the datapad any longer, she would start seeing double.
Preferring to avoid that--and the headache that would come with it--Endrali tapped a key to mark her place and let the datapad thunk on her desk. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of one hand and stretched. A glance across the room showed both loth-kitten and gizka sleeping on her bed.
Endrali smiled at the sight of them. When she'd aquired Opila from the farm, she'd worried Kyber would object. That concern was clearly unfounded, as the gizka was snoozing away with his head nestled atop his new furry sister. Happy as she was to see them this content together, a nap was not what she needed. She needed some fresh air and a change of scenery.
And she knew exactly where she could find both.
---
An absolutely delicious breeze teased her hair as she stepped out onto her personal landing area. A little gardening to relax and enjoy the day, maybe see if Arcann would help her practice more single-blade, then she would get back to the datawork.
She keyed the code to open the crate with her gardening tools and surveyed the flower beds. Best to check on the saffron first; they were newest and the sunny space attracted weeds more than the shaded beds of snow orchids.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been lost in the task, humming to herself as she uprotted weeds and watered flowers, when she sensed an approach. One that had her smiling and turning toward the door before it opened.
Arcann's focus was elsewhere, his thoughts preoccupied, but both snapped to her with impressive speed. "...Hello."
"Surprised to find me here?" Endrali teased with a giggle as she pushed to her feet with a giggle and approached.
"Surprised to find you," Arcann said dryly. "Your presence has been... sparse the past day or so."
"Yeah, sorry." She wrinkled her nose apologetically. "Lana and Theron had another batch of intel in trying to ferret out the traitor, I wanted to help wade through it while it was fresh. You caught me while taking a break."
"Admirable," he said, reaching to brush a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his thumb. "I'm sure they appreciate the help."
"I dunno, sometimes I think Theron likes having an excuse to be a workaholic," Endrali said glibly. She raked frizzled tendrils of hair back from her face. Her cheek still felt warm where he touched it. "What about you, what have you been up to while deprived of my company?" she teased, leaning against the open gardening crate.
Arcann smiled and shook his head at her playful needling. "Senya... picked up on something out on the wilderness. It was faint, but she felt it bore investigating and did not wish to do so alone, especially considering your... experience."
Endrali shuddered at the reminder of Valkorion's manipulations, that damned cave.... She wondered how he knew about it; if Senya had told him or he'd read a report or... it wasn't really important. "Did you find anything?"
He hesitated a moment, rubbing his jaw. "...Yes and no. There was... an echo. As if at one point there had been a nexus or stronger concentration of Force energy, but it had dissipated before we located it."
"Interesting," she mused, biting her lower lip in thought. "Any sense if it was more dark or light energy?"
He shook his head. "Neutral."
"Hm. Well, if it was faded by the time you found it, I suppose it doesn't matter so much, but it is curious." She cracked her knuckles. "Be interesting to see if there are others..." And if they seem to lean one way or the other... she added silently, oppressive shadows of the cave in her mind. She shook it off, looked up at Arcann. "So if you didn't come out here looking for me, what were you doing?"
He cocked his head toward the meditation circle. "Clearing my thoughts." Something in his eyes softened. "It seems to work better out here."
Endrali's face warmed. "I'm glad it helps. I have a bit more gardening I wanted to do, when we're both done do you want to spar? We haven't had time for a while, and I could use-"
"More single-hilt practice?" Arcann finished with a faint smile.
She nodded. "You're the best one to help with that."
"I appreciate the confidence." He ran his hand over his scalp. "And would enjoy the chance for some time together."
"Excellent," Endrali said, smiliing bright. "No sense wasting time, then." It just increased the chances of something interrupting them.
Arcann just smiled as he headed for the meditation circle, but she could sense his anticipation as well. It bouyed her as she returned to the flower beds. An hour passed, but a very contented one, before she was finished. Endrali's comm chirped as she was putting away the garden tools. She glanced at it and growled softly.
"Yes, I just forgot I have a meeting." Endrali scrubbed her forehead with the heel of one hand. "With Lana and Theron, to talk about leads. Compare notes, so to speak. I'll do that and then meet you in the practice room to spar? Sorry for the delay..."
"It's alright." He smoothed wisps of hair back from her face. "I will await you."
"Thank you for being so understanding." She squeezed his hand. Part of her wanted to kiss him, but she always wanted to kiss him, now. Was that too much for something simple like this? She didn't want to come on too strong, either. Stars, she didn't know how any of this worked.
"Of course." Arcann hesitated, something unsaid burning bright in her sense of him, then gave a small shake of his head. "I'll see you shortly."
Endrali nodded, squeezed his hand again, and headed for the staging area. Theron had taken to working down there; something about being able to more easily access more sources of data. If it made his job easier, she didn't mind where he worked, honestly.
She almost laughed at the deja vu when Lana strolled smugly into the meeting with a time sensitive lead. I have to stop making plans with Arcann around these briefings; it makes them turn into missions, she grumbled to herself as she commed him to apologize about the ten-hours-each-way trip to Umbara. "I hate that this keeps happening."
"It comes with your role. I understand," Arcann assured her. "We can spar on your return."
"Sounds good." She clicked off the comm and found Lana staring at her with one brow arched.
"You spar with Arcann?" Lana asked, tone striving for neutral and falling miserably short.
"You mean you didn't know?" Endrali muttered. The sniping comment was, perhaps, not Good Jedi Behavior, but she was feeling petty and peevish about her plans being interrupted. "He's been helping me get more comfortable wielding a standard single blade lightsaber, in case a situation arises where my dualblade is... unavailable."
"I see." She wondered how hard Lana was working not to voice the Is that wise? burning in her psyche. "Hopefully this won't be too long a delay on your plans, Commander."
"Hopefully," Endrali agreed, strapping in as Theron finished preflgiht for the shuttle and they got underway.
---
Arcann found himself at loose ends with the plans they'd made... disarranged. He wasn't even sure why; sparring would hardly have taken the rest of the day. He would have done other things once they finished, anyway. He flexed his hands as he paced the corridors. Perhaps it was shifting into the mindset for a fight that was then denied. Perhaps it was agitation that he hadn't gone with her, or at least wished her luck, told her to be careful. Not that she needed either of those, but he still thought of Iokath. How close they--he--had come to losing her.
Maybe he needed to hit something.
No, that wouldn't help and he knew it. Better to find some other method of distraction until they returned. With both Lana and Theron assisting her, surely his anxiety was unfounded.
Didn't make it any easier to shake.
"Wow, you seem tense."
Arcann flinched and pivoted jerkily toward the casual comment.
"Jumpy, too," Vette teased, cocking her head.. "You up to somethin'? Can I get in on it?"
"No." He snorted and clasped his hands behind him. "Therein lies my problem, actually."
"Do tell," Vette said, grinning as she pushed off the wall. "I'll walk with you."
He resumed his course to nowhere in particular as he explained the developments that interrupted his and Endrali's plans.
"Bummer," Vette deadpanned, twirling some trinket or other in her hands. He didn't catch what it was before she pocketed it. "That would be quite a fight to watch. You two want a referee?"
Arcann chuckled. "They haven't gotten out of hand before, so I think we'll be alright. But I'll keep the offer in mind."
"So is that why you're all" --she flapped a hand in his general direction--"like this? Not gettin' a fight you expected?"
A rueful smile as he nodded. "That is my theory, yes."
Vette shrugged and made a sympathetic noise. "If I was any good with a vibroblade, I'd offer to stand in. 'Fraid I'm more of a blasters girl, though."
"Thank you for your willingness," Arcann said dryly. "I-I'd just as soon wait for Endrali, anyway," he confessed. He wasn't even sure why, but it felt wrong to consider sharing that activity with anyone else.
"Sure, sure," Vette smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. She lapsed into squirmy silence as they passed through a more populated area of the base. Once they were back in a deserted hallway, she looked up at him with exaggeratedly feigned casualness. "You two kissed yet?"
Arcann almost choked on his surprise. "Pardon?" It wasn't a denial or deflection; as far as he knew they weren't hiding the recent shift to their relationship, just... not being obnoxious about it.
Vette grinned at catching him so off-guard and skippped a step or two as they turned onto an observational deck. "Oh, your whole mutual pining thing is really cute to watch. 'Specially since I think Endrali thinks she's better at hiding it than she actually is--"
From everyone except me, apparently, Arcann thought dryly.
"An' I know it's complicated with you conquering the galaxy an' tryin' to kill her and all, but you're both my friends, so I gotta wonder if anything happened with it yet, y'know?" She leaned against a rail and waggled her brows at him. "C'mon, you owe me for Denova."
He huffed a surprised laugh at that, even as his gaze flicked to the plasma burn scars curling up her right arm. "You want gossip in exchange for saving my life?"
"Well, yeah," Vette shrugged. "It's more fun than hoping we're in a spot where you'll have to save mine again, right?"
"A good point," he conceded, weighing out his courses. It wasn't merely his 'gossip', after all. But he doubted Endrali would mind Vette knowing. "And yes."
"Ha, I knew it!" Vette crowed, clapping her hands together. "Happy for you, wish you the best, obviously. When was it? When you gave her the armor? That's a big deal kind of present."
"How did you..." On second thought, he wasn't sure he wanted to know how she knew about the armor.
"Please, I'm a snoop, you know that." Vette waved a hand. "Also, who else would give her Zakuulan armor, you know?"
Arcann shrugged in wordless admission of the logic. "I want..." he sighed and stared out over the swaying forests that surrounded the base. "I want to keep her safe. I know she doesn't need it, and that for some time I was the largest threat to her, but now..." he shook his head. "I worry, even when I know I don't need to."
"That's what happens when you're in love," Vette said, as if it was patently obvious or he knew how love worked, "Toss in that you used to be enemies and it makes all kinds of sense that you'd... overcompensate worrying about her."
"Quite wise of you," Arcann chuckled.
"I am pretty wisdomous, aren't I?" She sidled over to elbow him in the ribs for the skeptical look. "Shut up, it's a word."
"I had no intention of arguing otherwise," Arcann said, biting back a smile. Not when you're being such an undeservedly good friend.
"Good. And for the record, I think Endrali would find it sweet you worry about her even when you don't need to."
"I hope you're right," he said ruefully, "I don't see it as a habit I'll break anytime soon." He cut a glance toward the twi'lek. "Though I must admit, coonversing with you has helped make this occasion not so bad."
"That's me, distraction queen," Vette chirped with a triumphant head wiggle. "Lemme think of another topic and I'll keep it up 'til they get back..."
---
Endrali stared at her hands, absently tracing a bruise on the back of one, struggling to wrap her head around what today meant. What it would mean, going forward. She was too blindsided to sort through it, let alone talk about it. Lana was quiet in the cockpit, radiating fury and hurt and probably composing her third contingency plan in her head.
Endrali wanted to linger on the 'hurt' stage a little longer before she tried being pragmatic about it.
Lana docked the shuttle, took a deep breath. "Commander, we need to decide what to do about Theron--"
Endrali held up a hand as she freed herself from the seat restraints with the other. "Lana, I need a few minutes before I can strategize about this."
"I understand the difficulty, but I don't know how much time--"
"I won't be able to react to it until I process it," Endrali cut her off, rubbing her forehead. She hadn't been able to do more than doze on the return flight and the lack of sleep wasn't helping. "I don't want to make a bad call."
Lana opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded. "Very well. I will work on ways to get ahead of this."
"I'll try not to be too long," Endrali said. "This is just... a lot."
Endrali raked one hand through her hair as she left the room. She should go meditate. Even just a little time centering herself would do wonders. But that wasn't where she was headed. She reached out, found a familiar presence, and headed for the training rooms.
"Tell me you didn't wait down here the whole time," she said with wry amusement despite herself.
Arcann started slightly as he turned, then shook his head. "I found other things to occupy myself. I was just... restless, and figured you would want to sleep upon your return."
She gave a humorless laugh. "Small chance of that."
He tensed at her tone. "Did something happen?"
Lana and Hylo had kept a tight lid on developments if even people on Odessen didn't know yet.
Her shoulders slumped, breath rushing out in a sigh. "Arcann, I... Theron.... Theron's the traitor."
Arcann's disbelief rippled through the Force. She couldn't blame him; it didn't sound any less nonsensical to her now than when first confronted by the news. He studied her silently, then, "What can I do?"
Endrali wilted at the gentle offer, the concern she sensed from him, and then pulled herself back together. "Spar with me? It might make me a bad Jedi, but I think that will help me more than meditation."
Protest rose in his eyes--she was tired, she wasn't thinking straight, neither was good for this--but Arcann nodded. "As you wish."
She fixed her hair back as he retrieved a pair of single hilt blades. She was grateful he hadn't fought her about it. "Thank you." She took the practice blade and swung it in a paired loop as he stepped back. "Arcann?" Waited for eye contact. "Don't hold back."
His blue eyes flickered; he'd been intending precisely that. But thus called out, he gave a nod of understanding. "Your start, Endrali."
You want this, you begin.
She was more comfortable on offense, anyway.
Endrali lunged forward, feinting left and striking right.
Arcan knew her too well to fall for it, and parried almost effortlessly. "What happened, if I may ask?"
Another humorless laugh spilled out as she deflected his retaliation. "Nothing that makes- sense-" she grunted around her next set of attacks.
He blocked the first, but the second caught his ribs, and she picked up the approval at her landing a hit even in her exhausted and agitated state. Improvement.
She elaborated the event of Umbara as they struck and dodged and danced around the training room. The train, the crystals, the betrayal. 'If this is the price of peace, so be it.'
Arcann frowned as they circled each other, blades held low but ready. "That... doesn't sound like Theron."
"Tell me about it," Endrali panted. She palmed away a trickle of sweat from her temple, noted the dampening at the collar of Arcann's tank top. They were both committed, which was exactly what she wanted. She flourished her blade and closed in again. Made three quick strikes. "He helped found this Alliance, was always the strongest proponent for minimizing losses--"
Arcann blocked her strikes, rolled the last into a hit against her elbow and she yelped.
"--Being alright with however much death it takes to destroy us?" She shook her head, backing off to circle again. "I can't... It doesn't make sense."
"It does seem... out of character," Arcann agreed. He studied her a moment before closing in for attacks of his own. "Though, admittedly, I don't know him nearly as well."
She blocked his strikes, but bruises protested and she cringed backwards, giving ground. Arcann pulled away immediately, studying her with concern furrowing his brow.
"Endrali?" His blade hung at his side. "Are you alright?"
She nodded and took a deep breath. The twinge eased. "Just bruises this time," she promised. Well, bruises and the cut at the back of her neck from leaping through a broken transparisteel viewport. But that was small and under her hair, he didn't need to worry, this wasn't like Iokath--
Which had probably also been Theron.
All of it.
She let her blade hang loosely at her side. "Arcann, how did I miss this? He's my friend, I'm good at... reading people, how did I not pick up anything?!"
"I don't know," Arcann gestured helplessly, bringing his blade back up, "he must have hidden it well."
"No kidding," Endrali muttered, repositioning her own practice saber to be ready. I need to work on defense. "Really well if no one clued in along the way shifting from risking his life defending this place from Vaylin to crashing a train with me on it!"
Arcann froze mid-strike. "He-"
"Remember, just bruises." She tapped her blade to his. "No holding back. You don't need to worry."
"I cannot help it," Arcann retorted, completing the aborted strike. It caught her shoulder; she was getting sloppy. "I only wish to be your shield" --she blocked the swipe at her midriff--"and you are in danger so often." Two blows center mass, quick succession. She blocked but gave ground to do it, and he pressed in. "Even from your friends, it seems. So such worry hardly seems ill-founded."
"That's--" She ducked low under another swing, swept at his ankles, rolled to her feet when he dodged.
"He must know how you operate." Arcann spun a kick and she ducked again. "Why did he not talk to you before resorting to such extremes?"
"That's what I asked!" she laughed bitterly, turning a parried blow into a strike at his ribs. She pulled back and they circled again. "He said I would've... stopped him...."
A thought niggled, and she barely snapped out of it in time to block Arcann's next attack, but a spark connected in her tired brain as their blades clashed. 'I knew you'd try to talk me down.'
A theory built rapidly as she dodged and struck, founded on nothing much beyond hope and phrasing.
'I wanted to tell you, but....' Those were not the words of a man hell bent on destruction, or her death. for that matter.
What if... "What if he wasn't?" she thought aloud.
"Wasn't what?" Arcann grunted, stepping back a pace as he blocked her attack.
"Trying to kill me." Her strikes came in rapid succession as she added pieces. Shot out the window. Warned us what was coming. The delay of the explosion.
"Then what was- he- doing-?" Arcann countered her words as he did her blows, though he gave ground for each.
"I don't know," Endrali admitted. "Yet. But flying solo to do something reckless for a good cause seems much more like Theron than being comfortable with triggering scores of deaths." That would also explain not sensing anything wrong. Arcann retreated another step and she pressed in. She almost had him to the wall now, maybe she could finish this--
Arcann parried and pivoted at the last second, reversing their positions to pin her against the wall, his cybernetic arm trapping her blade to the durasteel. "That is... very little evidence for taking such a big risk."
"I've worked with less," Endrali panted, leaning into the wall's support and holding his gaze, ruby locked with blue. She rested one hand on his chest, his heartbeat pound under her touch. "I was right about you," she said softly, "trust that I'm right about him."
"A fair point," Arcann murmured. Several emotions flashed through him, and he gently tucked a sweat-damp tendril of blue hair behind her ear, touch lingering on her cheek, over the scar he'd given her. "I don't want anything to happen to you..."
"Trust me, neither do I," she said glibly. "That's why I trust the Force, and my instincts, and my people. And work on rounding out my skills." She wiggled the trapped blade. "This, by the way, wouldn't work with a real lightsaber."
Arcann smirk slightly and flexed the cybernetic fingers. "Cortosis plating. It would work long enough."
Something about the confidence of the words made her bite her lip. "I stand corrected. And defeated," she added wryly, not at all inclined to get out of this position. "I did need this, thank you."
He nodded. "Of course."
When he started to disengage, she darted a hand up to the back of his neck to pull him back in, pushing up on her toes to meet him for a kiss. Her training saber joined Arcann's on the floor with a clatter as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Both of hers circled his neck, equally eager for closeness.
"I am... glad you're alright," Arcann mumbled, breathing hard, when they parted.
Endrali nodded, trying to catch her breath. He always kissed like he was afraid it would be the last time, and this had been no exception. She couldn't say she minded. Truth be told, she'd rather stay here, safely sheltered between him and the wall from the mess waitinng to blow up, and the wild theory she had to run by-
"I told Lana I wouldn't be long," she sighed. Can't avoid responsibility forever.
Arcann nodded and stepped back. "Go. I'm sure I'll see you later."
"Count on it," Endrali promised. she let her hand linger on his arm as she stepped away. "After I sleep."
He chuckled. "Of course. I'll clean up here."
"Thanks for that, too."
Endrali drew and exhaled a long breath as she headed out of the training room. She definitely felt more centered now. She needed to clean up, make sure Kyber and Opila were still getting along, then....
Lana was going to be an even harder sell than Arcann. Not without evidence beyond, essentially, a gut feeling. But that's alright. I don't need her to agree with me. Just to trust me.
And if there was one thing she could do, it was inspire trust.
