#verin ejnar

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 16 (Into the Void)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Fynta and Aric still have some things to work through. Verin offers some brotherly advice (and violence). And the council, once again, regrets every decision that led them to where they are.

Chapter Word Count: 3,402 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar-Wolfe

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

  The Thunderclap   Leaving Nathema

 Aric glared at the gleaming box on the edge of his desk. Strange that such a menacing device could look so innocuous when Aric picked it up. He didn’t know why he’d pilfered the holocron, or what he planned to do with it, only that it felt important. An idea niggled at the back of Aric’s mind, roosting there until it could reach maturity.

 “Did you hear me?” Aric leaned back in a desk chair that might as well have a permanent impression of his ass. Shillet waited on the other side of his comm, black eyes glaring into the camera. He saw the accusation. Aric had interrupted whatever she’d been working on, but couldn’t be bothered to keep his attention on the conversation he’d started.

 Scooping the datacron into a drawer, Aric gave his daughter an apologetic nod. “Sorry, kiddo, what was that?”

 The teenager in question rolled her eyes, then went back to painting her toenails. Shillet had grown into a woman overnight, filling out in ways that made Aric uncomfortable with so many young men on the base. She’d also taken to wearing makeup and doing things like painting her nails. Not for the first time, Jorgan wondered if there was a boy involved, but he was too much of a coward to ask. Maybe he’d comm Elara to see if she knew anything.

 “I said ‘how did it go?’” Shillet leaned forward to blow on the wet paint. “You weren’t out of contact as long as I expected.”

 Was that disappointment that Aric heard in his daughter’s voice? “Missed the target,” his gaze slid towards the drawer, “made some interesting discoveries, though.”

 “That’s good, then, right?” Shillet screwed the cap on and fanned one hand over her feet. “It’s better than nothing, at least.”

 Aric started to answer that he didn’t know. That he might have found a weapon or a shield, but wasn’t sure which way to wield it or who to tell. Fynta had wanted to blow the thing up, so she probably wouldn’t approve of him removing it from the vault. All Aric knew was that it was important.  

 “And I’ve lost you again.” Shillet sighed.

 “I’m still here,” Aric grumbled, then sat straight when the door to their room opened and Fynta swept in. “So is Fynta.”

The woman waved, then tapped the side of her head to let Aric know that she was on another call. She’d been in near continuous contact with Odessen discussing what had been discovered on Nathema. Everything from Vaylin’s tortured childhood and the strange absence of the Force, to the world shaking dread that came with realizing that Vaylin’s full potential had been unlocked.

 “We need those numbers, Theron.” Fynta ended the call, then learned over with a grin. “You look nice. Any particular reason?”

 Jorgan clenched his jaw to keep from growling and tried to be invisible for fear that Shillet wouldn’t answer if he drew attention to himself. Shillet flushed a deeper shade of green, and Jorgan saw red. He didn’t need this added stress on top of everything else and contemplated finding a reason to ground the girl until he got home. He’d      definitely     need to speak to Elara.

 Fynta slid into Jorgan’s lap, looping one arm around his neck while he sorted through the boys Shillet’s age on base. “How was the movie?”

 “It was fine, stupid actually.” Shillet crossed the room to put her supplies away, calling out to the comm she’d left behind. “I thought I might help unload the ships. A bunch of kids work there on the weekends for school passes.”

     What’s his name,    lingered at the back of Jorgan’s throat, but Fynta answered instead. “Take Tranx and Zula. Those two have been going stir crazy.” Fynta’s smirk turned devious. “I think Torian does some maintenance there too.”

 “Torian,” Jorgan heard himself say before he could stop it. A sense of relief washed over him at the knowledge that Shillet’s crush was on a man who would never take advantage of her. Not to mention, the Mandalorian chief was head over heels for Fynta’s pet Jedi. Once more, Jorgan was struck by the startling realization that he trusted Mandalorians with his most precious people than anyone else.

 Fynta carried on without acknowledging Jorgan, but Shillet dropped her head enough that a couple of tendrils fell across her face. “Listen, if it’s a boy’s attention you’re after, you’ve got to show them that you’re serious.” Fynta nudged Jorgan with a grin. “Blow something up.”

 Jorgan stood, dropping Fynta onto the floor from her perch on his thighs. She laughed, and Shillet did her best to hide a smile. Jorgan ignored them both. “On that note, please don’t take dating advice from Fynta.” He avoided any mention of motherhood. Neither woman took the insinuation well, and he didn’t want to upset the comfortable rhythm that they’d found.

 Fynta cupped her hands to her mouth, amplifying her voice while still sitting on the floor. “It worked on your father.”

 “Okay.” Shillet dragged the word out and leaned forward. “I’m going to go eat dinner. See you when you get home.”

 The call ended, and Fynta met Jorgan’s glare with a bright smile. “What? She knows that I was kidding.”

 “Does she?” Jorgan held out one hand, pulling Fynta upright with a grunt. “What if she believed you?”

 “It was a joke, Riduur.” Fynta patted Jorgan’s cheek and stepped away. “She’s practically an adult,      and    you and Elara raised her well. Give the girl some breathing room.”

 Jorgan clenched his fists and followed, looming so that Fynta knew that he was serious. “She’s thirteen, that’s not an adult.”

 “It is by my standards.” Fynta turned to open one of the drawers and began counting ammo magazines.

 Jorgan hadn’t intended to lash out, but before he understood his own actions, his fingers were wrapped around Fynta’s bicep, and she stared wide-eyed into his face. “Shillet isn’t Mandalorian.”

 Jorgan knew the growled words hurt. He wanted to regret them, but he couldn’t. Still, he should have chosen a better way to say them. “Fynta—”

 “You’re right,” Fynta interrupted, placing her hand over his. Jorgan’s fingers loosened under the unspoken threat. He hadn’t gripped her hard, but Fynta wouldn’t tolerate being handled in such a manner, nor should she.

 Lifting his hands, Jorgan let go of his wife and stepped away. “I’m sorry.”

 “I will never push anything you are uncomfortable with.” Fynta touched Jorgan’s cheek again, but it was fleeting. “She’s      your     daughter.” And like that, the familial moment shattered.

 Fynta put space between them, and Jorgan didn’t feel right about closing it yet. With a sigh, he plopped onto the bed and ran a hand over his head.  “I don’t want to fuck this up anymore than I already have.” He chanced a glance at Fynta, waiting until she met his eyes. “Any of it.”

 Fynta dropped the magazine she’d checked back into the box, then knelt in front of Jorgan. “You and I, we’re always good.” She pressed a quick kiss to Jorgan’s lips. “And, Shillet is a great kid.”

 Again, Fynta pulled away before Jorgan could reply. Her nails scraped over his scalp as she headed for the door, towards her escape. “I’m going to check on Verin, he took a nasty knock to the head. See you in a bit.”

 “I’ll be here,” Jorgan answered, but his wife was already gone. With a snarl, Jorgan flopped onto the bed and glared at the ceiling. With everything he cared for close by, why did Jorgan still feel like his world was falling apart?

The Thunderclap En Route to Odessen Conference Room    “How about a drink, Fyn’ika?” Verin pressed his palms into the table across from where Fynta stared through a holomap. She was parsecs away, lost in a way he’d seen before. She blinked, focusing on him through whatever thoughts occupied her attention. Verin flashed a crooked grin and lifted a couple of dark bottles. “Come on, vod’ika. I smuggled in some netra’gal.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me that on the way      to    fighting the voidspawn?” Fynta leaned across the table to snatch one of the Mandalorian specialties and twisted the top off by brute force. “I could use a decent drink about now.”

 Spinning around one of the deck mounted chairs, Verin straddled the seat and watched his sister. “So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or do I have to drag it out of Jorgan?”

 Fynta lowered her drink and rubbed her eyes. “The old bastard is talking again.” She tapped her temple. “He’s scared of Vaylin, and was      not     happy about our trip to Nathema. And, I’ve got this headache from hell thanks to all of the Force suppression stuff. I can only imagine how Lana feels.”

 Verin propped his elbows on the chair back and settled in to let his sister talk herself in circles. Fynta didn’t disappoint. She spun her bottle in a lazy circle on the table. “I’d hoped that Arcann would join us, but he’s not confident in his ability to resist Nathema’s pull. Probably a good thing now that I’ve been there.” Without warning, Fynta thumped her head against the table. “And, Aric’s mad at me again.”

 “Why now?” Verin asked, taking another sip. He let the sweet liquid warm him from the inside, steeling his nerves for the tough conversation to come.

 “Mostly because I’m osik around kids.” Fynta gestured around the room without lifting her face from the table. Her words were muffled against the false wood polish. “It’s one of the rare moments when we can’t see eye to eye on anything.”

 “I’ve been meaning to ask how that was going?” Verin expected some hiccups while Fynta tried to find her place in Shillet’s life, but the pushback from Aric surprised him. Verin supposed some things couldn’t span the gaps between their cultures. That had never been a problem for them because they hadn’t planned on having children. The galaxy had a way of turning people’s plans inside out. Verin knew that better than most.

 When Fynta looked up, it was with a violent shake of her head. “No, we’re not doing that.” She chugged the netra’gal, then smacked her lips. “New topic.”

 “Okay.” Verin took a drink, dragging the silence out to let the annoyance drain from Fynta before continuing. “What’s happened since Darvannis?” She’d had the coveted lust for life then. She fought and loved and laughed. Perhaps she still did, but it sounded hollow.

 Fynta shrank into herself, knees curling against her chest and chin propped on them like when she was just a skinny kid. “You gave me Cinlat’s haalas gaid, armor that she lived and died in. Of everything learned from her time among Mandalorians, that was the only part that she truly loved.” Fynta offered a wry smile and tipped her head in Verin’s direction. “Apart from you.” The old sting of loss surfaced, but time had dulled the effect.

 Verin didn’t interrupt. He could see that Fynta was building to her point, but had taken the long way around. Letting out a breath, Fynta plopped her chin back on her knees and hugged them closer. Once again the little girl from that night so long ago when it became just the two of them against the galaxy.

 “I’m not Mando’ade anymore, Verin.” The words felt like a blow to his stomach. He wanted to argue or snort in disagreement, but made himself stay silent. If he spoke too soon, she’d shut down.

 “I’ve been thinking about it,” Fynta continued. “The Resol’nare is as close to a religion as we have. How many do I follow? Speaking the language, sure. Wearing the armor, I am now thanks to your gift. I’m bred to fight, but I won’t answer the call of the Mand’alor.” Fynta snorted. “Shab, she answers mine. And Shillet...I can’t force that decision on her. Not when her father is Cathar.”

 Verin nodded. “Have you two discussed it? Shillet, I mean.”

 Shaking her head, Fynta seemed to remember the beer in her hands and drained half the bottle in one pull. Sighing, she smacked her lips. “We’ve tiptoed around it, but Aric being her father doesn’t make me the girl’s mother. She’s got Elara for that. The woman raised that child. I’m...a friend. Shillet respects my authority and no longer believes that I’m a danger to Aric’s happiness, but it’s different.”

 Fynta shrugged, then drained the rest of the bottle. “I’m not a Republic soldier, not a Mandalorian, not a mother. What am I?”

 “You’ve forgotten the spirit of mandokarla. Life fluctuates, and we evolve. Are the ones who are forced into the ba'slan shev'la less Mando’ade than the ones who remain in society?”

 “No, but—” Fynta’s eyes narrowed when Verin snapped his fingers.

 Leaning back, Verin laced them behind his head and grinned. “You’re overthinking it. It’s not always all or nothing. We work with what we’re given.”

 Fynta sighed. “Yeah.” Verin leaned forward and smacked her on the back of the head. She snarled a curse while rubbing it. “What the hell?”

 “Enough pity. Time to get back into life, Fyn’ika.” Verin dodged her response with a laugh. “You’ve got a husband and a daughter. Whatever happens with them is up to you, but it won’t turn out well if you don’t get back into it.”

 Fynta snorted and muttered an insult under her breath, but her eyes weren’t dull anymore. She stood and checked her wrist chrono. “Shab, I’ve got another meeting. Thanks for the drink, ori’vod.” Verin nodded, lifting his bottle in salute while she headed towards the door. Fynta stopped, speaking without looking back. “Hang around for a bit, if you can.”

 “I get to sleep through the night here,” Verin chuckled and made a show of settling into the cushions, legs kicked out and feet on the table. “I’m not giving that up without a fight.”

 Odessen        War Room

 Images of broken tanks and derelict walls floated in the center of the table. The conference room was full to bursting, with senior members in the chairs while those who came in later positioned themselves around the walls. Fynta stood towards the back, having seen Nathema in person. Murmurs drifted through the air, but she had heard it all before.

 “The question now is what to do with this information.” Lana waved a hand, pausing the holo on the image of destruction left by Vaylin’s escape.

 “Is it relevant?” Zolah asked. The woman had her menagerie of men surrounding her, each wearing a furrowed brow specific to them. When every eye turned on the Chiss spy, she gestured at the image. “Whatever power that place had over Vaylin is broken. Does this information serve as anything beyond telling us that she is not only psychotic, but no longer leashed?”

 More murmurs. Fynta had theories, but she wasn’t ready to share them. Aric stood stiffly at her side, his fingers flexing around an invisible object. Fynta would need to look into whatever was troubling the Cathar later. For the moment, she counted down the time her presence was required before it would be rude to slip away.

 “You’ve been ignoring me.” Valkorion stood at Fynta’s side, startling a curse from her. The old Sith smiled in his demure way and nodded at the image. “Did you learn anything of…value?”

 For whatever reason, Valkorion had been unable to follow Fynta into the vault that protected her small party from Vaylin’s wrath. It had left her chilled, as if the ghost of Valkorion was a separate heat source instead of cold death. Fynta had learned plenty in those sprawling catacombs, and none of it surprised her.

 “Only that you’re as bad of a father as you are a benevolent ruler.” Fynta folded her arms and refused to look at him.

 Valkorion sighed while the meeting carried on around Fynta. She was surprised that the old bastard hadn’t stopped time again. “Vaylin needed to be controlled.”

 “She was your kid,” Fynta snapped. “As far as childhoods go, that was one of the shittiest I’ve ever seen., and I’ve seen some bad ones”

 “You aren’t considering a charity case, I hope.” It took Fynta a few seconds to realize that Lana’s barb was directed at her. When she glanced to her right, Valkorion was gone.

 Instead of trying to explain that Fynta hadn’t been talking to the collected group, she rolled with it. “Of course not. Mad dogs need to be put down.” Lana gave a quick jerk of her head, but Fynta wasn’t done. “Let’s keep in mind that this is a child who never grew up. Valkorion kept her chained in agony for years. It’s no wonder she went insane. Whatever our course of action, let’s make it quick and as clean as possible.” With that, Fynta pushed away from the wall and walked out. She was done with meetings and talking circles around a problem that none of them knew how to deal with.

 As expected, Aric fell into step at Fynta’s side. “You feeling sorry for her?”

 Fynta lifted a shoulder. “There’s not a lot standing in between Vaylin and any one of us ending up just like her. A push in the right direction, and we all go feral.”

 “Not everyone.” Aric bumped Fynta’s shoulder, and she forced a smile so that he’d know she appreciated his faith in her. Valkorion hummed in the recesses of Fynta’s mind. It felt like a fly buzzing around her head, the melody too quiet to pick out, but she      knew     it was there.

 Shillet waited at the door when Fynta and Aric got home. The smell of food hit Fynta’s stomach like a punch, but it was Aric who voiced their mingled surprise. “What’s all this?”

 “Dinner,” Shillet answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Which, Fynta supposed it was. The Nautolan girl skipped to the table where an assortment of meats and vegetables that didn’t normally go together waited. She offered a wide, sharp grin. “These are the only things that I know how to make.”

 “It looks good,” Aric laughed while ruffling the girl’s head tresses. Fynta made a mental note to teach her a few Mandalorian staples to sneak into her father’s meals.

 The night carried on in companionable conversation. Fynta finally let herself relax long enough to invite Cormac, Tayl, and Elara over for a few drinks. The kids vanished into Shillet’s room, leaving the adults sitting around the table like old times. Fynta heaved a steadying breath and told herself that Vaylin could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was for family.

[tishinada]

Dance in the Shadow of Honor, Chapter 53 - “Falling Ashes”

(lovely art of Ucevi and Quinn by Sleepwithvillains!)

Summary: Ucevi knew exactly who she was and how her life should have gone. Powerful, arrogant, strong in the Force, born to a Pure-blood family whose lineage stretched back past the settlement of Dromund Kaas, past the start of the Great Hyperspace War. True Sith. Then in a moment, everything changed, and she was forced to play a role, blackmailed into becoming the sword in someone else’s battle. She walked a fine line between her duty to the Empire in the shape of her detestable master and the honor of her family and its Shadows…until she could reclaim her name and freedom.

Then she met Quinn who had the same sense of duty to the Empire that she did and a stubborn sense of honor as tenacious as her own. A man with a debt of honor to the very master she had bargained to destroy, who was clearly meant to be a weapon to be used against her, in more ways than one. But caution couldn’t prevent their growing respect, trust, and attraction, leaving each to struggle with the question of whether they could both find a way to fulfill honor and survive.

Notes:    Mostly canon retelling with my own twists. Slow burn. Baras dies, obviously. Probably not that graphic, but cautious. Profanity. May eventually change to explicit rating. Most characters belong to Bioware. Ucevi, Joran, Toth’Anla, Toth’Onira, Tan’Koto, the Old Man, Sgt. Fesnil, Zusae, RSD-13, and the Parits are all my OCs.

Surprise! Not quite 8 days between updates!

This chapter co-written with @cinlat, which has been SO much fun! After all, who else can bring a Mandalorian cantina and bar brawl to life so well? Also much thanks for the loan of one of her Mandalorians from Meet me on the Battlefield...

(Also, lots of thanks to @cinlat and @sleepswithvillains for comments, brainstorming and just for being so supportive!)

Pairings: Quinn x f!sith warrior, f!sith warrior x others

Warnings: possibly graphic violence. Profanity. Some explicit language.

>>>>>>>>>

Chapter 53 - “Falling Ashes”

Quinn hesitated, staring at the door to Trovas Chwûk for a long moment before steeling himself and pushing it open.

At least this early, there are unlikely to be many Sith-blood customers being served. I think I might lose my nerve if I had to ask within their hearing.

Just inside, a young Twi’leki woman was inspecting the gleaming wood of a table in the empty dining room while a pair of droids were cleaning and polishing other tables. She glanced up in surprise at the sound of the door, eyes widening. Odd. I noticed before that some of their staff seemed uneasy with me.

“Excuse me, but I wondered if I might speak to one of the owners or managers with a request? Or rather, a question?”

The woman hesitated, then nodded silently, tapping something into an odd wrist unit. She pointed at a carved bench near the door, indicating that he could wait there. How odd. She hasn’t spoken a single word. Like our server the other night.

The young woman vanished through one of the doorways as he settled on the bench, feeling rather like a cadet called to the commandant’s office for unknown reasons. In fact, he had to stop himself from checking his uniform nervously or sitting at attention. Or bolting. 

I...this was impulsive. But I want...I need to do something for Ucevi for Lifeday, to thank her for that lovely evening at the opera. I know she would enjoy this, and I can’t think of anything else. She and Apprentice Zas have plans for most of the day, so this is the perfect opportunity.

Read more at AO3

[cinlat]

Reactions to Fynta’s grin...

““““What did you do!?!”“““

[cinlat]

Wolfe siblings

Pretty sure Verin won a bet. Now Fynta has to pay up.

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 18 (End Times)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Vaylin Attacks! Everyone else scrambles.

Chapter Word Count: 5,237 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Vector, Malavai Quinn, Torian Cadara, Vette, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar/Wolfe, Tranx Vaak, Elara Dorne, Arcann, Senya, Vaylin, Balic Cormac, Darth Kozen, Master Kaeto Vaa, and special appearance by @kunoichi-ume Noara Starspark. And probably others that I've forgotten...

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Odessen War Room 03:55 Hours

"Squads two and four to Alpha Quadrant Three. Seven and Ten, you're needed on the landing dock to clear the wreckage. And would someone shut off those fucking alarms?" Zolah didn't look up from her monitor while divvying out orders. To her right, Vector communicated with the medical staff, organizing and dispatching as needed based on the reports pouring in and security footage. Theron huddled at his desk, talking in short sentences with Fynta while she dressed in full view of the camera.

Quinn appeared at Zolah's back, brushing the tips of his fingers against the back of her arm before speaking. It was a friendly warning that he was in her blind spot. "Electrical grids for floors one and two have been damaged by orbital bombardment. I've cut power to the lower levels under construction and routed everything to the infirmaries."

"Good work." Quinn hadn't become Zolah's lover, but they'd developed a professional friendship with Vector at their center. She trusted the man and Vector's judgment. "News on the Enclave?"

"Unharmed. I've tasked units with escorting the young and injured there for safekeeping." Quinn tapped his datapad, then looked up. "It should be deep enough in the mountain to withstand the worst of the assault."

Though Zolah didn't fancy children of her own, the galaxy was nothing without a generation to leave it to. It eased something in her chest knowing that they would be protected. Then, Zolah wondered if that meant she'd gone soft. Maybe she was just getting old.

"Fynta's on her way to the surface." Theron appeared by Quinn's side. Any unease between the men vanished under the chaos of battle. "Torian is leading a group of Mandalorians into the forest, and we have pockets of Force Users taking charge of ground troops."

Zolah flicked the monitor in front of her. The crack down the middle gave it a double image, but there was no mistaking the dropships unloading hundreds of Skytroppers. She sighed and pointed at Quinn. "Make sure we have access to all armor cams. I want a full view of the battlefield."

Quinn saluted and strode off. The man never ran, he never increased his speed so far that Zolah could tell, but he had a certain walk that warned people to stand aside or fall in line. He snapped off orders, sending runners to pass along the frequency all ground troops should tune their cameras to.

Zolah watched the man, grateful for his professionalism, then her gaze fell on Theron. He forced a weak smile. "Just like old times, huh?"

There was no need to ask what Theron meant. Zolah's chuckle ended in a sigh. "We did it on Yavin IV, we'll do it here."

Odessen Commander's Quarters

"I won't be able to join you." Aric's sighed words through Fynta's helmet almost made her stumble. When she'd rushed for the door, still pulling on her armor, Aric had turned in the opposite direction. He was going to get Shillet because that was his first duty as a father. Fynta's was to protect the base.

They'd sworn to meet once Aric was sure that Shillet was safe. Something must have happened to delay him. "Everything okay, riduur?" Fynta asked, focusing her attention back to the lumbering hunk of machinery beneath her. Bolts pinged off the walker's shell, and then the self-destruct of a sky trooper underfoot teetered her to one side. The Walker dropped back onto both legs with a jarring crunch that drove a curse from Lana.

"Ran into some trouble on my way out of the base," Aric answered. His breath puffed in between words. "I'm taking up a sniping position in the ridge overlooking the landing bay. Fighting is pretty thick there."

"Understood." Fynta had known when they promised to stay together in those dark, silent hours of the night that it was a lie. Aric was a soldier. More than that, he was a protector. He would go where he was needed. That wasn't presently by Fynta's side. "Lana and I are nearly at the Gravestone. We'll link up with Sonya and Arcann, then get the Gravestone free to join the fight in the atmosphere."

Silence met Fynta's plan, then her husband sighed. "Stay safe." Aric didn't like her working with Arcann. Fynta wasn't thrilled about the prospect either. That man had single-handedly turned her life, and the lives of those she loved, into a steaming pile of osik for years. But, Fynta never turned down an advantage. Right now, the contrite emperor owed her a debt, and she planned to collect.

"There." Lana gripped the back of the pilot's seat and leaned forward. Fynta followed her finger to the slash of gold and blue against the darkness of the Gravestone's hull. She didn't say goodbye to Aric, she never did. But he knew; she'd spent all night being sure that he knew.

The walker came to a grinding halt at the bottom of the narrow ramp leading to the Gravestone's perch. The ship was too big to keep close to the base, so they'd chosen a cliffside to dock it at. That seemed like poor planning now. Skytroopers swarmed the grating, threatening to overrun the Zakuulan Knight and her spawn.

Fynta flipped the lever to open the hatch, then unbuckled herself from the driver's seat. Without a word, Lana pulled the hilt from her belt and stepped into the opening in the floor. She landed with the practiced skill of a Force user, then darted into the fray. Fynta, being a mere mortal, grabbed the slender handrails and slid down the ladder that extended to the ground.

Lana had left a trail of broken droid parts, making tracking the Sith's progress simple. Fynta took potshots while she ran, finishing the crippled skytroopers that Lana hadn't bothered with. By the time Fynta reached the top of the ramp, the three were fighting in a tight circle formation.

The display of power impressed even Fynta. Arcann was the former emperor and galaxy conqueror, and Senya a vaunted Zakuulan Knight of legend. But Lana, with her quiet smiles and subtle manipulations, shined brighter than both when she finally displayed her full capacity for destruction.

The Sith woman leapt into the air, releasing a Force wave strong enough to topple trees when she landed. The remaining enemies were flung off the edge of the cliff and into the abyss beyond. Then, she straightened, fixed her hair, and nodded. "That takes care of that. What next, Commander?"

Docking clamps groaned free, and the Gravestone lifted into the night. Koth let out a gleeful shout over the comms. "Time to see what these new upgrades can do."

Fynta watched them go, then turned to the rest of her group. "The fighting has spread across the surface. Let's fix that."

"We will fight with you until the end." Arcann's gravelly voice carried a hint of emotion that Fynta almost pitied. She was sure the man cared for his baby sister in some capacity. It remained to be seen if he could hold up his end of the bargain.

Fynta looked at Senya, the real concern when it came to Vaylin. The woman had already betrayed them once by saving Arcann instead of letting him face justice. So far, it had worked in their favor. Fynta doubted they would be so lucky with Vaylin. "You saw what Valkorion did to your daughter?"

Senya winced. Fynta brought up the familial link to gauge the woman's reaction. The older woman didn't hide how difficult this was. With a dejected sigh, Senya met Fynta's gaze. "Valkorion destroyed what was left of my daughter long ago." The dead emperor chuckled in the back of Fynta's mind but otherwise stayed silent. He was enjoying this family drama.

Pulling her shoulders straight, Senya looked Fynta in the eyes. "Vaylin must be stopped."

"You need to draw her out," Arcann suggested, switching the military commander he'd once been. "Bring her to the surface."

Theron's voice cut through Fynta's helmet comm. "Sana-Rae just flanked the enemy, but she could use some more firepower."

Fynta nodded to Lana. The woman hesitated only a moment, her gaze flickering between Senya and Arcann, before darting down the bridge leading deeper into the wild. Her comm chirped again, and Torian's voice echoed through her helmet. "We're getting hammered over here, could use another vod."

Fynta checked Torian's position in the feed that Zolah had linked to her helmet. He was near the front lines. That didn't surprise her. "On the way."

As Fynta turned, Arcann joined her. She spared him a glance, and the man simply shook his head. "You will not face her alone." Fynta almost ordered him to stay, then decided against it. Her gut warned that she would need these two before the end.

Odessen Command Center Force Enclave

Cormac had three children clinging to him, and none of them were his son. Instead, Tayl stood by Shillet, who had started a game of jacks with a few of the tween kids. The younger ones looked on, learning from the mistakes of their elders. Meanwhile, the older kids, the ones who stood on the cusp of adulthood, paced with the relentless stride of a caged manka cat. Most were the Mandalorians that Verin had brought along, so it wasn't a surprise that they itched for battle.

Twice, Cormac had broken up a group of teens who had their heads together, casting keen glances at the exits. He had his eye on Tranx's girl at the moment. Zula barely reached Cormac's elbow, but she had the makings of a leader, unfortunately, it was the young and dumb sort, at the moment.

"Shhh, it's alright." Noara rocked a whimpering toddler, bouncing the boy on her hip. He curled closer when the thumps from above scattered dirt from the Enclave ceiling. Sana-Rae had requested the space be reinforced, but left as natural as possible to help the Force users meditate. It was a beautiful place with the rugged appeal of a long-forgotten cavern. It also gave the impression of instability when bits of the roof broke away and landed among the frightened children.

Then, there was Tayl. Cormac couldn't believe how big the boy had gotten. How much he didn't cling to Elara when she ran out the door with her medical bag. The resignation in those big, grey eyes when he took Cormac's hand for the trip down to the shelter. That was far more worrying than the cries and occasional screams of his peers.

Tayl's entire life had been war. Even when he and Shillet went to the best schools, they'd fought against their parents' reputations and struggled under the weight of those shadows. To Tayl, this wasn't the potential end of their brief moment of happiness, but the simple truth of life. He didn't cry, because all of his tears were gone.

The same could be said for Shillet. She remembered bits of her life before Havoc found her on that wrecked mudball of a planet. She'd won and lost so many battles that now all the girl did was survive. They might all perish in Vaylin's assault, and that was fine because it had always been a possibility.

"Are we missing some?" Noara stood on her toes, scanning the room. "I swear there were—oh no."

Cormac saw it at the same time. The Mandalorian teens were gone. He'd looked away for a second to consider his failure as a father and fucked it up again. "I'll find them."

Noara helped Cormac peel the skinny arms and legs from his body, only for them to latch onto her. She must have been using the Force to prop them all up because there was no way that tiny woman could support all of their weight. He made a placating motion at the Jedi as he backed through the throng of kids. "I'll bring them back."

The last thing Cormac saw as he snatched his rifle from beside the door was the resignation in his son's eyes.

Odessen External Docking Site Alpha

"We need more light," the medic to Elara's right complained. He was right, but they couldn't risk it. Not so close to the front lines.

"Night vision will have to do." The chrono in Elara's helmet told her that less than thirty minutes had passed since the first blaring siren, yet their triage had outgrown the medical tents.

Yuun carried the tail end of a stretcher, having volunteered to leave the confines of the base's intelligence command to aid his friend. They stopped beside Elara so that she could examine the boy. He was Mandalorian, barely older than the group that Verin had brought to Odessen. Her stomach churned at the thought that this could have been one of the children from Torian's clan. Verin's son.

Shaking those dark thoughts away, Elara scanned him and was relieved to find only a shattered foot. He'd lose it more than likely, but that could be replaced. "This one isn't critical, mark him blue and have the medics there administer a sedative. His fight is done."

Yuun tipped his head, then looked up at the sky. Flashes of light in the upper atmosphere, weapons fire between ships, looked like lightning in the clouds. "Many have fallen," her old friend clicked. "But, the way remains clear."

"Of course." Elara pulled her attention back to the surface, to the people who needed aid. Yuun was right. There was work to do on the surface.

The pair staggered towards the medical tents for the severely wounded but not fatal. Eara felt a familiar presence at her back and turned to find Malavai Quinn staring at the sky. She didn't know how to feel about the man. He'd made his opinion of deserters known from the beginning, labeling himself as one of the few people in the galaxy that her husband wouldn't try to befriend.

"Something isn't right." A line appeared between Quinn's brows. Elara looked up and saw the same thing he did. The lightning had stopped, and the clouds above the base began to boil.

Before Elara could register the danger, Quinn cursed and spun towards the captivated crowds. "Get the wounded inside, now!"

The first bolt struck the ground half a klick away. Bright light blinded Elara, she felt a bone-rattling tremor in the ground, then sound and pressure tossed dirt into her faceplate. Instinct kicked in, and Elara wrapped herself around Quinn, the closest unarmoured being. She'd barely recovered when another round struck further away.

"Orbital bombardment," Quinn stated from beneath Elara. He seemed unfazed that they were half buried in loose dirt with the weight of her armor bearing down on him. He wiped grit from his face and squinted into the sky. Had their lives taken different paths, Elara could have respected this man.

Elara pushed herself off Quinn and stood, she needed to pick a direction and move before more damage could be done. To her surprise, Quinn grabbed her arm. When Elara looked back, his face was open and earnest. "I have medical training. Put me to use."

"Get the wounded closest to the base inside and begin triaging any fresh injuries." Malavai nodded and released Elara. She had a direction now. He could handle the medical tents. Elara needed to get into the field. She turned and chose people at random, three Mandalorians and one Imperial soldier. Then, she took the medical kits off the nearest orderlies. "Men, we have comrades to rescue."

Odessen Skytrooper Landing Position Beta

Verin lifted Cinlat's old blasters and felt her soul in the kick of each shot. She'd have enjoyed this, he thought, taking down mechs instead of flesh and blood. For all her ruthlessness, Cinlat had never savored a kill. She'd done her job, and she'd done it efficiently. Skytroopers, however, now they were fun. Verin loved the little self-destructive pop that wrecked the machinery.

"Enemy ambush cut us off." Torian's voice wheezed through the speakers in Verin's helmet. There was pain in each word, and it stole any delight that Verin had found in battle. "I'm the only one left. Position's about to be overrun."

"Almost there, Torian." Fynta had started running, Verin could tell by the bounce in her tone. He pulled up a map that marked the members of Clan Cadera, then noted dots that marked Fynta's approach. Torian wasn't far, Verin could beat his sister there.

Turning, Verin took two steps when another group of markers caught his attention. His blood turned to ice even as he opened a line. "Boy, tell me you are not this stupid."

"Had to do our part, buir." Blaster fire and wild shouts overlaid Tranx's response. He was supposed to be in the Enclave with the rest of the young, not out here with—

The ground rose beneath Verin's feet, making him weightless for a split second before slamming him back to the ground. Tranx's cry was the only thing that kept Verin's wits about him even while his ears rang. "Hold on, son."

Verin scrambled up a newly formed hill of silt and mud. When he reached the top, the world was on fire. Dizziness pulled at him, but Verin shoved it aside and focused on the life signs of his son and those stupid enough to leave the safety of the base. The ground gave way under Verin's boots as he slid down the other side. What had been solid dirt seconds ago felt like rolling in sand.

When he reached the group of verd'ika, he did a quick head count. One was missing, but the rest were on their feet. Verin spotted Tranx's helmet and stormed towards him. The boy saw him coming, and even being a head taller, backed away and held up his hands. Verin grabbed his son's pauldrons and smacked their helmets together. He held him in that embrace long enough to swallow the lump in his throat. "Are you alright?"

"Think so." Tranx's gloved fingers dug into the grooves of Verin's chest plate like they had when he was young. It was the only indication of how shaken the boy was.

Verin released his son and addressed the rest of the group. "Weapons hot, do not hesitate to take the shot. You stay on my back and you keep up. Is that understood?"

Helmets nodded and the kids pulled into a tighter formation. Zula, in her white and orange armor and barely tall enough to touch Tranx's shoulder, stepped up beside Verin. "Lead on."

Verin took the long way to Torian. They were as close to their injured alor as they were to the base, and Verin saw no reason to leave Torian to die alone. By the time they reached the spot on Verin's map, Fynta had arrived with an unlikely escort. Arcann straightened, pulling his blade from a downed knight.

A bolt shot past Verin's shoulder, only to be deflected by Senya. The older woman glared, and Verin turned to find Zula's rifle pressed to her shoulder. As if sensing his gaze, the girl shrugged. "You said not to hesitate." Verin smacked the back of Zula's helmet, but inside, he beamed with pride.

"Friends of yours?" Arcann rumbled as he hooked his now dormant weapon to his belt.

Fynta didn't look back as she tapped on an alien communications panel. "My brother, Verin, and his gangly host of young warriors. Nice shot, Zula."

"I see." Arcann said no more, but he and Senya both took several steps back, making room for the Mandalorians to crowd around Fynta.

Torian leaned against the panel, one arm wrapped around his middle and pointing at the screen. "That was the main comms array. Should get you all the way up to the ship."

"Good." Fynta had removed her helmet and finally looked up at Verin. "Keep everyone back and quiet." She pressed the screen, and evil appeared.

"Well, if it isn't Father's pet." The girl couldn't be older than sixteen, but Verin felt the hatred radiating off her holo. "I was just talking about you."

When Fynta answered, she sounded exasperated. "I have been up and down this battlefield looking for you. I can't believe you're cowering on a ship."

While Vaylin and Fynta traded barbs, Torian limped closer. "She'll be coming for your sister."

"Never doubted that." An odd peace settled over Verin. He had a feeling that Fynta would find a way to cheat death again because this time, she had family at her back. Torian tripped, and Verin caught him. "You going to live?"

"Probably." Torian's voice sounded more strained than before. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower."

Verin chuckled and slipped his friend's arm over his shoulder. "I'll have Noara get right on that."

"The longer you draw this out," Fynta said, arms folded over her chest and smug grin in place, "The more time my agents have to infiltrate your empire. That throne's as good as mine."

Vaylin let out a hellish screech and the image flickered out. Verin couldn't say he blamed the girl, he'd been on the receiving end of Fynta's shit eating grin more times than he wanted to count. If anyone could needle a person into a fight, it was his baby sister.

Turning away from the comm, Fynta's expression turned serious. "Time to shore up our defenses. It won't take Vaylin long to launch her next strike."

At last, Arcann joined the group, though Verin noted that he kept his hands clear of his weapon. "We are ready."

Odessen South Quadrant

Kozen lowered his blade as the last skytrooper fell. He sensed Kaeto on the other side of the trees, her blood singing with the joy of battle. It drove his higher, strengthening his muscles and his will.

"Hey. Hey, can anyone hear me?" The tiny voice rang from the comm on Kozen's belt. He'd lost himself to bloodlust, but Vette's anxious tone brought him back. Kozen palmed the device to find the small Twi'lek who had once shared his ship.

Vetty blew out a breath. "It's about time, big guy. I could use your help."

"Where are you?" There was never a doubt that Kozen would go to her. Vette had softened his heart once, a reason why he'd sent her away. Spoiling the girl, is what Quinn had called it. Though the traitorous bastard had little room to lecture Kozen on the merits of command.

"South Quadrant." Vette popped up over a broken speeder and fired her blasters. "Getting real low on ammo here."

"We are on our way." Kozen ended the call and began running. Before long, Kaeto sprinted by his side, their Force-enhanced strength driving them faster than should be possible.

Though Kozen had never understood why, Kaeto often moved with her eyes shut, sensing the world around her. He supposed it had something to do with Notiac's teachings. A Mirialukan could not help but describe the Force in a different way than sighted beings.

Keato's eyes popped open. "She's close."

Kozen didn't question his lover's ability. She took the lead, and he followed. Together, they vaulted downed walkers and tore through straggling Skytroopers. A pang of, not fear, but sadness caressed Kozen's mind. It wasn't until they broke through the foliage that he understood why.

Vette's feet kicked uselessly in the air. Time seemed to slow down as Kozen took in the multitude of Zakulaan Knights and the woman standing at their center. Vaylin turned a wicked smile on them even as Kaeto drew her blades.

"You're not who I was expecting." Vaylin released Vette, letting the gasping Twi'lek collapse without warning. Kozen took only a second to note that she was breathing before shifting his focus back to Vaylin.

"I recognize you." The girl folded one arm around her middle and pointed at each of them with lackadaisical ease. First at Kaeto, then Kozen. "You're the one who killed father the first time, or so I'm told. And you, you were his Wrath." Vaylin chuckled. "What a useless title."

Kaeto's muscles tensed, and Kozen felt it in his own. They were in sync, one mind in separate bodies. He knew she was going to strike before she moved, and his reflexes followed. Vaylin's eyes widened for the span of a heartbeat, then Kozen was hurdling backwards. His back slammed into an overturned communications relay and pain stabbed through his right side.

Pushing himself upright, Kozen looked down to find his fingers coated with blood. Kaeto saw, and her eyes met his. "I'll see you in the beyond," she called over the roar of Vaylin's building Force. A smile touched her lips, and Kozen remembered this from the vision they'd shared one silent evening. The night Kaeto had finally let him in.

Kozen dipped his head. "In the beyond." There were other things that he wanted to say, but Kaeto knew them already. He'd held nothing back from this strange, alien woman who should be his enemy. They were two sides of the same coin, hopelessly entangled in a fate bigger than both.

There was nothing left for Kozen to lose. He would die beside his soulmate, a perfect equal. Kaeto leaped towards Vaylin with a guttural cry, paving the way for Kozen's attack. His legs already felt weak, his life's blood dampening the fabric of his pant leg. With a final surge of hatred from the Dark Side, Kozen followed Kaeto for the last time. Run, Vette. He sent the thought to the Twi'lek as he passed, moving sluggishly in that moment of pure clarity that comes with a final battle. Vette didn't hesitate, and Kozen didn't see where she went.

The agony of Kaeto's death could not be compared to anything Kozen had experienced before. She had been a vital part of him for so long, that the abrupt severing of their link left ripples in the Force that struck Kozen like physical blows. The golden light that warmed him snuffed out, leaving only cold rage in its place. He would not live through this battle, he refused to. His place was in the Force, beside Kaeto. Kozen would die to give Vette time to escape, but mostly, he would die to be reunited with his soul.

Odessen South Face of Mt. Ne'johaa

Jorgan turned away with a hiss. The image of Kozen's body, impaled by Vaylin's golden blade, his bloody sneer when his fingers closed on nothing but air, was burned into Jorgan's mind. Steeling himself, he looked back down the scope. It had all happened too fast, and Jorgan had never had a clear shot. He panned the scene, noting Kaeto's crumpled body at the Sith's feet.

Vaylin lowered her weapon and watched Kozen slide lifeless to the dirt. Then, she turned and shouted at her men. Jorgan couldn't hear the orders from this distance, but they no doubt included finding Fynta. She stormed into the forest while two sets of Knights gathered the once proud Sith and Faithful Jedi's corpses.

Until that moment, Jorgan had held out hope that they could beat Vaylin. They would turn away her attack because it only made sense for good to win. After seeing the almost casual way she'd dispatched two of the most powerful Force users in the known galaxy, Jorgan doubted. Even Fynta's indomitable stubbornness was no match for the unbridled hatred that fueled Vaylin.

Jorgan had repressed the urge all night to call his wife, now he didn't hesitate. "Fynta, you read?"

"Loud and clear, Riduur." Metal groaned in the background, and Fynta's maniacal chuckle gave Jorgan something solid to hold onto. "How are things on your end?"

Guilt tugged at Jorgan. He was supposed to have met her an hour ago, but circumstances kept detouring him. He looked back down his scope, noting the absence of Kaeto and Kozen's bodies. The decision of whether or not to distract Fynta with their deaths made him hesitate long enough for Fynta's tone to turn worried.

"Fine," Jorgan answered when Fynta prompted again. "I'm up in the mountains, picking off what I can. You?"

"Stomping towards the landing bay in a stolen walker." Someone cursed in the background, a deep, masculine tone that set Jorgan's hackles up.

Jorgan barely controlled the growl in his voice. "Who was that?"

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that one, love." Jorgan could hear the grin in his wife's voice until she sighed. "Arcann and Senya are helping me. We're going to take Vaylin down once and for all."

"You can't." The shouted words tore from Jorgan before he could stop them. Cold silence answered, and Jorgan tried to reign in his panic. He couldn't let Fynta face Vaylin head on, not after what he'd just witnessed. "Are you sure you can trust them?"

It took a few more seconds for Fynta to reply. "Yes."

Jorgan heard the tone of command in Fynta's voice, the subtle reminder that right now, she was his superior and he needed to accept that. Aric blew out a breath. "I'll head that way and offer support. You don't have to do this alone."

"Thanks, Riduur." Fynta's voice softened. "Stay safe."

"You too, and hey, leave the line open, will you?" It wasn't something Jorgan would normally request, but dread tightened his stomach so much that he felt sick. If Fynta was going to her death, he was going to damn well be in her ear. Jorgan had to face the fact that he might lose her again. This time, he wasn't going to miss the chance to say goodbye."

Jorgan stood and had taken two steps towards the landing bay when Bey'wan's growl filled his helmet. "Oggurobb's position is overrun, we need any available troops to cover their retreat."

"Sound like another detour," Fynta teased while the information filled Jorgan's HUD. "I'll be waiting for you."

"You better be." With a growled curse, Jorgan tore through the foliage in the opposite direction, away from his wife. Dropping onto his belly at the edge of the cliff, he sighted on the Skytroopers closest to the retreating forces. "Jorgan to ground troops. I've got your back."

[cinlat]

Miqo Brew

Fynta had stayed awake way too late and drank way too much for the amount of light spilling through her curtains. She slapped at the cloth, tangling the fabric around her fingers until it was impossible to deny that the sun had risen and so must she. Stretching, Fynta shook curtain free of her hand, then sighed at the pleasant collection of pops that traveled the length of her spine.

The bed was soft and smelled of whatever Keshal and Verin’s home normally smelled like. Bacon and coffee, Fynta decided as she buried her face in the plush pillow. She’d arrived late to their annual family dinner, meaning Fynta crashed at her brother’s house and ate his wife’s cooking for a few days in the name of sibling bonding. Keshal barely tolerated it, so Fynta made a habit of dragging Verin away for a few days to give the woman some time to decompress. However, he’d introduced his new concoction of alcohol and fruit, so she’d stayed and drank. It was only polite.

Fynta was deciding whether she wanted to stay in bed and enjoy not being responsible for anything or sneaking into the kitchen before Keshal claimed her domain. The shrill scream shattering Fynta’s peaceful contemplation made the choice for her, as Fynta was out of bed and dashing down the hall before checking to see if she’d gone to bed with clothes on. 

While used to her brother’s tumultuous relationship with his wife, Keshal’s fury brought Fynta to a skidding halt. The woman’s dark eye burned with wrath and her lips curled away from a pair of perfectly formed fangs. Fynta dumbly tried to make sense of the scene while Keshal flapped thin arms at her husband.

“What did you do?” The woman shrieked. Keshal’s braids quivered like writhing snakes, wild with their master’s rage.

Verin coward against the far wall. All Fynta could see of her brother was the wild tuft of brown hair and the placating hands lifted towards his wife. Fynta’s mind had barely grasped their odd shape when something lashed behind Keshal with the speed of a whip. Fynta must have made a noise, because the woman turned on her. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Fynta took a step back and mimicked her brother’s posture. She tried to figure out what this was while babbling that she had nothing to do with whatever had happened. The whip snapped again, and Fynta leaned around her sister-in-law. “You’ve got a tail.”

“I know I’ve got a bloody tail,” Keshal shouted, eyes squeezed shut in anger. “I’m a bloody cat.”

Spinning back to her husband, who had taken that moment to put more space between him and the angry female who now boasted an impressive set of claws, she jabbed one at him. “What in the seven hells did you do?”

“I didn’t think it would work,” Verin protested, keeping his hands raised. “The kobold said that it was called Fantasia potion, that it would give us a new outlook on life. You know, spice things up.” He glanced down at the clawed fingers of his own hands, then stuffed them behind his back. Fynta wondered if he’d noticed the ears yet.

“Spice things—" Keshal sputtered, folded her arms, raised one as if to slap Verin, then balled her hands into fists at her. “You bloody well fix this, Verin Wolfe. Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure that you feel the full wrath of my new outlook on life.”

Keshal spun on heal and shoved past Fynta as she stormed from the kitchen. The two, tufted ears now positioned on the top of Verin’s head wilted as she went. Fynta was still staring at them when her brother cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry.”

For the first time, Fynta looked down at her own body and wasn’t surprised to find that her nails were longer. Slowly, she reached up to run her fingers through her hair. As expected, they snagged in the same spot where her brother’s ears twitched uneasily. Fynta groaned. “Verin…”

“I can fix this,” Verin assured, patted the air between them. “I just need to find the kobold that sold it to me.”

“A traveling kobold caravan?” Fynta started to fold her arms, then thought better of it. She had no idea what these new additions to her anatomy would do to her own flesh. She was about to follow up the question that had been forming when something heavy thumped against her leg. Just jumped, spinning in a circle to see the thing that had touched her.

Verin chuckled, and Fynta stopped to glare at the infuriating man. The thing bumped her again, and Fynta snatched it before she could think better of the action. A strange tingling that bordered on pain shot through Fynta’s spine and into her belly. She yelped and let go, only realizing that the irritant was a dark blonde and exceedingly fluffy tail. She should have expected it, but the sight of the thrashing appendage stunned her all the same.

Heavy footsteps warned Fynta to press herself against the wall a beat before Keshal returned, arms full of an old, leather duffle. The pack hit Verin with enough force to make him stagger back. Meanwhile, Keshal pointed between him and Fynta. “Don’t come back until you’ve got the cure.” With that, she stomped out again, leaving Verin and Fynta to fend for themselves.

Ten minutes later, with Fynta packed and Verin looking dejectedly at the heavy wooden door that had slammed in his face, they started towards the center of town.

Fynta squinted into the harsh, Thanalan sun, then at her brother. “Guess we’re getting breakfast on the road.”

Verin glared at Fynta, though the downward pitch of his ears and dragging tail—also fluffy in comparison to Keshal’s leonine shape--betrayed his real emotions. Fynta made a mental note to learn how to control that, she had perfected the art of lying as a hyur, but these new features would make that more difficult.

As if to remind her of the task, the warm weight of Fynta’s tail smacked the back of her knee. Maybe if she pouted as much as her brother, it would stop attacking her. Growing tired of the quiet, Fynta nudge her brother’s shoulder with the tip of one very pointed finger. He hissed, which Fynta decided not to comment on, batted her away. “So, how did this happen?” Verin bared his teeth, but that had never affected Fynta. She persisted. “I mean actually—literally—how did this all get started?”

“It’s a long story,” the man turned miqo’te muttered. Verin was a full head shorter now, but still had a couple of inches on Fynta. His gate had shifted from the swagger of a resistance man to the stalking motion of a predator.

Fynta made a show of looking around them if only to needle her brother more. “The caravan doesn’t appear to be here.”

“I know,” Verin snarled, temper edging into his voice.

Fynta tried again. “Do you know where they were headed?”

“No.” Verin bit off the word like he wished it was Fynta’s throat. She grinned at her seething brother.

“I guess that means we’ve got time.” Verin opened his mouth to snap back, but Fynta lifted her shoulders to jiggle the bag resting on them. “Indulge the little sister who snuck snacks and water out before your wife exiled us.”

Verin’s ears went from flat to straight forward. “You’ve got food?” Fynta widened her grin and watched her brother’s last defense collapse. “Okay fine.”

As it happened, Verin wasn’t as big of an idiot as Fynta suspected. The dose had been meant for her, which she’d have found hilarious, but he’d forgotten which drink was hers and had poured the fantasia potion into them all. He’d intended to collect his and Keshal’s before the drinking began but had gotten distracted—he wouldn’t say by what, though the tilt of his lips told Fynta all she needed to know—and had simply forgotten. So, he was still a proper idiot.

As the pair walked through the oasis town, Fynta watched the various vendors setting out their wares for the day. The aptly named Forgotten Springs was secluded enough require imports where the town’s income was derived from exporting the hides and meats from the local drake population.

Retiring to Forgotten Springs had been Keshal’s idea. They had all grown up in the Empire’s shadow, fighting to break free from tyranny. Whereas Verin and Fynta’s parents almost had escaped to Little Ala Mhigo, Keshal’s had been trapped in the city proper. Verin had been one of the resistance’s contacts with the underground. From what Fynta understood, they’d hated each other, until they didn’t. No one seemed to know when that line had been crossed.

Finally, Verin sighed. “She’ll forgive me, right?”

“Depends on if we find that cure.” Fynta stopped at the gate that would eventually lead to Ul’dah if they walked long enough. She paid the chocobo keeper for Cormac, patted the bird’s neck.

When Verin stared back the way they’d come, Fynta kicked his skin. She met his curse with a broad grin and gestured to the desert. “So, which way?”

I’m tagging @dingoat​ @tishinada​ @dimigex​ and @kunoichi-ume​ since you ladies knew this was coming. XD

[cinlat]

My 3 favorite dads 💙

[cinlat]

Happy Life Day from all my ocs to yours!

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 13 (Family Ties)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Cormac finally gets to feel useful again, Fynta's luck hasn't changed, and Verin has brought a whole new level of trouble to Odessen.

Chapter Word Count: 6,741 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Shillet Jorgan, Balic Cormac, Lana Beniko, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Notiac Carlo, Koth Vortena, Verin Ejnar, Tranx Vaak, Zula Dun, Torian Cadera 

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

*art by @dingoat​

 Odessen  Five Days Later  Commander's Quarters

"Stop whining." Fynta stood in the silent bedroom, but she could feel Aric's brooding from the kitchen.

The Cathar had thought of another complaint that morning. Aric had been insufferable since Lana's revelation about his supposed Force sensitivity. His mood swung wildly between crippling guilt and agitation. Fynta had tolerated it for the first hour; now, she was ready to shove her husband at the nearest soldier and have them do drills until she could deal with him again.

Aric's response wafted up the stairs while Fynta plaited her hair. "It's a valid concern."

Fynta rolled her eyes and tied off the strands. "No, it's not." She tugged on a jacket and started for the main room where Shillet waited with her face buried in a datapad. Fynta beseeched the girl to make Aric see reason. "Will you tell your father that he's an accomplished sniper due to years of hard work, please? He won't listen to me."

The Nautolan snorted, managing to roll her entire face towards Aric. "Will it get me out the door faster?"

"Probably not." Aric tipped back a bottle of water and tossed one to the girl. Then, he pointed at Fynta. "What if Lana's right? It makes me a liability in the field."

Shillet and Fynta groaned as one. With fingers curled into her palms, Fynta took a deep breath and let it out. "It's never mattered before, so I don't see why it would become a problem now. Whether it's fifteen years of practice or mystical Force osik, you're the best marksman I know. Now, can we please go?"

Aric narrowed his eyes, most likely searching for an insult in Fynta's exasperated praise, then held one arm towards the door. "We've been waiting on you."

Though she tried to resist, Fynta's tongue shot between her lips. Shillet's snort of laughter cut the tension, and Fynta snatched her rucksack from the floor. "You're the one that likes my hair long. I've got to braid it again."

It wasn't a complete lie. Fynta loved the way Aric played with her hair with idle fascination. It finally reached her shoulder blades, more than long enough to plait into a proper line instead of the intricate pattern that Keshal had taught her.

Changing the subject before Aric could argue that too, Fynta looked at Shillet. "Got your buy'ce?"

The Nautolan patted her backpack and started for the door. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this going to suck?"

"Depends on how badly you want to be a soldier," Fynta answered while Aric secured their quarters. They were taking Shillet into the mountains for some foul weather camping to teach the girl how her new armor worked. It wasn't beskar, but Fynta had managed to scavenge some plates from the armorer that would do for now. While the helmet wasn't airtight, it would protect her from the elements.

Before Shillet could answer, a familiar voice boomed through the corridor. "About time, I was thinking of starting without you." Cormac stood at the bend, hands on his hips and a grin plastered across his face.

Fynta's gaze slid to his leg, brow lifting at the lack of a brace. "Probably should have taken that head start, vod." The big man sputtered indignantly, and Fynta lifted her chin. "Seriously, are you up for this?"

"Hell yes." Cormac thumped his knee, filling the air with a meaty clap that was too dense to be flesh. "New and improved model with more flexibility. All thanks to the giant slug."

Fynta circled Cormac while he posed. "Elara approved?"

"Of course." Balic wiggled his ass when Fynta stopped behind him to study the profile of the brace through his pant leg. She smacked it, and he chuckled. "You think I'm brave enough to try without it?"

"Speaking of which," Aric interrupted. "Where is she?"

Cormac's smile faded. "Elara isn't fond of this sort of thing, and Tayl's too young to take on that ridge. They're going to sit this one out." Aric nodded his approval, while Shillet huffed and folded her arms. Cormac's grin returned as he leaned in conspiratorially. "Just means we don't have to share the snacks."

Shillet brightened while Fynta and Aric pretended not to notice that Cormac flashed a bag of brightly colored puffs that weren't on the packing roster. She'd have been more surprised had he not brought them.

As the small group moved through the base, Cormac cleared his throat. "Say, boss, when do you think I'll be fit for the field again?"

Fynta's stomach tightened at the prospect of her closest friend leaving the safety of the base. He had his wife and son, now; Cormac's place was with them, not risking his neck to keep her from doing something stupid. For years, he'd been her silent second for those things she knew Jorgan would disapprove of. Now, Fynta realized how selfish that had been. If she had her way, none of them would leave Odessen again.

"Let's see how this exercise goes," Fynta answered. She knew from the chagrin on the big man's face that it was the wrong one, and patted his arm to take the sting out of it. "I don't want to risk you setting yourself back."

Cormac snorted. "I've had more downtime with this," he gestured at his legs, then at hers, "than you did when you lost yours. Come on, Fynta. Put a weapon in my hands again. Let me be useful."

"What about Elara and Tayl?" Jorgan asked without looking over. He'd lowered his voice so that the accusation didn't travel to where Shillet walked a few paces ahead of them. She had her datapad out, scrolling through whatever kids her age thought of as entertainment.

A strange grunt worked through Cormac, and Fynta realized it was his version of one of Aric's growls, the sort that meant someone had trodden on forbidden territory. Aric didn't seem to have noticed, though Fynta knew he had. It was Aric's gift; to speak the hard truth when soldiers didn't want to hear it. The Cathar turned cool, blue eyes on Cormac. "You know I'm right."

Cormac scrubbed a hand over his bald head without replying, but Fynta saw the words in the way his jaw worked. He felt trapped and useless; she knew the feeling all too well. With a playful bump of her hip, Fynta tried to lighten the mood. "I'll get you that weapon." His lips split into a wide grin, but she held a hand up. "However, I won't take you from Elara and Tayl again. We'll work out a compromise, deal?"

"Right now, I'd take guard duty on the latrines," Cormac laughed and slapped Fynta on the back. "Thanks, boss. I knew I could count on you."

 Odessen  Mt. Ne'johaa  Northern Face  0400 Hours

Fynta stirred, thunder cracking through her dream while Valkorion stared at the sky. Slowly, her gaze lifted too, and they watched the storm rage from the top of the mountain. "What are you doing here?" Her words echoed through the valley despite the roar of the wind. It brought with it the sense of foreboding.

"A storm is coming," Valkorion answered, his voice stronger than Fynta had ever heard it. His robes snapped in the wind, no longer ethereal, but the rain didn't touch him. The man watched a bolt of lightning obliterate a tree in the valley, seemingly unimpressed by the destructive power of nature, then looked down at her.

Fynta dragged her attention from the sky to the dead Sith. Loose strands of hair stung her cheeks. "It's already here."

A smile curled Valkorion's lips, triggering a knot in Fynta's stomach. "You are almost ready."

"Fynta." Aric's voice warmed the back of Fynta's neck. The storm continued to rage outside, tugging at the tent like an animal searching for a way in. He shifted and stretched one arm across her body to swat at an infernal buzzing. Aric chuckled when she pulled his hand against her chest. "Fynta, the comm."

"Fucking comm," Fynta growled. Forcing her eyes open, Fynta gauged the distance between her husband's warmth and the device that connected her to responsibilities that she'd never asked for. With a curse, Fytna retreated from the thermal sleeping bag long enough to snatch the infuriating link, then scrambled back into Aric's embrace. He folded the blanket around them while she answered. "What?"

Fynta's chattering teeth took some of the bite out of her response. Not that it would have mattered to the woman on the other end. The time displayed beneath Lana's perfectly groomed features read 0400 hours. Likely, the Sith had never gone to bed, leaving Fynta feeling like a chakaar for snapping at her.

Lana countered Fynta's foul mood with calm. "You're needed back at base."

A heavy sigh sounded behind Fynta as Aric rolled away. She knew that he'd contact Cormac to warn the man that they'd be bugging out early. Rubbing a hand down her face, Fynta nodded at the Sith. "On our way." There was no point asking why. If Lana hadn't wanted Fynta to know, she would have said so immediately. Fynta had stopped trying to make the Sith play by her rules months ago.

When Fynta turned, Aric had a holo of Cormac balanced on his thigh. The big man yawned, then scraped a hand over his head. "No problem. The storm is supposed to pass in a couple of hours. Shillet's exhausted, slept through the whole thing so far, I'll get her down the mountain when the weather clears."

"I owe you." Aric ended the call and looked over his shoulder. "Never fails."

Fyna forced a grin that she didn't feel and kissed Aric's cheek. "At least we had our clothes on this time."

Aric's smirk matched Fynta's in spirit. They broke camp quietly, though she doubted Cormac could have heard them over the wind. The man had probably gone back to sleep, using his younger tent mate as an excuse to dodge the heavy lifting. The creative ways she'd tease the man later lifted Fynta's spirit enough to make the task of packing everything in the rain bearable. While Fynta's armor kept her dry, they'd need to break everything out and dry it as soon as they had the chance. She didn't look forward to the mud-soaked slide back down the mountain either.

By the time Aric and Fynta made it to the bottom, the sun had turned the sky a drab grey. No light penetrated the cloud cover, so Fynta assumed the storm still raged at the top. Aric removed his helmet once they stepped inside and looked back the way they'd come. Fynta put a hand on his arm. "She'll be fine. This is what Cormac did for a living before Havoc Squad."

Sighing, Aric followed Fynta into the base. "Yeah, I know."

Fynta tried to hide her smile as her husband sulked past, then it slipped when she realized that she wasn't concerned about the girl's safety. It was a surreal moment, realizing that she had proof that she'd be a terrible mother. Shillet was thirteen, sleeping in a tent in the middle of a storm, and would have to climb down a slippery cliff with only one other person to spot for her. And, he had a busted leg. Shab, she really was osik at this.

With a new weight in her chest, Fynta started for the meeting room without bothering to change. If the war council didn't like her wearing mud-covered armor, then they should have let her sleep. Fynta and Aric were the last to arrive. Lana, Vector, Quinn, Theron, Koth, Solish, and Notiac all waited around the council table. Fynta noted the absence of Torian, Kaeto, and Kozen, and made a mental note to ask about their whereabouts.

"Sorry for the delay," Fynta said by way of greeting. She threw herself into a chair and waved for Lana to begin while Aric paced the back wall. Fynta knew better than to suggest the man sit when he had something on his mind.

"Senya woke two hours ago," Lana stated without preamble. Fynta paused in the middle of a yawn and blinked at the Sith who continued without notice. "She is still weak, but healed. Kaeto is with her now, and Captain Dorne estimates no more than 3 weeks before she is battle ready."

Koth stirred on the other side of the table. "For us?" He used the same clipped tone as every other time the Zakuulan knight came up. Fynta knew they had made an effort to become cordial, and she couldn't help but wonder if this new malice came from the sting of fresh betrayal. He'd offered a truce, and Senya had stolen their chance to kill Arcann. Now, what could have been the end of a war, had spiraled into a manhunt.

Lana's lips pressed into a thin line, and Notiac picked up the explanation before her lover could scold Koth. "Conditionally." The Jedi activated a holo in the middle of the table. "She recorded a message before succumbing to exhaustion."

"I know that many of you are not pleased to see me." The woman speaking looked older than Fynta expected. Her silver hair brushed shoulders that looked too narrow to support the pauldrons that normally adorned them. Dark circles hung beneath Senya's grey eyes, but the voice was strong. "I chose to save my son. I do not expect you to agree or understand. I've already lost one, and—" Senya paused, her throat working against the anguish in her eyes. Whatever she'd planned to say didn't escape as words.

Leaning forward, Fynta steepled her fingers beneath her chin while Senya pleaded her case. "Arcann is not the same. He can still be reasoned with. Allow me to search for my son, and I promise you complete fealty and the use of my skills until this war is over." The woman eased higher in her bed, jaw locked in a stern expression. "He is confused and afraid, but there is hope for him."

The recording ended, leaving the room in silence. "So," Fynta interjected when no one else spoke. "Not for Vaylin?"

"She wasn't mentioned," Lana admitted.

Fynta chewed the inside of her lip, swiveling the chair side to side while she considered this not wholly unanticipated development. "Does she know about the conditioning?"

"She does now," Lana answered, though the normally chatty woman didn't appear to enjoy the topic. "There was no evidence that she had prior knowledge and the horror was...as expected."

Lana had displayed an aversion to Vaylin's mind control from the beginning. Fynta grew more curious about the woman's reaction, but hadn't thought of a tactful way to approach it. After all, few at the table hadn't experienced some loss of agency during their careers. Fynta had the fierfeking Sith Emperor living in her head, and all Lana had displayed was mild annoyance back in the swamp when Fynta had let Valkorion save the woman's life.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Fynta leaned back in her chair. "Let's keep an eye on that. I don't trust Senya to think rationally when her children are concerned."

Theron knocked his knuckles against the table, and Fynta groaned at the signal that he was about to hijack the meeting. "While we're here, we need to discuss Vaylin's party. I have a plan."

"Is it a good one?" Fynta asked, regretting her choice to wear soiled armor instead of changing into something more comfortable.

Fynta knew the man well enough to see the adolescent snark on the tip of his tongue when Zolah spoke up. "He's come up with worse." Fynta smirked until the chair next to her filled with a surly Aric. He'd already been banned from that mission on the belief that a Cathar would be too recognizable at what was sure to be a mostly human party. Naturally, he hadn't taken the news well.

"You're both hilarious," Theron groused as he tapped on the datapad. A detailed schematic of the palace took the place of Senya's heartfelt pleas. Along with a diagram of how Zakuulan Knight armor fastened together. The spy droned on about contacts, levels of operation, and guard shift schedules.

Fynta held up a hand, stopping Theron mid-sentence. "What's with the armor?"

"I'm getting to that," Theron snapped. "Hold all questions until the end."

Koth pulled a face that made Fynta snort, and Theron's ears turned an unhealthy shade of red while he continued to speak. "Vector and Quinn have volunteered to be our eyes on the floor. They'll fit in with the population easily enough, and Vaylin doesn't know their faces. You and I will take the guards."

"Who's providing backup when everything goes to shit?" Aric asked, voice thick with the agitation that he'd never been good at holding back.

When Fynta met her husband's gaze, she was careful not to let the pity she felt for him show. "I'll take Torian and Felix. They're both proven in the field."

"And me," Koth added with a raised finger. "Since we're taking my ship and all."

Hurt shone in Aric's eyes that Fynta held her ground on his part in this mission. They'd promised to stay together, even though they'd known it to be a lie. Shillet needed her father on base, now more than ever. The fact that Zakuul didn't host many aliens was a convenient excuse to leave him behind, and he knew it.

The tickle of a vibrating comm distracted Fynta from her guilt long enough to silence it. The moment had moved on, though Fynta knew Aric would have something to say when they were alone. Vector continued, melodious and soothing while he outlined the sequence of events. Vector and Quinn would enter first, while Theron and Fynta snuck in through the service entrance. They would incapacitate a couple of guards, steal their armor, and travel deeper into the complex. Meanwhile, Zolah would work from a low orbit shuttle with Torian and Felix prepped for extraction should the worst happen. Overall, it was a flimsy plan doomed to failure, but it left plenty of room for improvisation.

When the meeting was finally called to an end, Aric pushed from the table and left without a word. Fynta tried to follow, but got caught in last minute suggestions. A quarter of an hour passed before she could extricate herself from the group to follow her husband.

The lights were on when Fynta entered her quarters, but Aric didn't meet her at the door. She found him on their bed, eye patch tossed onto the side table and his legs stretched out while he read. Fynta knew something was wrong when he didn't acknowledge her. "Go ahead," she sighed, removing her gloves so that she could start on the rest of her armor. "Get it out of your system now."

"Get what out of my system," Aric asked with a flat note that chilled Fynta's blood. She glanced at him, then shucked the rest of her armor and let it stay where it fell. When she was done, Fynta positioned herself at the bottom of the bed, folded her arms, and lifted one eyebrow at her husband. She would stand like that all night if she had to, but Fynta refused to sleep while he was angry.

"Do you have any idea what the last six years have been like?" Aric's voice remained emotionless. Fynta didn't move or speak, and the amount of fury in that one glacial eye stole her breath when he found her face. "To have no idea where my wife was, to be told that she was dead, that I'd be discharged for continuing to look for her. To know that I'd spend the rest of my life alone because you were too much of a goddamned hero to consider what you might be leaving behind."

Fynta stared at her husband, speechless while he fumed. She'd only seen him like this one other time, seething to his core over the injustices they'd suffered. It had been the moment before he put a bolt through Agent Zane.

Aric released his rage with a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "My biggest regret," he continued, voice low and rough, "was letting you walk off that ship. Now, I've got a room full of people telling me to do it again."

"We both knew this would happen." Aric's derisive snort cut off the rest of Fynta's argument. She knew better than to continue when he was in a mood like this, so she did the only other thing that came to mind.

Crossing the room, Fynta snatched Aric's comm from the desk and thumbed through his messages until she found the one that she knew he hadn't deleted. "Hey, dad." Shillet's wobbly voice filled the room, and Fynta watched Aric go rigid while listening to his daughter act like she wasn't dying inside. It had been from the night she'd learned about the recall, and her final attempt to reach out to the father she'd never see again.

Fynta heard the abandonment in the girl's words the same as Aric, but she read a completely different message from it. Shillet had been a daughter who wanted to be strong for the man who had changed her life, not an accusation of poor parenting. Fynta didn't understand why Aric chose to keep that recording, and she felt lousy for using it against him, now.

When the message ended, silence filled the space it had left behind. Aric's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, then his lips pulled back into the dangerous snarl. "That's a low blow."

"I'm sorry, Riduur." Fynta set the comm down where it had been, then walked around to Aric's side of the bed. He glared up at her, jaw tensing when she cupped it between her fingers. "But, I'll do what I have to to keep you both safe. She needs you right now, stay and be her father."

To Fynta's surprise, Aric swung his legs over the bed and pulled Fynta close enough to rest his face against her stomach. "I hate having to choose."

"Me too." Fynta ran her nails over Aric's scalp until he released another long breath. The argument was over. As much as Fynta wanted him by her side, he couldn't leave Shillet, not so soon after getting her back. They needed this time to recover; Fynta would find her place after the war was won. "I'll be fine. It's just a party."

 Odessen  Outdoor Landing Platform

Verin set foot on the metal platform and immediately scooted to the railing. Seven pairs of boots ran past, their owners shouting and shoving as teenagers did. He smiled at the stampeding horde, laughing at the startled looks of the poor shabuir who had no idea what Torian had unleashed on their lives.

The crisp smell of winter in the mountains made up for the stuffiness that came from two weeks of recycled air. Verin even welcomed the bite of cold on his cheeks. He took a moment to savor the quiet peace of Odessen while it lasted, then called up to the Fett who'd been tasked with emptying the ship. "That all of them?"

The man snorted a laugh and replied with a hand gesture that would have pushed Verin to anger had he not understood the man's glee at having a peaceful ship again. "K'oyacyi, vod." Fett didn't wait for Verin's response. They'd refuel, restock, then get the hell off Odessen before Torian decided to send the verd'ika back. Verin had already made it clear that he wouldn't be making that trip again.

After watching the loading ramp seal, Verin started towards the main hub of the Alliance Base. He kept the tail end of the weaving mass of teens in view, but made no effort to catch up. They veered towards what Verin assumed was a cantina judging by the sharpness of the turn, then came to a sudden stop. The back end of the group slammed into the front, then was nearly flattened when the kids in the front scrambled away from the doorway. By the time Verin reached them, he saw the reason for their lost momentum.

Torian and Fynta blocked the cantina entrance, one with arms crossed, and the other hands on hips. Verin pushed through the group to embrace his sister and alor. "Su cuy'gar," he laughed, elbowing Tranx out of his stupor. The boy had talked non stop about his aunt after her visit to Darvannis. He'd planned all the challenges, activities, and training to do with the infamous Fynta Wolfe, then promptly lost his ability to speak every time they were near one another. Verin thought it was hilarious, Keshal found her son's awe annoying.

"What's all this?" Fynta asked as she embraced Verin. While Mandalorians didn't bow to anyone, they understood respect. Torian was their alor, the chieftain who'd restored the Cadera clan and brought honor to their families again. Fynta was something more, a Mandalorian who ran a galactic army, killed emperors, and represented the indomitable Mando'ade of legend. Tranx wasn't the only youngster standing in wide-eyed silence.

"Did I forget to mention it?" Torian asked, taking his turn to greet Verin with a rough gripping of forearms. Fynta's brow lifted, and Verin burst into a fit of laughter.

Unease ripple ran through the gathered warriors who didn't know if they should join Verin's merriment or find somewhere else to be. Tranx settled on a grin, but it was his fiance who answered. "We're here for training." Zula folded tiny arms and studied the woman they'd come to meet. "Supposedly, you're the best."

Verin wiped his eyes, steadied his laughter, and clapped Torian on the shoulder. "Alor, you have gett'se of beskar." Clearing his throat, he tried to act professional while staring into the dawning horror on his little sister's face. "Torian invited the next generation for some...controlled battle practice."

"Is that so?" Fynta's gaze slid over the expectant faces, finally settling on Zula. She reached an arm out, letting it hover in the space between them. "You must be the woman who's going to set my nephew straight."

Zula eyed Fynta's offering with the suspicion of a girl who'd grown up without a clan. Her family had lived on the fringes, waiting to be invited back after Jicoln's disastrous uprising. Verin didn't know who they'd belonged to, but had been more than happy to swear loyalty to Torian when he offered.

At last, the small redhead gripped Fynta's arm with a nod. "Yeah, I think I can do that." Her gaze slid in Tranx's direction, and a smirk twitched her lips. "Provided he grows up."

Like that, the tension broke and nervous chuckles turned to easy banter with more than a few lewd jokes aimed at Tranx. With introductions out of the way, Fynta rubbed the top of Tranx's head, mussing his artfully styled strip of hair. He was a head and a half taller than Fynta now, and still growing. Verin often forgot how big the boy was until he saw him standing next to someone else. Tranx was shedding the gangly profile of adolescence, adding muscle and inches onto a frame that would become impressive. The older he got, the more Tranx looked like the father who sired him.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Fynta asked with a laugh, tearing Verin from his thoughts. She had one arm looped around Tranx's waist in a matronly embrace while aiming animated hand gestures at Zula.

Tranx's fiance was short and skinny, all red hair and freckles with the mad, green eyes of a proper Mandalorian woman. She grinned and leaned forward as if to impart a secret. "We'll see if he can keep up."

Laughter and catcalls erupted from the gathered youth while Tranx made attempts to defend his reputation. Fynta chuckled and patted his chest. "I like this one."

Pulling away, Fynta waved for one of her people to take control of the group. He was a clanless Mandalorian, judging by his armor, but Fynta assured Verin that there was none more suited to handling the horde that he'd brought to Odessen. Verin watched his kids vanish into an industrial lift and forced his rising pulse to calm. Tranx was a man by their traditions, not a child that needed to be coddled. Still, sending his son away with a stranger tweaked Verin's nerves.

"Your timing couldn't be worse," Fynta sighed when they were alone. She nodded for Verin to walk with her and Torian into a smaller lift that he assumed would take them inside. "Torian and I are about to leave for a mission, and I have no idea how long it'll take."

"Oh no," Verin shoved between the alor and his sister. "You're not leaving me here alone with these kids again. This was your idea." He jabbed a finger at Torian, as much of an accusation as a threat.

Torian chuckled and batted Verin's hand away. The lift doors closed, and Fynta rounded on them both. "Speaking of which, what the hell? You weren't going to warn me about a bunch of shiny baby Mandos?"

With a shrug, Torian affected an innocent look that still worked on his younger-than-natural features. He was well into his thirties, but still carried the youthful glow of a much younger man. That had always annoyed Verin. "Must've slipped my mind."

"Right." The lift dinged open, and Fynta stepped out. "Just for that, I'm sicking them on your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Verin leaned forward to look at the man. "Could it be true?"

Torian muttered some not nice things in Mando'a that both Fynta and Verin ignored. "She's a Jedi," Fynta continued as they wove deeper into the base without offering any direction for Verin to memorize. "You've met her. The cute one that came to Darvannis with me."

Verin felt his cheeks rise further. "Noara? The spunky Jetii who wanted to Force wedgie Fett?" Torian rolled his eyes, and Verin laughed again. "We need to get drinks. I've got to hear how this happened."

"On that note." Torian turned down a separate hallway, walking backward while he spoke. "You two stay out of trouble. I'm going to warn Noara that she's just inherited new students. Then, cook her dinner."

Verin wiggled his fingers in a mocking salutation to his old friend, then turned back to Fynta. "I hear you've been busy. Where's the husband?"

"Aric's in a strategy session with some of the military heads right now," Fynta answered, turning down another hallway. Verin had lost count of how many they'd taken, but the smell of food hinted that they were nearing the living quarters. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to learn about our new arrivals, too. It'll be a hell of a way to introduce Shillet to that side of the family."

At the mention of his niece, Verin sobered. "How's that going, by the way?" He'd heard from Torian about the rescue mission. Keshal's warning rang in the back of Verin's mind, and now that he was with her, he saw the tension in Fynta's posture. She was a mother now; she'd never planned for that.

Fynta shrugged. "She's Aric's daughter. We're still in a transitory stage, you know? Getting to know each other." Pressing her palm to the panel, Fynta paused before opening the door. "We're figuring it out."

Verin held his hands up. "I won't interfere." Fynta nodded and led the way into her personal space. It was spartan with only a few touches of personalization. Not that Verin expected more from a couple brought together by the military. What few items that were used for decorative purposes looked to have real world application as well.

A young, green skinned Nautolan lounged on the couch with a datapad three inches from her nose. Verin wasn't sure what to expect, but an average teenager hadn't been it. Listening to Aric talk about his daughter over the years made Verin think of a little girl. This one's legs were long enough at thirteen to drape over the arm of the sofa.

"Shillet," Fynta greeted, ruffling the girl's head tresses as she passed the couch. "Meet your uncle Verin. He's an idiot, but we love him."

Black eyes peered over the datapad, then Shillet sat up. "I've heard a lot about you. Is it true that both of your wives shot you?"

Verin chuckled, casting a vengeful look at his sister. "Only the first one. The second likes to make threats, but she's harmless."

Shillet giggled. "So, what do I call you? Fynta said that buir means both mom and dad. Do you have a word for uncle?" She slid her knees up to make room for Verin to sit on the other end of the sofa.

"We don't have masculine or feminine words. Ba'vodu means both, looking to learn?" Verin threw one arm over the back of the cushion and spared a glance at Fynta. She met his eyes with lifted brows. At least it sounded like she'd made attempts to teach her new daughter their ways, but he wondered how much resistance Aric put up.

"Yeah," Shillet answered, sitting straighter. The girl was skinny, but not in the fit way that Zula boasted. Shillet had no muscle mass on her body, something that she'd need to change before developing bad habits. "Fynta's been teaching me when she has the time. Running an army takes a lot, though."

Verin looked over at his sister again, then smiled at the girl. "My son and his future misses came with me, they're just a few years older than you. I bet Tranx and Zula would teach you the important things."

Shillet's eyes widened and Fynta cleared her throat. "We hadn't gotten that far yet." She joined them, two beers grasped between her fingers and a can of fizz pop for Shillet. Verin accepted his with a nod of thanks while Fynta attempted to sum up Mandalorian mating traditions. "Mando's die young, Shil'ika. So, we marry and procreate young too. Your average Mandalorian will get married between sixteen and twenty."

Shillet's mouth fell open, the standard reaction of an aruetii. Fynta took a drink of her beer and flopped into one of the chairs. "His son is sixteen, his girl a year younger. They won't get married until next year."

"But." Shillet looked between Fynta and Verin, grasping her drink in a white knuckled grip. "They're just kids."

"Remember when I told you that at thirteen you could take your verd'goten and be considered an adult?" Shillet nodded, and Fynta gestured like she'd made her point. "Tranx has been an adult for three years. In normal society that would put him at what, twenty?"

Shillet swallowed and picked at the tab on her can. Verin could tell what the girl's question would be long before she worked up the nerve to ask. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "So, if I decide to become a Mandalorian. Do I have to get married in three years?"

"No." The word carried with it a finality that made Verin chuckle. Aric Jorgan stood in the doorway, his disapproving gaze sweeping the room. Fynta snickered into her beer and slid lower in the chair while Shillet blinked with a confusion that couldn't be faked.

Pushing himself off the couch, Verin rose to greet the brother he hadn't seen in nearly a decade. "Good to see you, again, vod."

Aric dropped his pack by the front door and shook Verin's hand. "Heard you'd arrived. Figured it'd take you longer to start converting my kid, though."

Verin gripped the Cathar's shoulder, carefully looking past the eyepatch. There was more white around the man's mouth than Verin remembered, and a ragged hunch to his shoulders that Verin understood all too well. Still, he painted on a wide smile and pretended to see none of it. "Shab, Aric. You're looking good for an old guy."

The Cathar flashed sharp teeth and patted Verin's arm. "And, you've gotten grey. How's being a father treating you?"

"Best feeling in the world." Verin stepped away from the Cathar so that he could greet Fynta and reclaimed his seat on the sofa. "But, I don't have to tell you that."

Aric kissed his daughter on the head, then shared a brief look with Fynta that Verin recognized. Something in the meeting hadn't gone as expected, and he needed to fill her in. A thought occurred to him then, and Verin smacked Shillet's calf where it rested by his leg. "How would you like to meet Tranx and Zula? You can show me where the Jedi keep their prisoners...I mean students." The Nautolan's features brightened before she looked at Aric and Fynta. Verin saluted them with his beer. "If that's alright with your folks."

"Fine with me," Fynta answered, then elbowed Aric when he took too long to agree.

The Cathar's expression could only be described as torn. Verin hoped the man had been joking earlier about converting his daughter. He wouldn't go against the wishes of any parent so long as they had their child's best interests in mind. They didn't have to align with his beliefs, only that the child wasn't being mistreated.

"Fine." Aric breathed the word, making it sound almost painful. He leaned a hip against the chair Fynta sat in and accepted Shillet's exuberant embrace when she leaped off the sofa. "Go get your coat."

While the Nautolan rushed into a curtained space that Verin assumed was her room, he stood and stretched. "Don't worry, I'll have her home by dinner. Only minor brawls, nothing serious."

Aric's scowl deepened, but it was Fynta who answered. "Better make sure she keeps her holo on, just in case." Verin nodded, hiding his amusement again. There was little doubt who the device would comfort.

Shillet appeared a moment later, hands wrapped in gloves with a sturdy jacket slung over her shoulder. She paused by Aric to kiss his cheek and bumped fists with Fynta before bounding up to Verin. "I'm ready."

As Verin turned towards the door, Aric cleared his throat. "You're not taking that, are you?"

Verin followed the Cathar's gaze to the beer bottle, still full, dangling from his fingers. With a dramatic sigh, he tossed it into the bin next to the door, quietly lamenting its loss. "Come on, kid," Verin laughed as they exited the room. "Let's go have some fun."

[cinlat]

I was tagged by @starknstarwars and @keldae for this pic crew. And since I'm a sucker, I did it. Then I edited it on my phone 😂. I'll tag @dimigex @dingoat @storyknitter @a-muirehen @shabre-legacy if you you haven't been tagged (or want to again it you have). So here are my Mando punks, Fynta and Verin.

[cinlat]

Chapters: 34/34 (WORK COMPLETE) Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic Rating: Mature Relationships: Aric Jorgan/Female Republic Trooper, Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan, Vector Hyllus/Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine, Lana Beniko/Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Female Smuggler/Koth Vortena, Elara Dorne/Male Republic Trooper, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Male Sith Warrior Series: Part 4 of Meet Me On The Battlefield Word Count: Total (167,997) Chapter (7,139)

Summary: Arcann has been forced into hiding, and life moves on for Fynta and the Alliance. There are still trials ahead, but the galaxy takes a moment to breathe in the lull before Vaylin takes control.

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for reading along and following Fynta's story. You have no idea how much I've appreciated the kudos, comments, and messages over the last year of writing this story.

Odessen Medical Ward

There were few sounds that Fynta hated more than the drone of medical equipment. Judging by the pain radiating through her body, she assumed those infuriating beeps were for her. "I think she's coming around." The voice was almost familiar, like something out of a dream. Fynta wished it would shut up so that she could go back to sleep.

"Can you get me closer without hurting yourself?" The severe, Imperial accent jarred Fynta's memory.

Fynta's eyes snapped open when the fog of medication cleared enough to recognize voices that made her heart leap. Balic Cormac grinned from the bed to Fynta's left. "Hey, bunkmate, about time you woke up." Fynta's throat tightened. In his hand, stood Elara Dorne in muted blues.

Slowly, Cormac swung long legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring his wife's tittering about not straining himself. He set the holo on the table by Fynta's head and rolled a doctor's stool over to sit next to her. She cringed at how slow the man's movements were.

"You had us worried," Cormac continued, grunting when he settled into a comfortable position. Tears gleamed in his large, dark eyes. "When they rolled your bed next to mine, I thought we'd lost you again."

When Fynta didn't speak, worry creased Cormac's brow. "You do remember me, right?"

The fear in Cormac's voice snapped Fynta out of her stupor. "Mir'sheb," she croaked, lifting her arms to embrace him. One of the fluid lines snagged on the bed, and Elara fussed at Fynta from the bedside table. But, She didn't care.

Cormac gently pushed Fynta's arms down and took one of her hands into both of his. She marveled at the irony of their reversed positions until he kissed her knuckles. Fynta watched Balic's face as he pressed her hand to his heart, fingers tight while tears streamed down his cheeks. "I missed you, boss. You have no idea how much."

Fynta chewed the inside of her lip to avoid surrendering to the same emotions. Knowing that Cormac was alive and well made her eyes burn with thankful tears. When she'd left, they weren't sure if he'd ever regain consciousness. Now, he was holding her hand and telling her to get better soon like he hadn't just been near death's door.

Elara waited in prim silence, ever the patient friend. "When can you join us?" Fynta hadn't intended to ask the other woman that question, but she desperately wanted her family back together.

Wiping at her eyes, Elara cleared her throat. "It's more complicated with the children, but I have something in the works. I can't discuss it over an open line." Fynta nodded. No matter how much she wanted to hurry it along, Fynta knew that she shouldn't press.

"I told you." Fynta's head snapped towards the open door to find Jorgan with a cup of caf. "The minute I leave, she wakes up. Damn woman." His snarled baritone made Fynta grin.

Aric removed a rumpled pillow and blanket from the chair on the opposite side of Fynta's bed, then placed his cup on the table. He took her free hand. "How do you feel?"

"Like a ship exploded around me. Again." Fynta tried to reposition herself, then winced as pain shot up her spine. With a sudden panic, Fynta looked to her left leg still hidden beneath the thin blanket. She couldn't make her hands move to check.

"Still there," Aric assured, patting the prosthetic gently. "Arcann banged you up, but you still have all of your parts intact. It's going to take a couple of weeks of kolto dips to get over this one. The doctor wants to know how you tore so many ligaments in your forearm without cutting it off. Told him I'd ask." One bony brow lifted in expectation. Fynta decided a silent shrug was safer than admitting to grabbing a maniac's lightsaber.

Though not thrilled about the prospect of more time in the medcenter, Fynta couldn't bring herself to ruin the moment of peace by complaining. "Verin said to call him when you wake up, and that he's tired of saying that," Jorgan continued with a wry smirk. "Also, Shillet wants to talk to you as soon as you feel up to it."

"I'll inform the children when they return home," Elara interjected from the side table. "I've begun picking Shillet up from school in the afternoons so that she can sleep here."

Aric's jaw tightened at what Elara left unsaid. His daughter's situation had destabilized, and there was nothing he could do about it from across the galaxy. "Thank you," Aric replied, voice deepened by inner turmoil. "Please have her call as soon as she gets in."

Fynta squeezed Aric's hand to let him know that he didn't have to go through this alone. "I will, sir," Elara answered with a stiff nod. "Unfortunately, I must go, I've spent too long on the line as it is." Her attention switched to Cormac, and Fynta felt the need to look away and give them as much privacy as possible. "I love you, Balic. Do as your doctor says, and I'll contact you as soon as I can."

"Love you, too, doll." Fynta winced at the sadness in Cormac's smile. "I'll be a model patient. Tell my boy that I'll see him soon."

With one last nod, Elara cut the signal. Fynta looked between the men at her bedside, each struggling with the separation from a child and family, but here for her. "We'll get her out, Cormac," Fynta decided. "I'll get Theron on it immediately." Fynta didn't understand everything that kept Elara in the Republic, but she knew it had to do with technology. Surely with all of the brilliant scientists on the base, they could figure something out.

Read more on Ao3 or FFN.

[cinlat]

Fictober19: Day 2

Prompt: “Just follow me, I know the area.” Genre: History Word Count: 236 Characters: Verin Ejnar/Keshal Vaak & (young) Tranx Vaak Story/series: Meet Me on the Battlefield Fandom: swtor

Genosis Somewhere Off Course of Cadera Territory  3635 BBY

“Just follow me,” Tranx shouted as he wove between the dense rock formations of Geonosis. “I know the area.”

Verin had never been to the red planet before, but couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer to Keshal. “Does he actually know where we’re going?”

The woman shook her head, then thumbed over one shoulder. “The grave site is that way.”

Though Mandalorians weren’t prone to burying their dead in a singular location, Clan Cadera had spent years on the surface of this world. It only made sense to create a communal graveyard to honor their fallen. 

Verin waited for Keshal to correct the boy. When she didn’t, Verin realized that she was more nervous about visiting her husband’s resting place than he’d assumed. The reason only became apparent when she began chewing on her lip while Tranx darted about.

Slowing their walk, Verin pulled Keshal against his side and kissed her temple. “You’ve done him proud,” he commented with as casual an air as he could manage. “Tranx is a fine boy, a tribute to his father. You have nothing to worry about.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Keshal’s lips when she patted Verin’s chest plate. “Both of his fathers.”

Verin flashed his cheesiest grin, but his reply faltered when Tranx rushed back to meet them. The boy skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust that made Verin sneeze and Keshal curse. When the air cleared, Tranx glared at his boots with hands on hips. He gave a heavy sigh before admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m lost, which way is it?”

[cinlat]

Keshal Vaak. Mandalorian. Widow. Mother. Trusted member of Clan Cadera. Wife. Brilliant Strategist. Family warrior. Verin’s better half. Queen of “Mom Face”

[cinlat]

Cinlat Ejnar. Planner. Queen of serious. Former slave. Secretive to the extreme. Loves her Rippers. Practically raised Fynta. Died on Yavin 4. Chestplate passed down to Fynta on Darvannis. 

[cinlat]

Verin Ejnar. Fynta’s big brother. Bounty hunter. THAT brother. Easy going. Widower. Family oriented. Proper Mandalorian. Loyal husband. Proud Father. Master of Expletives. 

[cinlat]

Bet you’ll never guess which particular Republic soldier he has in mind…..