Disclaimer: Star wars franchise belongs to many people and companies from Gorge Lucas to Disney, however I'm not among them.
A/N: set anywhere really, it could be even an AU, if your heart desire.
Story summary: Steela felt brave, beautiful and victorious.
Bold and beautiful
by Your-biohazardous-friend
"We're only young and naive still
We require certain skills
The mood it changes like the wind
Hard to control when it begins"
'Young blood' - Birdy
They were drunk of victory and booze - A pulp-like, half-refined moonshine that they found at an abandoned house they choose for their hideout. It made all the freedom fighters bold and loud. The victorious rebels sung patriotic songs mixed with coarse rhymes known only to drunk pirates from the outer rim and rebellious youth skipping school. Sitting at the brink of the yellow glow of the bonfire, Steela watched her comrades from the distance - their voices were just a distant white noise, their shadows like a puppet show.
She was drinking too. A lot. Thanks to a thick mist of alcohol clouding her brain, Steela felt, for the first time in a long time, brave and beautiful. She glanced to her left. Lux's eyes were sparkling and glossy, fixed on their men who were now more screaming than singing, more trashing around than dancing. His dry, chapped lips were smiling warmly. His face flushed up to his ears. It all made him look younger, more innocent.
Force, she loved that man.
In a spur of the moment, she kissed him; slipping her tongue into his mouth. He closed his eyes and kissed back, desperately clutching his mess tin doubling for glassware. Steela's own hands trailed down over layers of his clothing - past collar of his shirt, combat vest, along belts and straps to cup the tent of his pants. She climbed into his lap without hesitation swaying her hips; a knot in her belly was driving her insane. Steela felt beautiful, victorious and horny. Nothing could go wrong at the night like this.
Steela unfastened the harnesses of his get-up. She couldn't care less about the racket when Lux's ornamental armguard fell to the floor. The man grunted, his hips buckling in response. Just a few flimsy pieces of material separated her from the bliss she so desperately craved for.
"Ahsoka" Lux murmured so quietly it could almost pass up as a soft breath.
Steela froze.
All of her eagerness vaporized in a second. He uttered the name so fondly as if it was that retched Jedi whore straddling his hips instead. The young general wanted to wail in frustration.
How could it be that even though she could rally the citizens to action, wedge victorious battles, make rulers fall to her knees and beg her to spare their life yet she couldn't have that one man she loved?
Under her, Lux was drunk, blushing and ready.
But not for her.