Hera didn't cry. Not when the Death Star obliterated Yavin 4. Crushing all hopes for the Rebel Alliance.
It was funny in retrospect. Thinking that their rag tag group could have stopped that station.
Her face was a grim mask as they fled the destruction. Kanan, always so immovable, couldn't stop himself from breaking down in tears as he witnessed their fleet wiped out by the Empire. Sensed the thousands of souls snuffed out in an instant.
She had pushed the hyperspace lever, sending them to Force knows where. She should have stayed - should have fought! But she didn't. Because no one can stand up to the Empire with only a freighter.
Only naive fools would do that. They had been young, once. . . innocent. Looking back on it, Hera's heart ached for those times. There had been so much hope then, so much passion.
Arriving by some miracle at Dantooine, the crew had tried to make a plan.
Ezra did cry. He cried when he learned that there was no more Rebel Alliance, although he knew that from the moment the Death Star had appeared. Who could have stood up to that menace?!
They had all tried to go back to their old ways, tried to be cheery, but all hope had gone out of their hearts. Even Chopper was miserable.
It was just them against the galaxy. No Fulcrums, no Alliance.
In the end, it turned out that they had done more harm than good.
A tracker had been planted on the Ghost's hull after an op. Normally, Chopper would have caught it, but he was aging. Every day, he moved a little slower, beeped a little quieter.
That tracker had been used to locate Clan Wren's base of operations.
Sabine had sobbed as Star Destroyers ruthlessly enacted a Base Delta Zero. Her heart broke thinking of all they had lost. Fenn Rau. Bo Katan. Her family.
Ryloth was the next to be glassed. Another reminder of the Empire's heartlessness.
Still, Hera had not cried. Not even as she saw her home world die. She merely ordered Chopper to be more thorough.
Lothal? It had died long ago.
Even then, they had carried on, plastering false smiles on their faces as the Empire hunted down what was left of the Rebellion. When she was alone with Kanan, she let her emotions vent. Kanan had always been a comforting presence, but now he seemed just as sad as her.
Then one day, the inevitable happened. The Ghost was shot down. Her only consolation was that it had she had taken a dozen TIEs with her.
Chopper had been the first to go, crushed beneath a cargo container.
Hera Syndulla didn't cry. Not yet.
Black clad death troopers converged on the crash site. The rest of the crew had implored her and Sabine to take the one remaining speeder and flee.
And she had, going against her every instinct screaming at her to remain with the one she loved. There was a time when they had considered having a child. Naming it Dawn. It seemed like a distant memory now.
She hadn't looked back, as one by one, her family died. First Zeb, then Ezra, and Kanan had fallen.
Just when she thought they were clear, a shot hit Sabine. It was a dishonorable death for a Mandalorian. Shot through the head, fleeing from a fight.
Her lifeless corpse had tumbled off onto the ground. Hera didn't look, knowing that the sight would scar her even more.
She was the only one left alive.
And finally, Hera cried. She cried for her family and friends. She cried for the freedom that she would never see.
Soon after, rumors began spreading through the galaxy. Rumors of a mysterious bounty hunter. She was a formidable pilot, chasing down her targets with a steely determination.
The days became years. The years, decades. Her lekku were long. Her skin wrinkled. What had she become?
In the end, it was a relief as she drank down the pills.
During her final moments, Hera saw Spectres from the past. Her crew. Ezra. Sabine. Zeb. Chopper. Kanan. All there. Beckoning to her. Hallucinations? Maybe, but she savored the illusions. It was then that Hera realized something: their fight had been in vain, but others would know their stories. Maybe, just maybe, the story of their hopeless struggle would be immortalized. As she slumped down, a genuine smile formed on her face. And Hera slept for the last time.