Author's Notes: If you have ventured past the prologue and decided to pursue this story further, I humbly thank you for your continued interest, and I can only hope that I do not disappoint as I tell the tale that these characters have asked of me.
As always, I hope I have captured the spirit of Assassin's Creed and Star Wars, and that I have done justice to weave an enchanting fairy tale with these worlds.
Disclaimer: I make no money from this hobby, but I don't let that discourage my imagination.
Chapter 1 – Parallel Freedoms
Planet Blyne
Wynsridge Royal Complex
Her heart pounded so loud, she could feel it reverberating in her ears. It was a constant sound to her now, that bass noise that banged and threatened to squeeze the air out of her lungs. Her hands shook, and the small satchel she carried no longer felt as light as it did when she first sneaked out of her room and down the dark hallways.
The fact that she had made it this far was, in itself, a miracle unlike any she had ever known previously. She had thought for certain that a loose floorboard would have betrayed her at some point, and when she had found the one that offered the slightest creak, she waited for someone to round the corner to grab her and reprimand her for her foolishness. However, that scenario never happened, and she had been ever grateful.
This middle-of-the-night excursion was the hardest walk she had ever taken within her home, and her imagination had transformed every sound she made into a much larger representation of itself. Each of her careful steps were comparable to drum beats, her clothing brushed like stones being scraped together, and her shallow breaths might as well have been the wind blowing during a hurricane. Yet, somehow, she had managed to make it through the long hallway, down the steps, and out the servant's tunnel beneath her home. The only people awake at this ungodly hour were the sentries monitoring the exterior of her home, and she knew that the servant's tunnel would give her the safest access to the outside. She was not so naïve as to use the front door or back door, and her freedom from the house had succeeded.
The servant's tunnel had brought her away from her home and within access to the groundskeeper's quarters. Here, she was now inside the large backyard of her home where the lights were less abundant. Beyond the well-maintained grass, benches, and garden was the wooded land at the end of her family's property. Keeping low, she moved amongst the outside shadows of the shrubbery on the meticulously-kept grounds, ducking every time a light was shined out into the yard or a sentry moved through his watch sequence.
She swallowed as quietly as she could, licking dry lips and praying to whatever entity who would listen that she not get caught. The light moved near her again, and her eyes fell to the dark material of her ensemble, to hide her eyes from that stray light around her. She took the moment to reflect on the secrets she had to keep over the course of the last two weeks. Her outfit was carefully chosen, hiding it in a travel case she never used that stayed hidden in the back of her closet. The tunic covered her neck and arms, draping down past her waist in a cut that gave her body more shape than she believed she had. The lower part of the tunic flared out near her thighs, giving the tunic a short skirt. She relished the comfort of the shin-high boots with flat heels that she was now wearing instead of the blasted fancy footwear covered in adornments that hurt her feet. She was certain that if she hadn't stowed these boots away with the rest of the clothing, she would not have made it this far because they were a much needed relief. The pants she wore were tucked into the boots, keeping them as tight to her body as she could and not snag them on anything during her escape. The pants material was a little tight on her, but they were all she had because in her old life, she was expected to wear more formal attire, the likes of which were expensive dresses and gowns.
Breathing out the mixture of excitement, fear, resentment, and any other emotion that flared in her thoughts, she pushed that life away, not wanting to think about it any longer. Forward, she reminded herself, only forward.
The footsteps she had heard earlier finally passed, and when she lifted her eyes, she saw that the perimeter of the complex was just ten feet before her. Taking another breath, she realized that those ten feet might as well be another mile. She was never a fast runner, and in order to get through the small hole she had found in the perimeter bushes, she needed to run there quickly. Squeezing through the bushes would be another matter, and she would need her time spent more passing through the shrubbery.
She resisted the urge to look back behind her. It was all about moving forward and what lie in front now. If she turned back, she had the feeling that her moment of hesitation would be certain to have her captured. Then, if word got back to Torace about what she had attempted, he would see to it that their union be swift, and her freedoms limited to only the indoors of the complex.
She shifted her stance in the shadows, feeling that pounding pain in her chest, the reminder of her heart racing – much as she would soon be doing across the grassy lawn. Her eyes monitored the small, almost hand-held droid camera as it flew on its destined path around the corner. She had watched the mechanical boxes her entire life, chasing them as a child and had become familiar with their movements. In her innocent youth, she talked to the security personnel, and learned that there was an eight-second blind spot they had never worried about correcting. They believed that eight seconds was not long enough for anyone to get across the complex, and if they had, there would be other obstacles awaiting them before they could get close enough to the building to cause any concerns. None of this knowledge meant anything when she was nine years old, but as she neared her twenty-third birth year, those eight seconds were crucial. The security personnel only ever worried about someone coming into the complex – not someone getting out of it.
Watching the droid pass the invisible line on the grass, Kaelyn Wynsridge took those eight seconds and ran as though her darkest nightmares were chasing her.
Planet Blyne
Fly by Night Tavern
It was just one of those things he did when life slowed down long enough for him to enjoy it. He swirled the clear, amber liquid around in the small glass, watching it artistically brush against the rim without a drop tipping over the edge. Churban brandy was a small, expensive reward – one he could only afford in the size of a shot glass – but it was a reward nonetheless. It was the one luxury he granted to himself after a completed mission in which he didn't actually acquire a new scar.
Concentrating on his task, he refused to be distracted by the striking woman behind the counter where he was standing. She had been moving smoothly and swiftly through the drink orders, lining up each one with precision and sending them off to either the patron at the bar or the two servers who were in her employ. When he had the opportunity to place his order, she offered a smile and an apology, explaining that the place was unusually busy due to an influx of supplies that were detained by an Imperial blockade that had just been released unexpectedly an hour ago. And she clarified that the extra customers were all the pilots who finally received clearance to land.
He had waved away her apology and told her he was in no hurry, raising his hooded face enough that she could see the wink he gave her in response to her flirtatious blue eyes. When she had placed the Churban brandy on the counter, she included a small flimsi that contained a location and told him her shift ends in thirty minutes. He decided he could wait the thirty minutes and just enjoy the moments of peace while he had them because if this barkeep was as energetic as she appeared, he would need as much of his stamina as he could spare.
Watching the swirl of the sweet alcohol as he slowly spun it in the glass, he realized that this tavern, aptly named the Fly by Night was far from the worst place he could have found. It was clean and well-kept. Each of the tables had metal counters for quick cleaning that were trimmed in dark wood to help absorb the dim light. The walls were covered in holographs of the port and dock throughout the years, showing the upgrades that had taken place from its humble beginnings as a six-dock port to the twenty-five docks it now utilized.
Most of the locals were dockworkers who loaded and unloaded cargo as well as the pilots who brought supplies to and from Blyne. There were the three regulars, who kept to themselves in the far corner, playing cards while nursing a round of ales. The women ranged from pilots who would take no nonsense to those who used the tavern as a place to spend a night on the town with their significant others.
He didn't exactly blend in this environment, but he also wasn't a shining beacon that brought attention to himself either. His long, black overcoat was made from a particularly durable leather and trimmed in a midnight blue that allowed him to absorb into the night and shadows. His heavy black boots had seen a lot of usage and were showing signs of wear, but they were broken in so comfortably, they were like an extension of him. Beneath the overcoat, his dark gray tunic and pants were layered under a thin, lightweight wrap of unique armor that added extra protection to his chest and back. Dressed as he was, he was familiar with the whispers around him, as people were always trying to decipher just what he was, and those whispers included everything from a mythical Sith to a prince in disguise. And, considering that the barkeep was interested in him beyond just quenching his immediate thirst he figured someone must have given her misinformation about the prince rumor.
Smiling at that last thought, he finally lifted the glass towards his lips, and took in the pungent, but sugared scent, taking solace in the fact that no one really knew who or what he was. Maintaining that air of mystery, he kept his face hidden under his dark cowl, so only the tip of his nose and the occasional flash of his teeth could be seen. There was a private moment here, one he didn't like interrupted – not even by a flirtatious and fine-looking barkeep. Tilting the glass, he sent that sweet, warm drink into his mouth, setting the small glass down gently onto the counter, landing it perfectly on top of the unmarked credit chip he had left behind.
Closing his eyes against the noise of the world around him and shutting down the sounds of the Fly by Night, with all its loud chatter and dulled music, he inhaled the burn of the small glass of brandy and let the liquid take its slow, feverish ride down his throat. Warmth trickled in his stomach, and with a satisfied breath, he opened his eyes. The world came back around him now – louder and noisier than it originally seemed. He knew that could only mean one of two things. One: the Churban brandy had dulled his senses for those short, few moments – which was not likely because he could drink a few more of those if he wanted without it affecting him, or two: someone else had entered the tavern and had caused a commotion.
Hearing the barkeep beg in a panic that she wanted no trouble and that her business papers were in order, he was aware of the fear in her eyes as she looked behind him.
Rotating from his place against the edge of the bar, he now had every intention to return to his ship and forget about the barkeep's offer while he disappeared as part of the crowd in the upheaval that had started – except, it seemed, that the galaxy always had a way of trapping him in scenarios where he couldn't just fade into the distance. So, he was not entirely surprised when the filtered voice shrunk the galaxy down to just him and this moment – the galaxy making certain he was forever held in its grasp.
"You! You're under arrest for crimes against the Empire."
Raising his eyes to meet the darkened goggles of the four white-armored stormtroopers that stood in a semi-circle around him, he rolled his eyes beneath his hood, the flash of his white teeth seeming bright against his personal shadows as he gritted them in regret for not clearing Blyne when he had the chance. As the mayhem of the heightened noise now settled to nothing, the crowd that had inhabited the tavern was long gone. None of the pilots, smugglers, or locals wanted any trouble with the Empire, and they had taken the opportunity to flee while the stormtroopers were intent on moving towards their quarry.
Aiming his words behind him at the barkeep, his voice was soft-spoken but deep, and he told her simply, "Stay down."
Bringing his arms out to his sides, there was the very particular and swift sound of metal scraping as it released from a hidden sheath. And, then, like a black bird impaling its prey, Gavan Duvellin's double-length wrist blades found their marks in the necks of the unprotected part of the black bodysuit on the two stormtroopers directly in front of him.
Planet Blyne
Crestowne
Kaelyn ran, and she ran until she could feel her insides churning so bad, she was on the verge of being sick. She never once looked back and had no intentions of ever looking behind her again. She could envision her family's estate growing smaller into the distance, the few lights on in the windows at this hour shrinking into small pinpricks in the darkened night.
She finally stopped to catch her breath when she was about four blocks away from what was once her home, as she could not move another step without feeling the need to pass out. Falling to her knees, she huddled in the corner of the shadows under the large, thick tree trunk on the edge of someone's lawn and took in as many breaths as she could. She only had a handful of hours until dawn before someone would discover she was missing, and she had hoped to be long off-world when that happened.
She brought the satchel from her back and dropped it before her, pulling out a couple flimsi maps and a small bottle of water. She needed a few moments to get her bearings and catch her breath. With shaking hands, she took a long drink and then she set out the map pages before her – pages torn from a much larger volume. She felt no guilt for having desecrated one of the map books in her family's library, as she knew that if they discovered what she was up to with the book, she would have been imprisoned even further. Taking the book and destroying it for her needs was yet another secret she had kept to herself for two weeks.
Trying not to dwell on the charade she had played for as long as she had while she worked on her runaway plan, Kaelyn attempted to decipher in the dark the differences between the markings on the map that were in someone else's handwriting and the marks she had made when devising her escape plan. She had no idea what the blue-inked markings were, so she ignored them and had marked the map instead in a different color to differentiate her notes in order to prevent the other notations from confusing her.
Daring a peek around the tree trunk and into the street, she searched for something to give her a landmark, and was satisfied when she found a lamppost marking the cross street. Sliding a trembling finger along the route on the map, it matched to the green ink she had used to plan her route. She stifled a cry of joy with her hand and wiped away one of the tears that had settled along the corner of her eye. She had done something right, and was not being ridiculed for once. Her heart jumped at the very concept that she had made it this far without anyone tracking her, and then her heart just as abruptly fell as her eyes traced the rest of the route she still had to go.
Moving that trembling finger along the green line on her map, Kaelyn found the destination she had selected. In about another half-mile, she would make it to the public sector where she would take a transportation vehicle to the Crestowne Shipyard and Docking Port. She had overheard the servants saying that it was the busiest place in the vicinity, and she had decided that it would be a place where she could get lost in the crowd. That was something she would need in order to disappear, and she had planned her escape around that destination.
Reaching a hand into her satchel, she quickly inventoried the few high-valued and unmarked credit chips that she had slowly accumulated from her father's petty-stash in his library as well as most of her jewelry. She had enough common sense to know that she would need payment to get passage off-world, and she was certain that she had more than enough for the cost of a flight and someplace to stay for a while. She hadn't decided on a destination yet to go, but once she got off Blyne, she would figure that out. First, however, she needed to get moving from where she was because sitting in a shadow would get her no further.
Folding the map pages and taking a last drink from her bottle of water, Kaelyn hurried to put the items back in her bag. She took another deep, long breath and peered out from her shadows to make sure she still didn't have any of her parents' guards or Torace's private security chasing her. She had gone too far now – four blocks further than any other escape she had ever attempted.
The last time she had tried to escape, she got as far as the front perimeter and told them that she saw a baby stray fuzzling moving about the edge of the bushes. She could tell that they didn't believe her, but because she didn't actually get off the property, they let it go with a warning to make sure the guards knew when she was stepping off the grounds.
Kaelyn shook her head, forcing the stray thoughts away. She reminded herself that if she kept looking back, she would never go forward. That was how she made it this far tonight. She refused to look behind her – both physically and mentally.
Throwing the bag on her back again, Kaelyn took off into the shadows of the night, avoiding the glowlamps in the streets and ducking under bushes whenever she came by a residence. So far, the only residences were of those in the nobility, but she had taken notice of how the houses she was passing had been shrinking in property and structure. They were shaping very quickly into small homes where families and the middle-class residents lived.
Glancing at another cross-street sign and thinking about the image on the map, Kaelyn knew the transportation depot was just two blocks away. Her heart started pounding again, and her hands continued trembling. She had to believe she was going to make it this time. Going back was no longer an option.
Planet Blyne
Fly by Night Tavern
Gavan spun with the stormtroopers still on his blades and ducked down, making the two dead men into human shields, as their comrades shot their blasters at him. The dead men took the hits, filling the tavern with a combination of smoke, charred flesh, and melted plasteel. The burned flesh was bad enough, but the sharp, stinging smell of the melted plasteel was what he hated more. It just lingered in the air and burned the back of his throat.
Ignoring the putrid scent of the minute battle around him, it occurred to Gavan that what was planned as a simple arrest had suddenly escalated, and he probably could have avoided this by just surrendering. However, becoming a prisoner of the Empire was not an option. At first, they just saw him as a pest wandering through their territory, trespassing on land he shouldn't have, listening in on conversations that were never meant for public ears, and stealing an object they knew it was now too late to get back. However, it was the galaxy betraying him and forcing him to kill Lord Yaron, his courier, and a number of stormtroopers that brought the unending wrath of the Empire's pursuits of him.
And, it was this chase that Gavan needed to finish. The Empire apparently didn't know who he truly was and what he was capable of doing, so if they got him into an interrogation, he wasn't certain he would have what it takes to survive the techniques he had been warned about being inflicted. Pain he could handle. He didn't like it, but he could handle it. Darth Vader, on the other hand, was the one being in the entire galaxy he knew could extract everything about him and everything he knew. If he got imprisoned in the Empire, it would only be a matter of time before someone starting figuring out who he was, and then, he couldn't promise he could hold all those secrets – secrets that weren't all his.
He had been trained from a young age to undertake a greater cause, and if the likes of indoctrinated stormtroopers were foolish enough to cross his path intending to take him prisoner, he would do whatever he could to stay free of the Empire's grasp. To those who had no idea of his purpose, it was easy to perceive him as a murderer. However, there was a need for his self-preservation, and it didn't have to do with taking lives, but rather saving them.
Taking a breath and exhaling it as he moved, Gavan twisted himself around and forced aside the apprehension of being imprisoned. The maneuver he had pulled with the two human shields always seemed to surprise his opponents, giving him the advantage for an extra second or two. And, that extra fraction of time in this moment allowed him to rise up and kick the stormtrooper behind him with a strong jab from his left foot. It was a solid strike, sending the trooper falling backwards into a table and smashing it as he landed on his buttocks, arms flailing to find balance and footing that wasn't there.
Now Gavan had enough time to drop the dead stormtrooper from his right blade. Still taking advantage of the other trooper's surprise at how quickly his three comrades were being taken down, Gavan didn't hesitate as he twisted his right arm around the front of him, retracting the blade now that he had his right hand free and pulled the ancient, but reliable, DC-17 hand blaster from the holster at his left side.
The stormtrooper that was still standing with his blaster firing had stopped as soon as he realized he was only hitting his former squad mate in the back of his body armor. That was the moment Gavan had planned, and as his left blade was dropping that dead stormtrooper from it, his right came up with the blaster, firing into the white plasteel, turning it black from carbon scoring. The trooper fell backwards as the shots decimated his armor, and he crumpled to the floor in a mess of burned flesh and burned armor.
Spinning to the stormtrooper behind him, Gavan saw that the white-shelled soldier was getting his feet back under him and fumbling with his blaster while wildly screaming over his comm unit, "Men down! Men…"
However, Gavan didn't give him the time to finish his call for help, as he fired the blaster, creating another round of carbon scoring and burnt flesh aromas.
Even after watching the last trooper go down in a pile of death, Gavan moved for an extra round of observation. He slowly rotated within the room, assessing it for other threats as he fell into a ready position with the blaster in his right and the hidden blade still at the ready on his left wrist.
Finding no other movement, Gavan waited only a moment longer, expecting one of the stormtroopers to rise because he had missed the mark. However, none of the four men rose, but the alert had been put out. Now, it was just a matter of time before they tracked him down, and he spared the chance of pausing before he took off running. He stood in his position – this waiting stance – listening carefully outside the tavern and expecting the door to come blasting in at him with a full contingent of stormtroopers to follow.
He counted for three seconds, hearing nothing except his own breathing. It was his ritual to ensure he was now safe before retracting the blade and returning the blaster to its holster. Maybe the galaxy decided he needed another test because escaping from Lord Yaron's estate was just a little too easy. Well, if this was the test, then he passed with flying colors, and the galaxy can back the hell off for a while.
"You have my humblest apologies for the destruction," he softly told the barkeep, as he watched her rise from her place behind the bar where she had been hiding. He inclined his head slightly, offering a humbled bow and set the flimsi back on the counter she had given him. "I'm afraid I have to decline your offer."
Not bothering to stay long enough to hear her protests about the mess, Gavan stepped around the clutter of dead stormtroopers, deciding it was time to get off Blyne and find a hole to disappear into for a while. The Empire hadn't gone anywhere. In fact, it had not only recouped from its losses after the destruction of the Death Star nine months ago, it was growing and spreading even further. He had no idea what else the Empire had planned, and he really didn't want to find out. All he knew now was that the respite had ended, and the Empire was back to reclaiming the galaxy once again. Gavan needed to disappear as quickly as possible because he had inadvertently kicked the sting-wasp's nest on Blyne, and they had no intentions to forget about him.
Sliding the metal door open, Gavan stepped into the night of Crestowne and wanted to laugh at the irony. Breathing a mix of frustration at this new predicament, he really hated it that the galaxy wasn't done playing with him just yet. He saw white flashes coming towards the Fly by Night under the glowlamps above the small town's buildings and quickly counted twelve stormtroopers. Gavan decided he was going to make a mad dash to his ship, but if these stormtroopers didn't give him enough slack to do that, he would just take out whomever he could along the way.
