Hera was exhausted.

Between the nearly botched mission at Reklam Station, the constant demands of a growing rebellion, and the increasing stakes her crew was often put in, she was beginning to feel the wear and tear, even more so than when they lost Ahsoka.

Perhaps…she did overreact when she demoted Ezra back down to Lieutenant and stripped him of his command for the time being. After all, he did see his team back in one piece, and he delivered those Y-Wing bombers to General Dodonna as promised. On the other hand, though, he had deliberately ignored her direct orders to wait for reinforcements, and thus had nearly gotten Rex killed. Not to mention he did lose the Phantom, which did nothing to ease her headache.

She didn't know. Maybe she was being far too hard on him. Maybe he needed to learn some more about the dangers of recklessness.

Fat chance of that, she thought with a wistful and affectionate smile. Look at the man he considers his second father.

Currently, Kanan and Ezra were on a supply run to Arkanis, leaving the Ghost to herself, Chop, Sabine, Zeb, and Robb, while Rex was busy training the new recruits coming in. She silently wished, though, that they'd find a replacement for the Phantom, soon. Perhaps they'd hit a stroke of luck, and find an old shuttle that could use a quick fix up and one of Sabine's paint jobs.

"Brt wort wurt burt bort," Chopper bleeped, coming up behind Hera as she was leaning in the Ghost's pilot chair.

"Hm?" she asked tiredly, finally noticing the feisty little droid. "Oh, sorry Chopper. I was…" she yawned. "…just trying to get some rest."

"Blllllrrrrrrtttttt wort wort wort!" Chopper responded, waving his mechanical appendages around for dramatic effect. Hera rolled her eyes at her oldest friend.

"Well, of course, you don't need rest. I do. Besides, you can't tell me the back to back missions haven't drained your power cells," she countered, smirking when the astromech made an annoyed sounding beep.

"Bort wut roto ree to rut," Chopper informed her. Hera's eyebrows shot up in amazement.

"Really? Mr. 'Grouchy, grim, and bitter' is actually training with our resident Mandalorian artist?" she repeated, becoming intrigued at the notion. "I've got to see this."

She quickly got up, ignoring her aching, protesting muscles, and hurried down the ladder to the cargo bay.

"All I'm saying, Lady Wren, is that you might be better at marksmanship, electro-mechanics, and linguistics than everyone else on this ship, but I bet good money that I can beat you any day of the week in a sword-fight. Double if it were matters involving strategy and tactics," Robb was boasting. Hera noted that he wasn't being grim, serious, and generally a prick to everyone else on the ship. Instead, he was being…congenial.

Friendly.

The most foreign thing about all of this was the look in Robb's eyes; his blue eyes weren't their usually cold, hard sapphires.

Rather, they had become warmer, softer azure seas.

"Oh-ho. Is that right, 'your grace'?" the young Mandalorian challenged back, making a mock bow before him. "Then, by all means, prove it."

Robb shrugged, grabbing a couple of wooden swords that Kanan and Zeb had made a few years back and handing one to Sabine.

"Alright, little one," he teased, earning a glare from the defiant warrior. "Rules are; three hits win the match. You beat me, you get to paint my room. I beat you, you get to teach me Mando'a. Deal?"

Sabine nodded, and the two saluted with their swords. Robb immediately went to a low guard position, his sword angled down and to the front, while Sabine adopted a high guard, her blade angled above her head.

Sabine struck first, her blow aimed for Robb's head. Robb parried the blow, sidestepping as he did, and brought his blade to her midsection. The younger warrior blocked it just in time, and then another one as Robb swung his sword around and aimed another strike at her shoulder.

"You do not strike, my lady!" he mocked, smirking as he kept up the offensive, "You fail!" He then switched to a defensive posture, letting Sabine land blow after blow against his sword.

"You're the one who's about to flail, di'kut!" Sabine cursed in Mando'a, clearly getting frustrated as Robb parried, batted aside, or just flat out avoided her blows.

"Says the girl who's failing to even land a hit on me." He jested as he sidestepped another blow and landed one of his own on Sabine's back. "That's one. Two more, and I win the match."

Hera heard Sabine curse under her breath, as Robb immediately went back on the attack, this time not letting her catch a break. All it took was for Sabine to slip up, missing what should have been an easy parry in Hera's eyes and winced when Robb hit her again on the shoulder.

"Two," he said, again adopting a defensive posture. "I hope you haven't forgotten how to speak your own native tongue," he mocked.

With a wordless battle cry, Sabine launched herself at her mock opponent, raining blow after blow down against Robb, who just kept avoiding and dodging her strikes, treating it as a game. Hera recognized what he was doing easily enough; he was getting into her head- messing with her mind so that she would make sloppier, more frequent mistakes.

And it was working.

The young daughter of Mandalore slipped up when she overcommitted on one strike, missing Robb by a parsec. When she corrected and turned around, her eyes shot up in surprise, for Robb's blade was already at her throat.

"Three," he smirked. "I win."

Sabine frowned at him, before shoving her wooden sword into Zeb's hands, much to the Lasat's confusion, before huffing at the former king.

"Fine. I'll teach you how to speak the language."

Robb nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. And if you desire, I can teach you how to improve your sword work," he smirked again. "Who knows? You train with me long enough, you might even be able to knock Ezra down a few pegs. Wipe that cocky grin off his face."

A ghost of a smile graced Sabine's lips. "Alright, Stark. You have a deal. I teach you Mando'a, you teach me how to get better with a sword."

Robb nodded again, as the two shook hands. The pair soon parted ways, and a few moments later, Hera found herself conversing with Robb in the cargo hold, along with Chopper.

"So, where did you learn to fight like that?" Hera asked him. "I'm pretty sure Sabine's old clan trained her in some blade-work, and yet you beat her like she was a novice."

Robb shrugged. "My father taught me, along with our master-at-arms, Rodrick Cassel. I've trained with steel ever since I was seven, to be frank," he informed them. "I was good enough with the sword, I suppose, but Jon…now, he was a true swordsman," he said, a smile full of memory graced the son of Winterfell's lips. "I daresay that he was nearly as good as some of the legendary knights such as Arthur Dayne and Jaime Lannister."

Hera was curious, now. "What was your family like? Truly?"

Robb sighed in contentment. "Well, Arya was, like I said a month ago, free-spirited, rebellious, and wild; she would have gotten on well with Sabine, I imagine. Bran was just as curious and free, although he later grew more somber after being crippled. Rickon, now he was the wild one, and I suspect underneath the fiercest of us all. Sansa was graceful, made friends easily, and saw the good in just about everyone. She loved singing, dancing, and just being the best lady she could be, in general," he looked up towards the cockpit, his smile faltering a little. "Jon was the spitting image of our lord father, in both appearance and personality; he was grim, just, caring, and dutiful. He always felt like an outcast, though. Our mother didn't think highly of him being a 'bastard'," his smile then truly soured. "The less I speak of Theon, the better."

Hera nodded and kept her mouth shut, understanding what Robb meant. It wasn't easy dealing with betrayal, especially by those considered family.

Kanan, Sabine, and herself had experiences in that department.

Robb's chuckle broke her out of her musings. "There was this one time that Jon, Theon, and I decided to pull a prank on Sansa, so we had Jon cover himself in flower and hide in the crypts, while Theon and myself got the younger ones, telling them that 'we found something wonderful down there'. We head down to the crypts, past the statue of Torrhen Stark, when Jon jumps out and tries to scare everyone."

Her curiosity piqued again. "Did it work?" she asked.

"With Sansa…definitely. She ran out of the crypt screaming her bloody head off. Bran expressed amazement, Rickon was still fast asleep, and Arya…" he began chuckling again "…she just turns to me with this frustrated expression on her face, points to the entrance, where Sansa had run out of, and says in the most annoyed voice I heard from her, 'You're scaring the baby.'"

Hera began to chuckle and then began to laugh along with Robb, failing to hear the laughter of the remaining two crew members as they joined them in the hallway. The raucous laughter soon ceased, and Robb's smile faded somewhat.

"That was the day before we heard King Robert was coming to Winterfell. It was a much happier time for all of us, then."

"You had a wonderful family, it sounds to me," Zeb spoke up from behind her, crossing his arms with a warm smile on his face.

Robb's smile returned. "And I have one equally as amazing, now," he admitted. The Twi'lek pilot saw the former king pull his pendant out of his pocket. "My father once told me, long ago, that it is the lone wolf that dies, and the pack that survives. For the longest time after my death and rebirth, I thought him a fool. I, the lone wolf, carried on, while the pack was hunted down and slain. But it was after meeting you all that I began to see the truth in his words." He put the pendant back his pocket. "Alone, each one of you is formidable, but could never take on a lone garrison by yourselves, let alone an empire that stretches across the stars. Together, however, with your hearts and minds set on one purpose, you can bring down even the mightiest foe."

"Your father sounded like a wise man," Sabine observed, though Hera could also detect a slight strain of jealousy and longing in her words. A twang of sorrow and motherly affection shot across her heart. No one on the ship knew the exact details of what had happened between Sabine and her clan, but from what she could tell, they didn't exactly part on speaking terms, and much like Robb, she, too, at first preferred to spend unhealthy amounts of time alone in her room, distrusting everyone on the ship.

She often wondered if any of them knew how similar and broken they all were.

Robb nodded, an affirmative to Sabine's unspoken question. "He was. He was a just, yet kind ruler, and a stern but loving father. He did not primarily rule through fear and hatred, like Tywin Lannister and your Emperor do, although he did have to set an example from time to time. No, he instead was respected and loved, from the common man to his lords, and everywhere else in the realm, they spoke of how just and honorable he was." His face sobered. "And that honor cost him his life." He looked around. "When are we supposed to be back on Atollon, again?"

"In about 24 hours, approximately," Hera replied, also acknowledging his unasked question. "And before you ask- yes. I'm putting the ship on autopilot for now. Force knows we could all use the shut-eye."

"Can't argue with that logic," Zeb agreed, a bit enthusiastically. "With all the missions Sato's been pushing on us, my fur is starting to smell like a Wookiee's backside."

"And that's different from your normal smell how, exactly?" Sabine joked, smirking when Zeb made a half-serious scowl at her before stomping off to bed, muttering something about 'damned snarky teenagers' along the way. "But I've got to agree with him. We've been running ourselves ragged this past month, and I even haven't found the time to paint anything," she complained, before nodding to Hera and Robb. "I'll see you both in the A.M. Night." With that, she sauntered off to her room.

"Night, Sabine," Hera called out to her surrogate daughter, turning back to Robb. "And I hope you're going to get some sleep, as well."

Robb shot his hands up. "Don't worry, Hera. I will." He turned to walk back to his room, but not before giving Hera an affectionate smile.

"You know, Hera, you remind me of my own mother. She was just as fierce and protective as you are when it came to her children," he complimented. "So, trust me when I say that Ezra and Sabine are lucky to have you and Kanan as guardians," he nodded to her. "Good night, Captain."

She nodded back, a smile gracing her lips. "Good night, your grace."

Hera was walking through a palace, or perhaps it was a temple of some sort, on a city-world of trillions of sentient beings.

She figured the world to be Coruscant, for she recognized the outline of the Senate Building and 500 Republica in the distance. Therefore, she reasoned, the building she must be walking through was the Imperial Palace, formerly the Jedi Temple of old. She was young when her father took her to see Coruscant, then the beating heart of the Republic, but as the memories came back to her, she could remember where most of the buildings and districts lay.

As she continued walking inside the cavernous hallways of the seat of the Empire, she noticed something…odd.

Firstly, were the stormtroopers. Normally, one would expect the legions to be armored in all white, or red in the case of the Home Guard, but the color of the plastoid on these troops was tan, with orange and yellow highlights decorating the armor.

Secondly was the Royal Guard, who normally would be carrying some sort of polearm and concealing themselves with an intimidating looking mask, according to the briefings provided to her by the loyal bodyguards of Palpatine. These men, however, only wore something similar to a Mandalorian helmet or forwent helmets altogether, and instead of being dressed in blood red and black, they garbed themselves in white cloaks and bronzium plate. The most curious thing, however, was that these men were not wielding force pikes or halberds.

They were wielding lightsabers.

Thirdly, and perhaps the strangest thing, were the banners hanging from the walls. One would expect the flag of the Galactic Empire to look like it always had these past eighteen or so years; a jet black and stark white cog on a crimson field, intended to intimidate and impress. The flag that hung from the rafters and the balconies now, however, was starkly different.

A stylized phoenix, the color of the rising sun, flew against a background of sand, with a wintergreen bar gracing the bottom of the banner.

It was then she heard distant cheering, coming from what was obviously the main audience chamber. She walked at a faster pace, curious to see what the hub-bub was about in this place. A few twists and turns later, despite never having been to the palace before, she soon found herself at her destination.

A massive throng of people, ranging from humans to Twi'leks, to Wookiees, and everyone in between, were cheering and chanting. As Hera knew she was in a dream, she could not make out what they were saying…at least, at first.

At the far end of the great hall, there sat a throne atop a dais of marble. The throne itself looked monstrous- made from what appeared to be melted steel swords, and seemed as if it wanted to cut the man who sat upon it currently.

And the man who sat upon the throne did not look to be Palpatine, who Hera knew to be old and decrepit. Instead, this man was covered head to toe in bronzium plate and grey robes, the highlight of his attire being the mask he wore, which looked battle-scarred and old. To his right stood a man in his fifties, tall and able, a pin of a hand clasping a sword clasped to his doublet. To his left sat a woman in Mandalorian armor, her colors being that of Clan Wren, and a strange-looking lightsaber attached to her belt. She saw the man on the throne of iron take off his mask, his black-bearded, tan face starting to show…

KER-CLANG

Hera awoke to the violent rocking of her ship being pulled violently out of hyperspace, and of the klaxon alarms blaring in her ears, as she quickly got up and ran to the door, noticing that the emergency power had come on.

"Ion mine!" She heard Sabine shout in alarmed frustration. "Bastard was waiting for us at the waypoint. Pulled us out with an interdictor field straight into a couple of ion mines."

"Kriffing great!" she heard Zeb yell, as they ran to the cockpit. "All I'm was asking for was once, just karking once, that things go smoothly! But no, it can't ever be kriffing simple, can it?"

"Stow the cussing, Zeb!" Hera ordered. Bickering wouldn't do any good in a situation like this. "We need to think our way out of this mess. I didn't think the Empire used this route, often. And it's well scouted by our forces."

"Because it wasn't," Robb observed calmly. "We aren't being pulled in a belly of a Star Destroyer, nor is a light cruiser moving on an intercept course. There is, however, another freighter that's getting ready to board us."

Just as he finished, they heard a metallic clang near one of the Ghost's airlocks, indicating that, indeed, another craft had coupled with it. The crew exchanged one look at each other, then made a mad dash for the airlock, grabbing their weapons along the way. To her pride, her team got armored up and ready in record time, and soon rounded the corner-

-to find a nervous Chopper surrounded by three old, decrepit service droids wielding blasters, and behind them stood an equally aged Zabrak, his skin black and covered in red, jagged tattoos. His demented smile showed off his yellow, near-rotting teeth, and his sickly yellow eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, gleamed with a madness and desire for vengeance she seldom saw in a man.

"Ah, so our honorable captain and her crew join us," he spoke in a gravelly voice. So, he was an old madman….

Great.

"Please, forgive me for not introducing myself to you," he mocked. "I am Maul, and you and your Jedi friends have quite a few things I seek. Now, please, I really don't wish to harm any of you, but if you do not lay down your arms…then…well…I'll kill all of you, starting with this astromech," Maul threatened, pointing his lightsaber at Chopper's dome, as the droid warbled in alarm.

Hera's eyes widened in recognition. Of course, this must be the former Sith Lord who blinded Kanan and betrayed Ezra. She then narrowed her eyes. Oh, how she would like to make him pay for all the shit he's pulled…

"Begging your pardon," Robb spoke up before Hera could continue that train of thought and end the bastard in front of her. "What is it, exactly your seeking?"

"If I'm not mistaken…Mister…?" Maul began, inquiring to know what his name was before continuing any further.

"Stark," Robb simply replied, crossing his arms and holding his ground. Hera noticed that Robb had put his stoic mask back on, and his eyes were back to being cold sapphires. She knew, from all those months serving with him, was that it meant either one of two things; he was withholding something, or he was plotting to kill you.

For Maul's sake, she hoped it was the later.

"Well, Mister Stark, if I'm not mistaken, you are the hostage, and I am the hostage-taker. So, I frankly do not see how that gives you the right to demand anything of me."

"Not demanding, asking," Robb corrected him. "If it's on matters related to the Force, I could possibly help."

Maul laughed, cruelly and without mirth. "And how could you possibly help me in this matter? What I seek involves the use of Holocrons, one of the Jedi, and the other of the Sith. I hardly expect for someone like you to know something about that," he arrogantly assumed. "But…the Force surrounding you does intrigue me if I had to be honest."

Robb just stared at him. "True," he admitted. "I don't know much in the way regarding the nuances of Jedi and Sith artifacts, knowledge, power, or wisdom, but I do know one thing; I am a greenseer."

Hera didn't know what he had just said, and by the looks of it, neither did Maul.

"A…greenseer?" the former Sith Lord drew slowly, his look equal parts amused and annoyed. "I see. Pray tell, what is…greenseeing, exactly?"

"A Force ability few now possess," Robb calmly explained, and now Hera was curious to see where he was going with this. Truth be told, she didn't know whether Robb was being genuine or telling Maul a lie. "We can see visions of the past, present, and the future far more clearly than other Force-sensitives, without the use of aides like Holocrons," he continued.

Maul rubbed his chin, and to Hera's eye, he looked honestly intrigued.

"Ah. So, I assume your way would be less…risky, then?" he asked him. The Grey Wolf nodded.

"Aye. But it will also take longer. Days, at the worst," Robb pointed out, putting his arms behind his back. "The way I see it, sir, you have two options for you. One promises you something quick and easy, true enough, but it is also potentially fatal. The other will offer the same, or better, results, but at a far lower risk, though it will take longer than the first option," he scratched his beard. "And if one doesn't work, you can always default to the other one. So, either way, you still win."

Maul glowered at him, obviously reminding him of someone. "You know, you sound like a Jedi I fought over the years," he sneered. "I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't related."

Robb shrugged. "Not really. I'm far too ruthless and pragmatic to be a Jedi. Though I still do have a code of honor, if that means anything."

The former Sith appeared to mull it over, rubbing his chin for a few, thoughtful minutes, before finally deigning to respond. "You will come with me, unarmed." He began, wagging a finger in Robb's face, and to the Grey Wolf's credit, he remained as stoic and taciturn as ever, refusing to even so much as blink in Maul's presence.

What he did do, however, was unstrap his sword to his belt and hand it to Maul, also allowing himself to be handcuffed by one of the decrepit old service droids. Maul nodded to the droids, and the marched off into the old freighter with their captive, before Maul turned back to Hera, Robb's sword still in his hands.

"I still want those Holocrons. And I still want to see my apprentice bring them. I will send you the coordinates once we reach our destination," he warned, before turning back, walking to his ship, which a few moments later detached with a click, separating the remaining crew from the now-hostage Robb and his captor.

Hera turned to her crew, her voice filled with iron determination.

"Get Kanan and Ezra on call, now. We're going to meet up with them on Atollon, and find out where Maul took Robb."

"And then?" Zeb asked, his voice full of grim seriousness. Hera looked him in the eye and told everyone what they needed to know with a look. But just for good measure, she spoke her thoughts allowed.

"We are going to wherever he took him, rescue Robb, and ruin whatever Maul's planning. Nobody tries to harm this family. No one."

A/N: Ahhh, so good to be back!

Alright, this is where things start to diverge significantly from canon, and for good reason. Robb must have a reason for being in this story, after all, and not just to sit in the background while canon.

More foreshadowing coming from this story, as you may have noticed. I was honestly debating whether to put the dream sequence in here or not, but then I remembered the significance of dreams from both Martin's work and Lucas' story. Kudos to those who can guess what throne is being referred to in this story, and why it would be used in the main audience chamber in the Imperial Palace.

So, Maul has appeared, and instead of taking the entire crew hostage, he only takes one of them hostage, while threatening to kill every one of them if they don't live up to their end of the bargain. And the crew knows this is no idle threat.

Hopefully, I'm doing the Kanera pairing justice as I am doing the Sabezra pairing in this story.

Finally, a shoutout to my biggest reviewers and supporters; BrutusPrimus, HHunter101, Ahsokafanboy1138, Wikked Grin, ja54591, and especially MandoCommander.

Till the next!