Dawn light filters through the small, utilitarian window in Galaar's room. The rays stretch across the bed, highlighting Xalonie's pale skin. Her neck and shoulder are still tinged with green spider-webbing, but just having her laid next to him erases any unease the discoloration would normally cause.

She stirs awake when he brushes her arm with the back of his knuckles. "Is it morning already?" Her voice comes from a round droid now, instead of the mask, but Galaar is already used to hearing it in unusual places.

"It is, cyare, and you finally came back to me." He presses his forehead against hers and then wraps his arms around her, pulling her against him. "I missed you."

"Barely a day passed for me," she shakes her head. "But it has been weeks for you."

"You don't… remember what happened between losing your memory and getting it back?"

"Bits and pieces. The alor started called me Lalat. It is… nice to have a name given out of affection for once." She laces her fingers through his and holds his hand.

"I'm sure the guys would enjoy that. I don't think they were brave enough to do it without your say-so even if you didn't have your memories." He kisses her temple. "And since you're legally dead in the Empire, you're due for a new name, anyway."

She nods, but says nothing.

"Cyare, there's also, well, what are you… going to do now that you're 'dead?' You can't exactly go back to being a military Sith."

She tilts her head to look him in the eye. "I thought my plans were obvious."

"I just- That is-"

"Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinul ahn. Mhi ba'juri verde."

Galaar repeats the words of binding, of marriage, back to her in a rush, not even stopping for breath. Afterwards, he takes her face in both of his hands and kisses her gently. He speaks against her lips. "When you said it last night, I thought you were just saying. Not that you- That we-"

"Xalonie is dead. I am no longer trapped in her cage."

"Cin'vhetin, cyare, that's our word for it. Your old life is gone. All that you are starts when you become mando'ad."

"Technically, I still need to be adopted."

Galaar laughs. "Do you really want to talk about this now? Here?"

"I am Force sensitive, Gal. We cannot pretend it will be easy. Your brothers accepted me as a commander, but as vod? It asks a great deal."

Galaar runs his fingers through her hair. "They love you. More importantly, they trust you. No one outside of Cerar has to know. As long as you don't suggest something like Demagol, there won't be a problem."

"Demagol?"

"...You don't know who Demagol is? But when you didn't have your memories, you…"

She touches his arm with two fingers. "You are thinking about it too hard. I am sure I know who that is, but with all of my memories, it is not important, so I cannot recall."

"Right. That would make sense. Well, he was… He did bad things. Experiments with mando'ade and Force users. It was… a dark time for us." He pushes his face against hers. "I don't want to talk about him when I finally have you back."

"Of course not, Gal." She strokes his cheek and ruffles his hair.

Another thought strikes him. "You're calling me Gal, but last night you woke me by calling me cyare..?"

She narrows her eyes at him, confusion twisting her brow. "You heard that?"

"Yeah, that's why I woke up."

"Gal, cyare, I was speaking to you with the Force. You should not have been able to hear that."

"...Unless I was Force sensitive?"

"Yes, but you are not. I checked." Lalat presses one of her palms against his chest and the other on his temple. "...This is simply not possible."

"Who you were without your memories, she said I was Force sensitive. That I couldn't run from it."

She shakes her head. "You are. Barely. You were not before. I would have told you." Lalat takes his hands in her tiny ones. "There is nothing to fear, cyare. She was right. You cannot ignore this, but are you not alone."

"Our children. They would have it, too."

"Maybe. Gal, remember you were born to be Force sensitive and by some chance were not."

"But you are so strong!"

"Not anymore." She rubs her left arm, far more tainted by the Sith poison than the right. "Most of my power came from Sa'alle's rituals. That power is now gone." Lalat squeezes his hands. "Unless they were strong in the Force, we need not worry. All I am is better with a vibroblade than any of our vod could hope to be."

"The thought of… having the Force is… It's frightening."

"We will deal with it together, cyare."

"I don't know… All of this, Lalat. It's all new and foreign. I love you. I've loved you, but I never thought it would last, let alone that you would…"

"Get it out now. We will need to be arrogant and self-assured when we have them. If we are not confident in our ability to handle it, they will not be comfortable with it."

"You're right. You're wonderful. Perfect." He hugs her tightly. "Wilks and I will finish up the work you had planned and then we're free. Completely, utterly free."

Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinul ahn. Mhi ba'juri verde. - We are one when together. We are one when parted. We share all. We will raise warriors. (This is the entirety of the Mandalorian "marriage vows" as mentioned in the previous chapter.)