"Until then, feast, celebrate, and hope we live to see a kinder age."

The Organa throne room was packed with jubilant soldiers and subjects, all of whom gave a cheer as the Duke offered his grand benediction. Erithon and his crew shared a good-natured shout with the rest, and Aitahea's smile was punctuated by her bright laughter. They'd returned from the assault triumphant and celebratory, Brant Sonn leading the troops in song as they had marched victorious through the Organa streets. Erithon had marveled when Aitahea had raised her own voice to join the soaring anthem. When she'd caught his astonished stare, Aitahea had laughed and leaned close to make herself heard over the other voices.

"Did you ever hear a lullaby called 'Star by Star'?" Erithon had nodded, still confused. "It's the same melody, simply with different words. Listen." And he had, snippets of some long-lost tune floating in and out of recognition as her voice had spiraled around him.

Once the forces had arrived at the palace, the Duke himself had announced that they would carry on with plans for a grand ball that was scheduled that evening – not to mention the revelries rippling throughout the region as news of their victory spread. After the hearty dismissal, Aitahea accompanied Erithon from the throne room, leading them toward the central hub of the castle.

"It seems the Duke insists on our remaining in the castle as guests," she explained. "Our belongings have been brought from our ships."

He blinked, surprised and uncertain. "Uh. Okay. Used to packing in my own kit; how's that work?"

The Jedi placed a soothing hand on his arm. "We're guests of House Organa. It's all very auspicious; they work with your protocol droid." She hesitated a breath, in the pause slipping her hand back to her side. When he caught her eyes again, they were warm but reserved. "Come, I'll show you to your rooms. The guest wing isn't far."

"Thank you." He offered her the lead and fell in easily at her side. "I'll admit, a shower with real water is awfully tempting. What are the odds?"

"Quite in your favor. I think you'll be more than pleased with the accommodations," Aitahea agreed as they crossed the wide expanse of the central hall. Subjects and nobles alike bustled through the vaulted space, making hasty preparations for the celebrations. No one seemed to take notice of the disheveled pair as Aitahea played impromptu hostess, answering Erithon's faltering questions about protocol among the nobility as they navigated the grand hallways.

"Fortunately, it's easier than several thousand years ago. At one time, there was a complex system of obeisance based on the height, metal, and number of gemstones on a noble's coronet." Aitahea lowered her voice conspiratorially. "It only ended after an entire household suffered severe neck injuries."

Erithon couldn't help but arch a brow. "You're making that up."

"I would never!" She wed a flutter of lashes with a too-innocent smile. "You can ask the Duke himself."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll ask him about that the next time I invite him on a wild glooth hunt. You can come, too," he taunted.

Aitahea's eyes sparkled. "I'd be delighted." She slowed to a stop near a set of elaborate doors. "This is the Apalis Wing. There's a private bedroom suite for you and each of your squad members; your belongings should be just inside. The keypad will prompt you to create a new code for the lock upon entry. If you need anything else, you can use the comm unit to contact the castle steward."

Erithon pushed open the doors and whistled low. "Can't imagine needing much of anything else here." The room was filled with elaborate furnishings and sumptuous fabrics, hinting at other luxuries through the open doors of the private suites. He wandered inside, looking back at the Jedi when she lingered at the threshold. "What if I need… you?" He held his breath after the last word, unexpectedly shocked that he'd had the audacity to say those words in that order.

Her gaze flickered away for a moment, aglow with reserved pleasure; when she returned her eyes to his, both her smile and blush remained sweetly steady.

"I'll be right across the hall."

"Great." Erithon started to breathe again, exhaling a chagrined chuckle. The sudden rush of his own pulse in his ears was impossibly loud. "Uh, thank you."

She took a step back, holding his gaze as she began to turn away. "See you this evening."

When Elara and Jorgan arrived a few moments later, he was still standing in the doorway, ruefully staring across the empty hallway. Erithon's squad mates exchanged a look just as Erithon roused at their approach.

"Oh. Hey." Erithon shuffled from one foot to the other. "Uh, how long have you been there?" Jorgan folded his arms, and Elara smiled broadly.

"Long enough, sir."

By the time the door clicked shut behind her, Aitahea was already halfway across the common room to her private suite, hands stuffed into her thranta's nest of sweat-stiffened hair in search of the pins that held it securely in place. Quickly abandoning that effort, she instead grimaced at the grit under her fingernails while she dictated a brief message to her private comm. Then she turned, looking for the refresher door, and caught sight of herself in a tall mirror. She nearly recoiled at the unfamiliar reflection: sallow skin smudged with soot, ragged hair that no thranta would deign to call a nest, thank you very much, and -

Aitahea took a breath, wrinkled her nose, and dissolved into laughter.

There is no emotion indeed!

Sinking down onto a gilded chaise, Aitahea wriggled out of her cloak and draped it over the back. After another bout of giggles passed, she again began trying to release her hair from its bonds, this time teasing out the tangles with gentle fingers.

A more measured glance around showed that her meager personal belongings had been supplemented with the palace's own necessities, all organized meticulously in her rooms. Over the holo earlier, Tharan had exclaimed about the opportunity to rub elbows with some of the nobility who, according to him, were more than eager to 'part with some of their fortunes for a connection on the cutting edge of science.' He - and presumably Holiday, in one format or another - had settled into their suite, but the third set of rooms remained empty of their last companion: Qyzen.

The Trandoshan had declined the Duke's invitation to both the palace and celebration, despite having the Duke's personal thanks for his role in the hostage crisis and the battle that had followed. He'd hunched down at Aitahea's shoulder as the column of soldiers had begun to file into the castle. Voices had dropped to muttered whispers as they'd passed by the warrior and Jedi. "Apologize if others stare."

Aitahea had whirled, a sudden protectiveness sharpening her expression. "Never apologize for others' conduct, my friend."

Qyzen Fess had remained silent for a long moment. "With Herald's leave, will find more private camp on Organa lands."

"With delight, Qyzen," Aitahea had answered. "Raise me on the comm any time."

He'd given a nod, then a shrewd glance with his good eye. "Remember promise."

Aitahea had smiled sheepishly. "I will. Good hunting."

Now, she could sense her friend moving steadily away from the Organa compound, into the deepest stands of the surrounding forests.

Markedly nearer, Erithon's bright presence beckoned, unaware, and she swallowed hard against an unfamiliar but not unwelcome tenderness. She put her hands to her still-flushed cheeks, warmth lingering in the wake of his hesitant question. "What if I need… you?" Why would he –

The urgent chiming of Aitahea's private comm startled her from her reverie, and she absentmindedly answered the summons to see Yuon Par's face resolve from the bright static.

"Oh! Yuon!" Even from systems away, her master's warm expression at once soothed Aitahea's frazzled nerves. "I was moments from contacting you. We've only just returned from the field."

"We've received reports of developments on Alderaan and had suspected your involvement. What's happened?"

"I was engaged in an… unexpected diplomatic incident."

Yuon pursed her lips wryly. "…Padawan."

Feeling like an initiate, Aitahea attempted to conceal a self-conscious squirm by pulling her half-unraveled hair over one shoulder. "It's the lieutenant."

Yuon's face bloomed into a delighted smile. "That's marvelous!"

Aitahea couldn't help but agree, feeling her face color – yet oddly grateful it wouldn't show up in the holo. "I miscalculated when assisting the Duke, and he happened to be part of my rescue."

"This doesn't sound like anything that's been in our intelligence."

Aitahea related their efforts on Alderaan so far: the Wolf Baron's hostage-taking, Aitahea's attempt at diplomacy, her subsequent rescue, and their success in the battle for the highlands.

"I see. This same man, met as a child, again on Taris, now here on your own childhood home." Yuon smartly ticked off items on her fingers. "And now after he rescues you from peril, you in turn tend to his grave injury on the field."

"Well, when you describe it like-"

Yuon's peal of laughter interrupted Aitahea's mumbled protests. "You must admit, it does sound a little like a holodrama. Has the military's public relations recruited him for a poster yet?"

Aitahea coughed sharply, recalling her indulgent vision of him the day before, helmet doffed not unlike the covers of a number of romance holos she'd seen. Sometimes Yuon was unsettlingly astute – even for a Jedi.

"You didn't hesitate like this with previous lovers," Yuon continued, both a little too suddenly and far too matter-of-factly for Aitahea's taste. The consular gaped at Yuon's visage, hands pressed to her blazing cheeks.

"Master!"

"Don't be ridiculous, youngling." Yuon looked uncharacteristically wistful for a moment, then shook her head and continued. "We may be Jedi, but we're still feeling beings. The Jedi way isn't the eradication of emotion, but the control of it."

"That's precisely my concern. Even with our best intentions… My-" she broke off, shaking her head, and tried again. "If I were to pursue… this, I would want to be able to devote- no, I mean, plan… I can't help but be afraid-" She wrinkled her brows in frustration and waved a hand as if to clear the air of her uncertain words. "This is the wrong time."

Yuon's expression softened. "You'll find that there is rarely a 'right' time, my student."

Aitahea drew her arms tight around herself. "I fear that as well."

"Fear will draw you closer to the dark side than love ever could." Eloquent as they were, Yuon's words were more troubling than comforting.

"Passion, yet serenity?" Aitahea wondered aloud, her frown softening into something more introspective.

"That sounds more like my Padawan." Yuon nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Take your time. Restore yourself. Alderaan was your home before you came to Tython. Are you comfortable there?"

Aitahea paused to consider. "The warm welcome was a little abbreviated, but we won a generous lead in the conflict here for House Organa and the Republic, nonetheless. I couldn't be more pleased with our progress."

"I'm not asking about your mission, Aitahea; I'm asking about you," Yuon pressed. "We can feel your protection, and we sense the burden you bear. I worry for you. We all do."

"I hope to get a little rest before the gala this evening." While she explained the Duke's planned celebration, Aitahea's gaze lingered on the unfamiliar gown that had ostensibly been delivered along with the rest of her things, hung on a changing screen, nearly aglow in the low light. According to the note attached, it was 'a gift in recognition of service to House Organa, compliments of the Duke and his family.' It was unquestionably the height of Alderaanian fashion, the simplicity of its lines embellished by an array of wings picked out in strands of tiny gems. The generous cut of the skirt and sleeves mimicked her usual robed silhouette, but the bared shoulders and lustrous gems were considerably different from her typical somber attire.

It delighted her enormously, yet left her worrying about how it might appear, a Jedi accepting gifts of such luxury. She'd admired the ladies of nobility as a child, coiffed and dressed in gowns just like this, but so far, she'd attended less than a handful of anything resembling a formal function. She'd rarely had the opportunity to wear anything other than the functional robes of her order, and certainly never something so breathtaking.

And, she thought with smug sensibility, someone you'd like very much to see you wearing it.

"Consider it a diplomatic event! Celebrating another successful joint mission between the Jedi and Republic. It's good for morale." Yuon gave Aitahea a pert smile, once again unreasonably astute. "I'll be looking for photos of you on the holonet tomorrow."

Aitahea smothered a choked giggle behind her hands. "Master."

Yuon gave Aitahea a blithe wave, laughing her farewell. "Have a lovely time, my Padawan! May the Force be with you."

Aitahea smiled fondly and picked up the comm to disconnect the call. A blinking light reminded her that Erithon's holo remained unviewed, and she intended for a moment to finally watch it. Her gaze slid from the communicator to the glittering dress before drifting over to the refresher door, halfway open and boasting of long-lost comforts. Aitahea dropped the device gently on the bed, humming the refrain of a lullaby.