"You'll join us in celebrating, of course?" The Duke spread his arms in welcome. "The children will so much want to speak with you, and I'm certain you have many tales of Jedi courage to share. Your crew as well!"

Standing next to Duke Charle Organa on a palace balcony, Jedi Consular Aitahea Daviin finally relaxed enough to let go of the sigh it seemed like she'd been holding in for months. The Force plague had kept her on Tatooine for so long she'd thought she could never bear sunlight again, but the familiar comfort of the alpine breeze and docile morning light was a soothing change from Tatooine's punishing binary system.

Despite her sunburned cheeks, Aitahea's eyes sported sunken shadows, her already delicate features too hollow. Her crew had doubled since leaving Coruscant; Tharan Cedrax and his assistant, Holiday, had decided to join Aitahea and Qyzen on the Luminous after their work on Nar Shaddaa had been completed. Adjusting to new allies and personalities was taking time, as expected, but Aitahea found herself appreciating the quiet busyness on board. It distracted from the worry and strain of their mission, a burden she stubbornly refused to share. Locating Master Sidonie on Alderaan should mean the end of this particular search.

The consular prided herself on entering every situation with the best intentions. What she returned with each time was something a little different; with each healing, each new link to Vivicar, another barbed hook anchored in her spirit. Just a little more.

Returning to Alderaan should have been a welcome respite, but with Vivicar's Force plague intensifying across the galaxy, she had no time to rest. The Council was counting on her established connections with House Organa, but the nobility was not all-powerful. Her contacts were sending messages and holos in circles, leading Aitahea on a wild bantha chase instead of taking her directly to the at-risk Master Sidonie. It would be nearly a day before she could even meet her first contact.

Perhaps she should take a few hours for dinner after all.

"Thank you. I'm honored to be welcome at your table, Your Grace."

The Duke smiled magnanimously at Aitahea, who suddenly felt a very great deal younger than she had a moment ago. "Good. We'll eat and drink and strategize and show the world we still have hope."

Aitahea nodded wistfully. Hope.

As a youngling, coming to Alderaan after the chaos of the Sacking of Coruscant had been a privilege and a blessing. Her time here as an initiate had been filled not only with growth and change, but also a substantial and comforting structure that Aitahea had excelled within. The alpine valleys had swiftly earned her affection in place of the urban landscape of Coruscant, and she had felt welcomed and cherished in House Organa.

The formality of the royal houses, the pomp and circumstance of court, and the composed, formidable women of Alderaan had inspired Aitahea to wear her hair in a similar manner, braids wound into a bright but less elaborate coronet. The struggle of maintaining both public and private lives in the face of Alderaan's seemingly endless brawl for rule had seemed a magical dance that they completed with admirable grace, and Aitahea had watched them eagerly, nurturing a love for peaceful diplomacy.

She'd found a strangely familiar family in the Duke and Duchess, as well as in their children. The handful of other Jedi younglings that she'd joined in the enclave had welcomed and accepted her, but they had never quite become the family that her first clan had been. Nor her biological family, still residing on Coruscant. With the vastness of space now between them instead of just a quick speeder ride, her unique attachment to her parents and younger sister had languished.

She had also loved the stolen moments of silliness that had let her feel like an ordinary child, without the looming responsibilities of a swiftly growing initiate, without the memories of terror and fear that no child should have. The time she and the other younglings of the Jedi Enclave had snuck into a private revel and filched several bottles of wine that none of them had been brave enough to taste. Even her first kiss, hiding in an alcove during the very same thievery incident, in these very halls.

Lost in thought, Aitahea startled a little when the Duke tucked a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear, the motion gentle and paternal. "Child, what troubles you?"

The Duke's concern enveloped her, even without the use of her empathic senses. She blinked back a sudden stinging in her eyes. "So many things, Your Grace, I scarcely know where I would even begin." She turned, offering a sentimental smile. "But at the moment I was only recalling the fond memories I made here."

"You are always welcome on–"

Aitahea turned as the sound of rapid footfalls came into hearing, alerted by the sudden urgent presence. Haley Organa, barely more than a boy when Aitahea had left for Tython, sprinted down the hallway to where Duke Organa and the Jedi stood. He slowed, taking a few deep breaths before speaking, brow creasing a little when he caught sight of Aitahea's face.

"My lord? There's a call coming in on your secure channel."

"Thank you, Haley." He shifted slightly to include the now wholly composed Jedi. "You may remember Aitahea Daviin, now a full Jedi of the Order, formerly a member of our own enclave."

Recognition flickered in the younger man's eyes, followed by an efficient bow. "Master Jedi, welcome back to Alderaan."

"Pleased to see you again, Haley. Let's not delay." Aitahea wondered as they turned to follow Haley if the command room was where she remembered.

As they walked, Duke Organa provided Aitahea with some of the more sensitive details about the strife between the noble houses, how the aggressions had accelerated in recent days, even prompting the involvement of the Republic military in an official capacity. The escalations hadn't escaped Aitahea's notice even while she continued on her own missions; Erithon's messages had kept her apprised of information she might not otherwise have been party to.

Neither of them had been foolish enough to risk sensitive data in their communications, but Aitahea had a reasonable amount of faith that the Jedi Order's slicers could keep her missives secure, and either way it was him. She'd been more disappointed than she would admit when they kept missing key starports by days, even hours once, ships literally passing in the unreal night of hyperspace. What she found herself most irked with at the moment was an unviewed holo practically burning a hole in her comm, but Aitahea hadn't had a moment to herself since they'd arrived. It would be nice to hear his voice. To be fair she'd sneaked a peek at his service record just once a few weeks ago, curious when his birthdate was, purely for debriefing reasons and she hadn't known his service holo was included in the file so that had been a nice surprise…

Haley was ushering them into the command room when Duke Organa paused to gaze closely at Aitahea, who found herself with her hands at her temples, disoriented. "Master Jedi? Aitahea?"

"Oh," she gasped, lashes fluttering. "Forgive me, it's nothing." The Jedi shook her head, refocusing – if only there had been time for a moment of rest.

The Duke pressed a hand under Aitahea's elbow, regret creasing his brow as he led her into the room. "I'm sorry that this will likely add to your burden. Introductions proper will have to wait. Master Aitahea; General Kashim."

Aitahea nodded to the Duros. "General, may the Force be with us."

"Indeed," he replied before turning back to the Duke. "Your Grace, by your leave."

Charle Organa narrowed his eyes as the holocamera whirred. "Put it through, General."

Aitahea found her fingers brushing against her lightsaber hilt and quickly clasped her hands at her waist, pulling in a steadying breath.

The holo flickered to life; the being's size ridiculously exaggerated, it dominated the holotable, wildly disproportionate to the beings in the room. A human smirked down at the Duke and his advisors, a misplaced and blustering bravado coating his words. "It's been a long time, my lord Duke. Who is your friend?"

Organa waved his hand impatiently. "If she should wish to speak to the Wolf Baron of House Thul, she'll do so herself." The Duke tilted his head and the holocam swiveled.

Aitahea took a step forward, her demeanor vulnerable and gently diplomatic as she opened her hands beseechingly. "Baron Thul, my name is Aitahea Daviin, a Jedi Consular and friend to House Organa. Your Lordship, I'm told you ordered the land bombed and the turrets captured."

Thul sneered, tossing his head back, but his gaze was still calculating. He answered leisurely. "I did, yes. Your Republic friends may have retaken the Spears of Organa, but they served my purpose – scattering your people and sending them straight into my hands."

Aitahea struggled to hide a sharp swell of apprehension; she knew Organa had involved some military resources in returning the Spears into the right hands, yet this was the first mention from someone other than Organa himself. This in addition to the wild rumors of Sith on the ground in the highlands. It seemed like madness.

Organa drew himself up and glared at the holocamera. "What are you saying, Baron?"

The Wolf Baron scowled impatiently. "I'm saying that House Thul has taken three hundred Organa citizens captive." The man's lips twisted viciously as he savored their shock. "I thought you'd want to know."

The Duke reeled back a step, and General Kashim gripped the edge of the holoprojector. After a breath, Aitahea lifted her eyes to the hologram again, her words low and measured. "Make your demands, Your Lordship. We're listening."

"Talk, Baron, before my patience runs out!" Organa snapped furiously. Aitahea remained still as a frozen pond, attention fixed on the holo while she flooded the Force around them with subtle patience.

Thul took his time smoothing his hands over his tunic before peevishly clearing his throat, all while Organa fumed and the Jedi waited with seemingly boundless tranquility. "I'd like to meet in person to civilly discuss the fate of my prisoners." Organa bit back a snarl, while Aitahea stiffened at the words 'my prisoners'. "I'm sending a time and coordinates now.

"In the meantime, your people will be treated well." The Baron leaned back, hooking his thumbs into his belt as though he'd just pronounced some magnanimous gift, but a vicious glint remained in his eyes. "The incident with your son-in-law will not be repeated."

The line went dead.

Aitahea's practiced façade faltered as she tried to unravel the Baron's final words. "With your… Your Grace, what does he mean?"

Organa stared at his clenched fist, unhearing. "Damn him! Damn his eyes!"

Kashim folded his arms. "I suggest you remain calm. This is the Wolf Baron's trap."

Organa rounded on the general, venting his frustration. "I'm not a fool! But a ruler who can't protect his people is no ruler at all." The Duke shook his head, squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply. Aitahea felt a twinge of irritation; the influences she had attempted to weave into the pattern of the Force were fading all too rapidly under Organa's emotive tirade. "I have to go."

"No, Your Grace." Aitahea lifted her chin, an elegant motion filled with quiet confidence. "Allow me to handle the Wolf Baron."

Organa turned to the Jedi, worry clear in his eyes. "My dear, I cannot place you at risk."

"Your Grace, before I ever stepped foot on Tython, my training here prepared me for ordeals just like this. Your household equipped me for this very moment. The very least I can do is protect the house that so generously sheltered me when I was young."

The Duke's face softened. "My dear Aitahea – Master Aitahea – you are among Alderaan's bravest daughters, and our best hope. You will not go alone."

"Thank you, Your Grace. We will rescue your people. The Force is with us."

"Lead the way, and I will follow. Sweep aside the Wolf Baron's Blackguard, his assassins. He wants to meet? Let us meet on even terms."

Kashim nodded severely. "House Thul will be massing its forces. I will prepare our troops while you confront the Wolf Baron."

"Thank you, General. And Aitahea, I wish this were under better circumstances, but…" The duke straightened proudly and gave her a level stare. "I pronounce you a paladin of House Organa, my beacon in the dark."

Aitahea felt something flutter in her chest and pursed her lips at the phrase before nodding her acceptance. "It is an honor, Your Grace." Swept up in the solemnity of the moment, she dropped into a low curtsey, more elaborate and demonstrative than her usual motion of hand to heart, drawn directly from the customs of the court.

"Master Jedi." Organa leaned forward to take Aitahea's trembling hands and drew her back to her feet with an encouraging smile. "It is your valor I salute. Your word I believe. Clear the path, my friend, and let us look evil in the eye."