This takes place in Chapter 24 during the reception on the Tafanda Bay, which is portrayed in Ruin from Jaina's POV.  This time we see it from Jag's POV.  Hope you enjoy!

THE EYES


Jag walked toward the dais with a crisp formality to his step, perfected from years of practice at the Academy. Behind him trailed a dozen blue-skinned Chiss, his adopted comrades. He held his wiry frame tall beneath his black uniform adorned with the blood-red stripes running along his pant legs and cuffing his sleeves.

Jag mounted the dais at a sharp step, leaving the Chiss in their white uniforms to file along the front of the platform below him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them snap to attention as they turned to the stage in unison. In that same glance, his eye was drawn to a pair of robed figures heading through the crowd in the direction of the dais. One was a tall man, who would have been stunningly handsome in his black and gray attire if not for the vivid scar running the length of his face.

The second figure was a petite form wrapped in a blue robe. The robe grabbed his attention, igniting a fleeting memory; the face kept it. Framed by brown flowing locks, the face was none other than that of Jaina Solo. In the second Jag had to process the information as she passed out of view, he realized she was wearing the distinctive attire of a Jedi, much like he had observed Master Luke Skywalker and his wife wearing before they, too, had entered the hall.

The discovery that Jaina Solo was a Jedi rocked Jag to the very foundation of his being. The thought had never occurred to him as his mind pondered her over the last couple of hours since meeting his uncle. He was not sure why this truth affected him so. What Jag could not shake was the vivid image of the haunting dream replaying in his mind. Her eyes reflected the brilliant violet rays emanating from the sword of light grasped in her hand. Now, Jag had no choice but to see those eyes for himself and thrust this frivolous sidebar from his mind once and for all.

Jag pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he reached Relal Tawron. He bowed sharply before taking his hand. The Ithorian high priest turned to introduce Jag to Borsk Fey'lya, but Jag had already moved, bypassing the Chief of State's Cabinet as well. Chiss society was based on a strict code of honor and truth. Power was earned through strength and actions. The lies and deception inherent in politicians was beneath everything the Chiss stood for, acknowledging their presence would only lower himself to their level.

Jag stopped again at Admiral Kre'fey and executed a stiffly formal bow. The Bothan admiral accepted his proffered hand. Jag continued down the line shaking each hand in turn, starting with Colonel Darklighter, the commander of Rogue Squadron. The New Republic colonel was courteous as he took Jag's hand, but his face revealed confusion over Jag's actions. Jag did not fret over the fact that a Rebel could not fathom the honor required to live among the Chiss.

Next in line was Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. Jag acknowledged the man for his prowess as a warrior and the honor required to sacrifice so much for the good of others. The Chiss held these values in high esteem. Taking the man's hand, Jag looked into his eyes and was drawn to the undeniable power lying beneath the surface. A Jedi, to the best of Jag's knowledge, relied on a mysterious gift called the Force and should not be taken lightly.  Jag berated himself; he should have anticipated that the daughter of Leia Organa Solo, the sister to this powerful Jedi, would have Force skills as well.  It was a well-known fact that the ability was usually inherited.

Jag moved on to accept the hand of Mara Jade Skywalker, a Jedi Master in her own right, and wife of the Jedi leader. This man and woman were the uncle and aunt of the brown-haired girl standing at the bottom of the dais, who kept dividing his mind's attention. Jag had not expected to see Jaina this evening. She would not have been invited as a pilot. Rogue pilots lacked the discipline to represent the New Republic at such a gathering. Her presence had to be required as a Jedi and dignitary based on her lineage. Now, the surprise left his thoughts wanting for focus. His only desire was to get off the dais and stare straight into her eyes once and for all. Everything else about the evening seemed irrelevant.

Jag ignored the gasps and hubbub that began to rise in the crowd. The noise seemed to strengthen as he bowed to his uncle. Wedge cast him an affectionate grin, which Jag politely returned, before the man enfolded him a hug. Jag stepped back and adjusted his uniform with a sharp tug at the base of the jacket, then continued on down the line. He could not get over his formalities with Admiral Pallaeon fast enough. There was no need to bother with the Imperial Moffs, the whole despicable flock of political vultures, so Jag made haste for the steps leading off the dais.

For once in Jag's life, he had no control over the path his feet chose. There was an urgent question that needed an answer, drawing him like a Ployi moth to a flame. Every step drew him closer to the truth, hidden in the eyes of Jaina Solo. As intent as his focus must have been on her, willing those eyes to look straight at him, Jag nearly lost his step as her brown eyes flashed wide at the sight of him striding her way.

The closer he got, the more he could not shake the truth. His ears buzzed with a white noise that drowned out all other stimuli. His eyes were deceived by the flash of snowflakes that swirled in front of them, increasing in volume with the mounting strength of the drone filling his mind. There was no violet light to reflect off the sparkling brown irises, flecked with a hue as deep as Corellian brandy, but there was no denying that they were indeed the same.

Jag's dream haunted him as flurries of snowflakes crowded his vision, fluttering around Jaina until they blew away in an apparent gust. This time though, the girl in his vision did not disappear with the flakes. She stood true and beautiful before him. The noise faded, and all that was left were two people in a room alone, locked in a silent moment of fate.

Jag drew himself up before her, straight of limb and muscularly taut, then snapped his head and upper body forward in a bow that was not as deep as that given to the others, but was nonetheless respectful. "I am Jagged Fel." He straightened, and she started to blush as his green-eyed gaze raked her over. "A Jedi, too. Fascinating."

Then Jaina blinked her eyes, and the spell over Jag released its hold long enough for him to realize the rashness of his move. Never in his life had Jag done something without considering every conceivable outcome like a move in Chadrapak. That was until today; and then, he had done so twice. Her eyes opened, and Jag was again under the spell of her bewitching stare. "Too?"

It must be some power Jedi have over those of us without Force skills. I would have hoped to be strong enough to resist, he thought as he replied. "In addition to being a superior pilot. You are a difficult kill." There you go you light-haired fool; now she will think you are hitting on her, paying her such a high compliment.

Jaina smiled at him as her eyes sparkled in a dance of liquid fire. "You meant that as a compliment."

Of course I did. Thank the maker, though, she did not take it as too high a praise. Remember, she does not have the same standards as you do. Jag nodded. "Among the Chiss, it is high praise indeed. I was only a bit better than you at your age."

Then another voice ripped Jag from the thrall of his enchantment, as it mocked his compliment. "Which was what, about two years ago?"

Jag turned to face the Jedi dressed in black and gray robes. He would have been as handsome as the men in his mother's holodramas, except for the fresh scar running the length of his face. This man, another Jedi, had escorted Jaina Solo here. To Jag's estimation, only a man as handsome as he had been would be worthy of the beauty instilled in the woman before him. The injury was a tragedy, but she must have been kind enough to see past it.

Jag refused to be embarrassed by this man; he almost felt a twinge of envy for the Jedi that obviously captivated Jaina Solo's heart. He wrestled the useless emotion and locked it away behind his steely emotional barriers. "Yes, just before I took command of my squadron."

Jag felt another presence at his side. "Colonel Fel."

"Yes, Uncle?" As Jag turned to face Wedge Antilles, he caught a strange look shared by the male Jedi and Jaina Solo. The fresh feeling of jealousy reared back out of the box he had shoved it into and ignited his soul on fire. What he would have given to be the one she affixed her attention. Jag mused over how one person could exercise complete and utter control over his sensibilities without even trying.

Lost in his thoughts, Jag barely registered his uncle's words. "You should return to the dais and greet those people you bypassed." Wedge nodded toward Borsk Fey'lya and his confederates. "They are fairly important."

She is the girl I have sought my whole life; that I had searched Csilla high and low for. The dreams had to be a sign. How could I know Jaina so completely without ever laying eyes on her, if it was no less than destiny? Mother had always said there would be a special woman for me and I would know it in my heart when I saw her. Now I finally find her, and fate has played a cruel trick on me.  She belongs to another.

The spite in his heart took control, and Jag felt a flame of fury erupt. This was not the time or place to lose control of his emotions, so Jag concentrated them on the one thing he could. He shook his head. "They're politicians."