Notes:
We have a new language introduced here-one that is completely unique and is not known commonly. I can't really speak of it without major spoilers.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Mand'alor rushed down the hallway toward Torian's room. The man with the tattooed face was standing beside the door with his arms crossed, his hip touching the wall, feet crossed at the ankle. Relaxed, his eyes closed as she approached. She turned to walk into the dark room, noticing an odd glowing movement on the wall just inside the room.
She had taken a step forward when her chest slammed into a solid form stopping her in her tracks. She looked down to see the man's arm across the doorway barring her from entering. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down, turning her eyes to look at him, the muscle in her jaw tensing and unlocking as she attempted to be civil.
This is my house.
"We need to talk," the man said, lowering his arm and gesturing further down the hallway, stepping away from the room.
She followed him, feeling exasperated by the entire situation and all she really wanted to do was check on Andare.
Well, and yes, of course Torian as well, but really.
She crossed her arms, her stance formal and rigid, "About?"
"My Sith is working in that room, it requires a lot of concentration, and it hurts her. I don't want you in there disturbing her."
Mand'alor studied the man, mollifying her initial response of wanting to pull out her blaster and shoot him between the eyes. His face didn't give much away to influence her away from violence and then she read something there—her body relaxing as she identified the emotion, a true fear—a fear for his Sith, something she could certainly relate to at the moment and then an understated sense of affection for his Sith, which fueled the fear. Suddenly, to her own surprise she could actually find mutual ground with this man.
"I see," Mand'alor spoke softly, loosening in her stance in an effort to alleviate the hostility that was bouncing between them. The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hand jutting forward quickly. Mand'alor tempered her desire to draw her weapon at the fast movement, her hand resting on her blaster instead.
"Name's Andronikos," he smirked at her hand, fingers curved as if to grab at her weapon, unaffected, not even a little she noted as he continued to speak, "we don't have to kill each other. I think our goals are the same here."
She reached out and shook his hand firmly, "Shae Vizla," she released his hand, "and what goals are those?"
"To see the boy healed and back to good health. To make sure the people we love are not hurt in the process."
Her eyebrow shot up at that.
…love? What? How could he even know that…
"No need to worry," he huffed a short laugh, "no one else would guess, my Sith has a special talent for this kind of thing."
Mandalor laughed nervously, her palms sweating, "your Sith appears to have quite a lot of 'special talents' as far as I can tell."
Andronikos chuckled a deep belly laugh then, unabashed and clearly amused by what she had said, "you are not wrong, my friend, you are most certainly not wrong."
He gestured toward the door behind her as if urging her to enter the room. She nodded to him and quickly entered the normally dark room currently suffused with a light glow making it much easier to see as she navigated around the wall of machines to see Torian.
The Sith had climbed onto the bed, having somehow maneuvered around all of the cords and lines and tabs and was sitting at the very top of the bed with Torian's head resting on a pillow in her lap. She had both hands on his head and was glowing lightly all around her. Brilliant white, with glimmers of gold and other colors, shimmering off of the shiny consoles and glass screens around her. It was a breathtaking sight.
She was so enthralled by the vision before her eyes she did not notice Andare approach her, jumping when she touched her shoulder, shuffling her feet to try to hide her embarrassment.
Andare just looked down and away, then back up, gesturing to the side of the room away from the bed.
Mand'alor followed her there, suppressing the urge to ask about her wellbeing, instead settling for the less obvious, "update?"
"No changes, I'm not sure…." Andare looked at Mand'alor then, her eyes clouded with uncertainty, and Mand'alor wanted to shake her to find out what was wrong with her so she could fix it, "I mean to say, why is there a Sith here?"
Mand'alor relaxed as she realized that it was just the apprehension of a Sith in the room that was bothering Andare, shrugging, not entirely sure of the answer herself, "she says she means to heal him."
Andare nodded, staring across the room at the Sith, chewing on her bottom lip, "she said that. How does she know him though?"
"I'm not sure…it's not been made clear to me."
Andare looked down at the floor, shifting closer to Mand'alor, "she cried when she saw him."
Mand'alor glanced sideways at Andare, puzzled by this information, "really?"
The woman nodded in response, turning her back to the bed to look at Mand'alor, "Yes, she was shaking and suddenly burst into tears, like…weeping, mourning, and then she told me that she was going to heal him, and basically ignored me after that, but I just had…such a feeling of peace and love….but there was this other thing there, underneath, like this untapped fury—so much anger and it was just being held back by the lovely parts—and I just…well…I'm worried is all."
"About?" Mand'alor lifted an eyebrow toward Andare, glancing past her shoulder to the Sith and then back at her eyes again, "what exactly?"
Andare took a deep breath, "her finding out you did this to him."
Ah, of course.
Mand'alor reached out and touched Andare's cheek softly, then dropped her hand back to her side, "No need for worry, you let me handle that, and you just help that Sith any way she needs you to, okay?"
Andare shuddered internally, trying to keep herself from grabbing Mand'alor's hand and holding it to her face, overwhelmed at the intimacy of the small touch, trying to clear her head, then studied Mand'alor's stance, recognizing strength and determination, courage and the lack of fear entirely, then nodded her head, "of course, thank you."
The two women shifted and ended up standing so close the sides of their arms were touching as they watched the Sith.
"You should know, if she does find out and tries to…to hurt you…." Andare whispered, "…I'll…I'll have to at least try to stop her."
Mand'alor twisted slightly, unable to see Andare's face as her head was tilted down and her hair had fallen across it, she reached over and pushed her hair behind her ear, wanting to bend down to see Andare's face clearly but settling for the small view she had now.
"I know," Mand'alor breathed softly, "then I will have to kill her to stop her from hurting you."
Andare's face lifted up to look into Mand'alor's eyes, studying her, reading her, "you would, wouldn't you?"
Mand'alor nodded once.
Anything.
Andare reached out, taking Mand'lor's hand, holding it in her tiny one, breaking eye contact as she drew her attention back to the Sith and Torian.
Mand'alor stared at Andare far longer than would be polite, her hand tingling and warm, and right…wanting to sweep her up into her arms, stopping herself, as Andare deserved every moment of the pursuit. She took a deep breath and turned her body back to face the bed where the Sith was still glowing and Torian was still deathly pale and drawn looking.
They both jumped when the Sith spoke, rather loudly compared to the mood in the room, "you two can leave, I have no need of you here, and your emotions are distracting me."
Mand'alor laughed a nervous sounding giggle and chided herself for being so embarrassed, she was a grown woman!
"Imh'ite." The word wasn't a language Mand'alor had ever heard before—but it was said with such emphasis and borderline hostility she certainly got the gist of the meaning without forthright knowledge of it.
She looked over at Andare who was wide eyed like an animal who knew it was trapped, turning to look back at her, her shoulders shrugging lightly, a smile on her face, an admission of guilt or something familiar to it.
Mand'alor pulled on her hand, gesturing to leave the room and Andare followed.
I would follow you anywhere.
The Sith had not expected such a dramatic response when she walked into the room where Torian was being kept. She had felt a light current flowing across her skin, slightly painful but fully manageable, as she had approached the tent, but nothing could have prepared her for standing there with him. She was surprised by the size of his aura given how weak he was physically, but when her body breached the edge of it, she was overwhelmed by the magnitude of his emotions, of his loss.
She reeled from it, bracing herself as wave after wave washed through her. She began to cry, to weep over the lost moments, over the way his soul had mourned for his beloved. How lost he had been, how lost he still is. She marveled at how truly, truly blessed Raeyn was to have such love bound to her. She was thankful for that at least. Once the initial fall of emotions had passed she made her way over to his bed, carefully shifted cords and cables until she could sit at the top of the bed, placing his head in her lap, her hands spanning around his head, fingers laying lovingly on his face, she reached into him, unable to stop her face from twisting with the degree of pain and brokenness that his body was enduring, rushing through the force between them.
I'm here now. I will help you. I will give you back your light. Be still little one.
She felt a flash of anger course through her, the thought how this had happened, the forces responsible for it, but she quickly shut the thoughts down knowing well they would slow the healing process, quickly centered herself, dismissing it and focusing on Torian, his heart beating, too slow, so sluggish, his body giving up, one molecule at a time.
This is going to take a while. Days, maybe weeks? I'll stay the course.
She settled down into the pillows around her, breathing in and releasing her light across him, her energy feeding into the ebb and flow—a dull pain beginning to throb all around her, constricting and suffocating in its nature. She tried to focus inside him, on the healing process, instead of on what her body was feeling, the slow draw of life from her pool, like a needle pricking the same spot over and over again. Raw and exposed.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed past her body's protests, to find a place of wonder inside Torian's soul.
She smiled as the first memory flew across his mind.
It was an interesting experience for her, being inside Torian's mind, having already been inside Raeyn's and knowing her side of the memories as well, creating a fullness to the visions that would be lacking otherwise. It would be comparable to watching a single 2D hologram versus one projecting from all sides. The same picture but missing the depth and details of the single cast.
Torian had been standing there in that room for as long as he could remember. Something was holding up the proceedings, giving him plenty of time to allow his nerves to work up into a practical frenzy—and he wasn't even sure why he was even there. He was surrounded by a room full of Mandalorian clan leaders and high level advisors, all of them renowned—it was like a who's who of Mandalorian culture—and all of them stood in good favor with Mand'alor.
The real issue was that he was sent a personal invitation to attend, something so alarming he had actually finagled a way to meet up with Corridan, who had also received an invitation, so he could verify it was a real invitation and not a clever replication meant to be a cruel practical joke. Once the legitimacy of the invitation was verified, his real problems began-since for whatever reason he could not possibly guess, he was actually invited to this event by Mand'alor himself.
There was no secret the current Mand'alor, Artus, had zero affection for Clan Cadera, given the fact he had basically executed all of them apart from the few children and, of course, the instigator responsible for the break with the clans—his own father Jicoln.
Admittedly, he should feel honored by the opportunity to be here, but instead he had spent an inordinate amount of time trying to come up with a viable excuse to not go, which given the nature of being Mandalorian was basically impossible to do. He knew as well as anyone, when Mand'alor asked, you delivered, that combined with the drive inside himself so intent on never following in his father's footsteps—resulted in his presence in this room.
Corridan huffed beside him, glancing across the space at the doorway, "What could possibly be taking so long? The runner said that the Champion's shuttle landed an hour ago! I was in the middle of a conference with two other Clans planning our next attack."
Corridan glanced back at Torian who looked for all purposes to be ready to pass out right there in the middle of the room, "You okay?"
Torian jumped, looking around wildly, "What?" He looked at Corridan who just stared at him expectantly.
"I'm fine, I just….I don't even know what I am doing here…and I keep feeling like something is going to happen."
Corridan slapped him on the shoulder then, laughing lightly, "Ner vod, you always have a feeling about something or another, this time just let yourself be still—there is supposed to be a feast after this, so it's worth the trouble of putting on your cleaned armor for good food isn't' it?"
Torian smiled, swiping his hand across his forehead, a sheen of sweat there, "Sure, sure, food is always worth it."
He didn't actually mean it.
As it stood now, his heart was beating so wildly he was afraid it was just going to explode out of his chest, and he couldn't think of any good reason to not run out of there. Not one. The thought of food made his stomach turn. He realized he had made a huge mistake coming there…he couldn't shake the feeling that something big was coming, something that he wasn't prepared for, something that was going to cause him a lot of problems—and then he considered how right he was—he was almost always right about these feelings! He realized that it probably had everything to do with why Mand'alor had him there that day. Who knew what horrible thing the leader had planned for him.
"Torian!" Corriadan was looking at him sharply, his brow furrowed in question, "Vod, are you listening at all?
"Yes, of course," Torian lied smoothly, "why?"
"I asked you where your helmet was?"
Torian twisted around looking for it, trying to think of where he left it, his eyes scanning the room quickly for it, but not seeing it.
"They just called the five-minute mark," Corridan gestured around them at the other Mandalorians who were taking to their places in preparation for the presentation, "you need your helmet!"
Torian's eyes were wide, and Corridan grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly, "I have no idea what in the world is wrong with you, but you need to get a grip vod! It's fine, just for the love of all things Empire get your sheb over there on your mark and stand at attention! I hear the Huntmaster out in the hall!"
Torian did as Corridan ordered, stepping to his mark, placing his feet there and standing at rigid attention.
The others had also moved into their places, forming two lines with a center aisle between them. The Huntmaster, a gigantic beast of a Wookie came into the room, ducking as he entered, laughing and talking to someone else. He walked toward them, coming to the line of warriors, walking through and then stopping directly in front of Torian, turning slowly to face him.
"Forget something, Mando'ade?" his eyes stared straight ahead at Torian's blond hair.
"Yes, sir," Torian responded sharply, his eyes staring at the fur on the Wookie's chest, not daring to look up.
The Huntmaster made a noise that sounded like some kind of expression of amusement, turning to walk to the front of the room without another word. Torian could have sworn he heard him mutter something about it being "better this way", but he couldn't be sure and wasn't about to ask for clarification. His eyes cut across to Corridan who had what was bound to be a permanent smirk planted firmly across his face, glinting in his eyes through the cut in his helmet.
In the Hallway, Raeyn had been struggling with all of the people talking to her about all of the things she needed to do now, and all she wanted to do was walk in that room!
She needed to walk into that room.
Every person who stopped to advise her or talk to her or anything else was delaying her from being able to do that. She was positive that they all thought it was because she was so eager to be named "Grand Champion of the Hunt" or whatever other accolades would come with winning this, but that wasn't why, it was the furthest thing from her mind truthfully.
She rushed past the last person, glancing at Mako with a begging expression to get her to intercept the guy who was heading her direction with a packet of papers. Mako got the message and jumped between them, cutting the man off, while Raeyn rushed to the doorway, practically running to it, stopping herself just inside the door, taking a deep breath, before she ran through there like a crazy person.
That would be one heck of a first impression.
She looked straight down the aisle where the Huntmaster was standing, his hand gesturing her to enter the room. She started to take a step, holding her breath, when a burst of music began playing beside her and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked over to see a band playing some kind of music meant to make the whole affair feel very official and important, but it just managed to scare her half to death and cause her already accelerated heart rate to double up on itself.
She took a deep breath, opening her eyes, drawing them down to the thin line of light that hovered at her chest—the thin ribbon of light swaying gently as it reached across the room. Her eyes followed the stream as it moved away from her, it was brilliant and white and clear and brighter than she had ever seen it before. It was leading to someone in this room, she couldn't see who but it was someone on the right side of the line. She nearly jumped up and down in her excitement, wanting to rush to see who it was.
My Mandalorian.
She heard shuffling feet behind her, glancing back where Mako was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, "go, go, he'll be there after you finish this!" She laughed at Raeyn's expression, reaching forward and shoving her the first step.
Raeyn carefully pushed one foot in front of the other, her body practically vibrating with excitement, feeling a lot like her entire being was on some kind of auto-pilot as she made her way to the beginning of the line of Mandalorians. She wanted to look to see him, she wanted to reach out to him, to know his name.
She walked, forward, one step leading her closer.
Torian couldn't begin to explain the way the room felt like it was closing in on him as he heard the shuffle of people outside the doorway. He could feel sweat beading up all over his body, his hands were shaking violently, and he slapped them against his armor sharply trying to make them stop. Corridan hissed at him, causing him to be even more jittery.
Haar'chak! Ni Me'bana!?
He saw a blur of pink and white at the doorway and he thought he was going to pass out as the room began spinning. He closed his eyes tightly trying to stop the motion, his stomach lurching violently. He wondered for a second if he'd eaten something bad, then having gone quickly through his last few meals he realized all he had eaten was yai'yai bars. Not possible to get a bad one of them, the crazy food could last for centuries and never lose its freshness.
He heard the new Champion walking into the room, his hearing was honed and sensitive enough to hear someone saying "go, go", he wondered why the Champion was reluctant about accepting his reward, this was a great honor and something anyone would be thankful, honored to accept. He didn't have time to ponder it further as when he opened his eyes the Champion was standing at the start of the line, just a few feet from him. He felt like the air was closing in around him.
His eyes cut across to see him, eyes widening and his breath caught up in his throat when he saw that he was actually a she. Not just a she but 'the she'. The only woman he had ever seen. The only woman he would ever see again. The room was tilting violently, he wished someone would help him, unsure of how much longer he was going to be able to stand.
Raeyn had passed the woman on her right, her eyes cutting to the side to see the next person, to see him. The glow around him was bright, full, and she was having trouble making out any features—so much light, she could tell he was tall. Everything else was obscured by the light flaring around him.
I need more than this. Please, please, I've waited so long!
Her foot went forward again, mostly against her will, she was directly beside him, she had to use every ounce of self-control to not turn her head to try to see his face.
Her heart was being pulled like it was bound to him, like the strings were wrapped around him, and he was grabbing the lines with both fists, jerking her toward him. She felt the room blossoming with light everywhere, colors she had never seen and had no name for, and yet she pushed forward, moving ahead to the gigantic Wookie at the head of the room. Her heart stayed there in front of the man with the lights around him.
The Champion was in front of him now, and his eyes were fixated on her, it was like he had never really seen anything before this moment. Like all of the colors and hues he had ever noticed were dulled and filtered through gray and suddenly everything was clear and bright and he could hear her heart beating, or maybe that was his? He couldn't be sure, but she was there and it was like a force pulling him toward her, his body yearning to fall at her feet, to ask her to never leave, to bind himself to her forever.
His entire body was shaking, the armor on his chest rattling lightly, his hands clenched by his sides as he ordered them in no uncertain terms—they were NOT going to reach out and touch her, despite the way they ached to do so. She had moved past him, forward to the end of the line where the Huntmaster was waiting. He said some words that sounded like pure gibberish in his ears, the entire time, the world was swirling and spiraling, while he was having a very strongly worded talk with himself about self-control.
Raeyn heard but couldn't really comprehend the worlds the Wookie was saying, she wanted to understand but she couldn't….her mind wasn't clear—it was foggy and consumed with the glowing man. She wanted to see him, wanted to know him, wanted to hear her name on his lips. She thought she might hyperventilate when the Wookie gestured for her to turn around and he was going to say some kind of official words that recognized her as the Grand Champion.
Yes, yes, hurry, please, hurry.
Her eyes stayed forward as long as she could stand it, trying to be dignified and show respect for what was happening here, and then apart from her will they cut over to the glowing man. He was shaking, she could tell by the light around him bobbling and weaving as he moved, his head was facing forward and she could make out the faint outline of his hair, fair and bright, and as she stared the rattling became stronger.
I know. I feel you.
She jumped when everyone started clapping and shouting happy congratulatory words, her signal to walk back out of the room. She wanted to run to him, sooth him, her eyes following him as she walked. His eyes were on her, she could feel it, she could feel the warmth of them on her skin. She glanced up at him as she passed him, their eyes connecting for one moment, everything blurring and slowing, all of the world fell away.
The noise, and the lights, and the place, and every activity, and memory, and past faded away for a moment and all that was in all of existence was their souls. Rising up between them, slowly meeting one another, spinning in a stream of light, weaving and caressing one another, melting together, whispering their names, and then reluctantly letting go as her feet carried her further and further away from him.
Her soul cried out.
His answered the call.
Torian watched as she was pulled out of the room by a group of important looking people, his entire being nailed to the floor but wanting nothing more than to rush after her, to grab her and never let her go. His hand flew to his chest, where a deep pain was radiating outward as if there was a deep burning inside there.
The other Mandalorians were mulling around, talking and laughing, heading to the feast. Torian couldn't look away from the door. He felt a strong hand rest on his shoulder, turning to see the Huntmaster standing so close to him he blocked the rest of the room from his view. Torian looked up at him, blinking rapidly from not closing his eyes for so long, and while it was generally not an easy thing to tell what kind of emotion a Wookie might be feeling at any given time, he got the feeling that this one was sad.
"A piece of advice?" the Wookie spoke softly to him, Torian nodded.
"A thing of strength, of intelligence, of bravery, of beauty, one that our heart yearns to know forever, that is priceless, yes?" The Wookie leaned down a little to be closer to Torian's face.
Torian nodded, something he knew nothing about an hour ago, but felt raw with the reality, with the need of it now, "yes," he whispered.
"The mistake most make is to grab on too tightly, to use both fists to hold it captive to us because we would rather cage it than to risk losing it."
The Huntmaster sighed, and Torian felt like maybe this was something that he must have had some kind of personal experience with.
"True love, the kind that lasts forever—darasuum—it does not thrive in a cage, young friend, cannot, more importantly, should not be kept in a prison." He gestured around the room, sweeping, "these walls—they hold the people here, but they are free to leave, because a whole world, a galaxy, a universe is outside of these barriers."
Torian struggled to understand where this was going, his eyes studying the Wookie. The Wookie reached out to take both of Torian's hands which had been clenched tightly into fists since before the Champion had walked into the room, the Wookie's fingers digging in between his fingers until his hands were flat and laying in the palms of the Wookie's hands.
"You can do this," the Wookie closed his fists around Torian's hands, swallowing them whole, completely disappearing inside of his larger fists, "all of the beauty is hidden, it is stifled, it cannot grow, shine the way it was meant to—all of its potential lost—or, you can do this," and the Wookie opened his hands and Torian's hands lay flat against them again.
"Can't hold her too tight, you have time to understand—she isn't here now, she moved out of your reach, but the time will come, believe me young vod, when she will walk back into your orbit again. When she does, do not do this," his hands clenched Torian's again, then released them, "hold her softly, loosely, pel, and she will never—draar—leave you."
Hold her softly. Loosely. Pel.
"Be the ground beneath her feet, supporting her to walk boldly, confidently, and knowing that if she falls you will be there to catch her, you will absorb the fall," he lifted Torian's hand up with one of his, shaking it lightly, then quickly dropping it down onto his other hand, the two hands barely moving, "the ground takes the impact, hardly even shakes because it is so strong, capable, ready to do what it needs to do to protect where she walks. You be her ground. If you aren't, you're holding too tight, too firm, then you are this," the Wookie took his fist and dropped it down into Torian's open hand, a loud smack sounding through the room, and his palm stinging from the blow of it.
Softly. Loosely. Pel. Be the ground, not the prison.
The Wookie stared at Torian for a long moment, Torian wanting to say so many words, but only able to open and close his mouth, when the Wookie nodded firmly, slapped him on the back turned and walked toward the door, waving off someone who wanted to talk to him as he stopped at a bench by the door.
Torian looked down into his hand where there was a now a necklace, he picked it up to examine it. It was on a long leather cord, wound with another piece of leather was a bundle of what looked like pale blonde fur, two long strips with pearl beads tapering down the sides of it. Torian looked up to find the Huntmaster, to give it back to him, his eyes landing on him standing by the bench.
He held up something in his hands, gesturing to Torian, who started to walk toward him. Torian couldn't make out what it was, but he nodded at the Huntmaster who turned to walk out of the room. He stopped at the bench where his helmet was sitting.
What kind of game is the Huntmaster playing anyway? Need to return this to him.
He heard the Wookie call from the other room, "keep it, Cadera, you need the reminder more than I do."
He couldn't help laughing then, confused but sure that something extraordinary had happened here, he was mulling over the Wookie's words, holding the necklace in his hand, reaching up to tuck it in the top of his armor, gathering up his helmet.
"Ow..." he murmured as his hand landed on his chest again. The pain consistent, radiating through his body, still, he'd known pain, as far back as he could remember. Pain in his head, his heart, his soul. Heartache of every kind, every measure. This, while certainly painful, felt more like pain with purpose, like the laboring contractions of a woman giving birth-who knew she could endure the pain for the result of the babe in her arms after the pains were finished. He would endure this pain, because he know, despite not really know how he knew-this is pain with purpose
He slapped his hand on his chest once, a small battle cry issuing from him as he began to master his body again. He looked across the room where Corridan was, walking to him on shaky legs, clapping him on the back and saying something perfectly normal about heading to the feast, despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to think about anything other than the Champion, and a Wookie's advice.
Wookie advice. Who would have ever thought it?
Raeyn had nearly fallen to pieces as she was pulled out of the room, a handful of people ushering her out of the building into a waiting shuttle. Crysta talking loudly in her ear, "you done real good out there, honey!" She felt her hand pat her back softly before her voice started to fade.
"Crysta!" she called her name as loudly as she could, twisting to try and see her, panic in her voice, "the feast! We're supposed to go! I need to go!"
"Naw, honey!" Crysta yelled back, as the group swept Raeyn away from her, "that is for all those Mandalorians-you've got bigger company to keep, darlin! You're the big shot now! Go show them what you got!"
Raeyn turned to try to find Mako-there were so many people, all of them so consumed with what they wanted, caught up in their own excitement, none of them were moving slowly enough to see that she was dying inside. She tried to stop, grabbing onto Mako, who was being drug along with her.
"Mako, I can't go, I need to go back!" she tried to explain, her other hand shooting up to clench her chest, a pain bursting outward like a vice grip was squeezing it while trying to rip it through her chest wall at the same time. Mako was trying to talk over the people, trying to get them to listen but no one could hear her over their own blustering voices, pushing them, handing them folders and datapads, stacking things up-trying to give them to Mako who refused to let go of Raeyn's hand. They were telling the driver instructions about being transported to the spaceport for departure. Everyone smiling and happy and excited, and Raeyn was screaming inside, wanting to break through all of them to get back to that room.
To him. Please.
Instead, she allowed herself to be pushed onto the shuttle, slamming down into the seat and her body swaying violently when the vessel broke loose and started moving. Mako rushed to her side, steadying her as she swayed, nearly falling out of the seat. She felt a tear slide down her cheek and Mako reached over to take her hand. With her other hand she pulled up her holocom, pushing the button and holding it out in front of Raeyn.
Raeyn stared straight ahead as an image appeared, the man's voice excited, "How'd it go? Was it amazing? What's his name? Tell me everythi…"
He stopped short when he realized that Raeyn was leaning forward, soft sobs shaking her body.
"Raeyn?" the man focused, his eyes moving to Mako.
"I don't think this was supposed to happen this way? Was it?" Mako whispered, shaking her head.
"Where is he?"
"Back at Mandalorian Heaquarters, we're being transferred to the spaceport to be sent somewhere to talk to someone, I have no idea," she gestured to the stack of papers in the seat next to her, "I'm sure once I sort through that I'll have a better idea of what's going on with her moving forward."
"Damn," he shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, speaking softly, "Name?"
"Torian Cadera. Mandalorian, just as you'd said, there's some kind of issue with his standing with the clans—I'm not clear on it, but I'll do some digging when I get back to the ship."
"I'll see what I can find on my end and let you know."
Mako nodded, "I'm sure you can get more info than I could. Is this normal?"
He had been staring at Raeyn, but his eyes shifted to look at Mako, "nothing about anything is normal when it comes to us, you know that."
"Don't patronize me, you know what I mean!" she used a louder voice than she had intended, lowering her volume, "I don't know what to do here, Niko."
"This is normal, fine, not normal to have to be separated after what? Thirty minutes after the soulbond?"
"Try...seven minutes...tops."
"What!?" he leaned forward then, his face furious, "what the hell did they do Mako? Make her run through the damn ceremony?"
Mako's voice was trembling, "I don't know Nikolaes! I don't know okay? I'm not the one in charge-usually-she is, and obviously," she gestured to Raeyn who appeared to be comatose, "she is not taking charge here. There were so many people and she was just...not herself, she was just not...her."
He took a deep breath, "I understand, it's okay Mako, you did the best you could, I didn't mean to imply otherwise, you know that. I just...it's not like I can go kidnap this kid and deliver him to her with a bow on his head. There are lines that can't be crossed."
Mako laughed lightly, "now you have boundaries?"
"I've always had boundaries when it comes to these issues. You can't force anything. That is not how this works. It's what it is, the pain is real no matter how long you've been bonded, you just adjust to it-separation will always hurt like hell. It's worse for her because it was such a short time together, it will fade, a little at a time until it's just a dull ache."
"It will never go away as long as they are apart," he leaned his head down into his hands for a moment, sighing heavily, his head lifting, he spoke softly, as if to a small child, his attention turned to Raeyn, "is the tether gone, Raeyn?"
She nodded her head once, letting her head drop back down. He released a whooshing breath, "then it's done, at least there's that. Whatever happens now, we'll just have to wait and see. I don't have any access to find out more right now." He growled then, slamming his fist on something making a loud crash, "I'm sorry."
"I understand," Mako whispered.
He made a soft, cooing noise, drawn out for several seconds, something that might sound like a word, but wasn't quite, his eyes fixated on Raeyn.
Raeyn looked up at him, as if she had understood the noise he had made, his voice soft and loving, "It won't always feel like this, nu'tem'saer, the first time is the hardest, even if you can spend days with the person-it feels like your heart has been ripped out when you leave them. It will get better, I promise. Lo'Eldae'na sends her love, she said to make sure you contact her after you go to your meeting. She said to tell you Artus is very 'nice'. I told her that upholstery is nice, carpets are nice, the man is the kriffing head of the entire Mandalorian population, the man has to be completely ehu'no'te. She told me to watch my mouth, naturally."
He shrugged, smiling at Raeyn, who didn't acknowledge anything he said, her expression blank, leaning over to Mako who pulled her into her arms and let her lay there.
"Mako?" the man asked, Mako looked away from Raeyn to the man.
She nodded, "I'll make sure she sees this, I've recorded it."
The man nodded then, his face serious, "One of us should have been there…it's just…never mind…everyone was where they had to be, and the SIS is falling apart at the seams…it couldn't have been any different I suppose, Mako, seriously, thank you."
Mako smiled at the man, "I'm here, she's my friend, I'll help take care of her as long as I can."
The man returned her smile then, "We all are thankful for you. Some of us more than others," he smiled winking at her, "So when are you going to let me take you out, Mako?"
"Seems I heard you were in a relationship?"
His voice raised an octave, "What? Who told you that?"
"Raeyn."
"She lied."
"She did not lie, she told me you've been knocking boots with your boss—I thought the SIS ran a professionally adept machine but now I think it's just a free for all—you sweet talking your Keeper."
"I…just…really? Damn it. Raeyn never has been able to keep secrets. The Keeper and I…it's not a relationship is it? I mean…I just….she is…seriously, it's not a relationship if you have only seen each other socially three times?"
Mako laughed, not missing the fact that the man appeared rather wistful over the thought of the Keeper, "is that what you are calling it now, 'socializing'," she wagged her eyebrows as she said it, "I thought you had something going with that crazy Rattataki? And then Raeyn said something about some other new girl on your ship training under you—her words not mine—"I bet training isn't the only thing she's doing under him"—so what kind of ship you running over there, Agent?"
"Holy Hutt balls. Kriffing stupid as…seriously? First of all, the Rattataki would cut me, in my sleep…and probably shoot the pieces out of the airlock, over the course of days—the most important piece first….so I would know what I'd lost before I died a slow and painful death at her hands."
"So you didn't 'socialize' the Rattataki?"
He hesitated, "I didn't say that exactly."
Mako reached to turn the com off.
"Wait, wait! Mako, seriously, it was just for fun, she's already brought three guys onboard, flaunting them in my face, it was just a momentary weakness. I am truthfully terrified of her. I've put three extra passcodes on my bedroom door! I am more terrified of her than the crazy maniacal metal woman in my engine room, so that's really telling you something."
"And before you ask, no, never. She's a metal woman for the love of Corellian Whiskey."
"You flirted, huh?"
"Sure, she's metal, I'm not dead, she's pretty….well built?"
Mako snorted loudly, glancing to make sure she hadn't disturbed Raeyn who had her head still leaned down hidden under her arms.
"I'd give them all up for you, Mako, just give me one chance…"
She laughed, shaking her head, "Never, you're too old for me Ni—"
"What!? I am not! I am younger than her!" he pointed to Raeyn next to her.
"Yes, yes, I know how biology works, you are still too old for me, too much experience…"
"Well, I don't see how any lady could ever say that is a bad thing…you know what they say about…"
"I'm hanging up now."
"Okay, okay, fine—I'll see you soon and we can discuss this then."
Mako rolled her eyes, "sure, sure, looking forward to it."
The man held his chest as if he had been wounded, then laughed softly, "seriously though, Mako, take care of you, too."
The image crackled for a moment and then disappeared.
The Sith couldn't help but sigh wistfully as she realized how deeply Torian had been impacted by his first moments with Raeyn, same as she had been with him.
A soulbonding was a beautiful thing, but some people rebelled against it, either afraid, or so unsettled by it that they tainted the experience with a layer of fear that could reveal itself in unpredictable ways. It was always good when two souls responded with the same pitch and tone—a kind of harmony that was a pretty clear picture of their future together. It wasn't that a less tranquil soulbond wouldn't result in a beautiful relationship, but rather that the couple would be far more volatile—not always a bad thing, depending on the personalities involved.
She tested herself to see if she was too weary to continue, finding that she was still quite energized and could go on a bit further this day, so she focused again, sending her power and the healing force through Torian once more.
Hour 1
She couldn't remember much. She recalled a moment of blinding light, the sensation of being ripped apart, and then falling into black when Valkorian fell to the floor, her entire body frozen from the essence of him flowing through her body and soul. Then she woke...unable to move, unable to open her eyes. looking to all the world like she was frozen in time, but her mind, oh her mind, it was alert and active.
She had to count her breaths then to keep from hyperventilating. It didn't work until she'd made herself pass out five times from lack of oxygen. A faint buzzing or ringing-she couldn't be sure which as it sounded like it was coming from inside herself-and then some kind of gears turning, rolling and twisting as the fading happened, ushering her into darkness, a momentary reprieve. Then a rush of cold air, strange prickling sensation on every inch of her skin and then she was again conscious—of what was around her.
Especially, what wasn't around her. There was no air...not that she could feel. It was just cold on her skin, but not the kind that would be soothing after a hard day working in the sun. Rather this very impersonal kind of feeling cold. Just there but not like a second skin, close as it was to her body. More like a glove that fit just a little too tight. Not allowing her to move, not to even move her mouth to make a sound or wiggle her fingers.
She started counting then, able to perform multiple thought processes at once, she kept time in her mind, a rough estimate of how long she had been there, in this state of being but not quite being alive.
At least Torian is safe. At least my crew made it out alive. That makes everything worth it.
He has to live.
Hour 12
There was a lot to be said about sleep. Something pretty much every sentient being in the universe took for granted, easy, simple, as necessary as breathing. Something done without even considering how important it is to your mental wellbeing. Until you couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't really remember what sleep felt like, she knew she had done it recently, but that was an induced sleep—something created by necessity or perhaps chemicals—she couldn't remember which. She yearned to remember what that felt like, natural sleep, the drifting moment was when you were slowly moving from a state of consciousness into a place of quiet peacefulness.
There was no peace here. Only her own thoughts, running in endless circles. She felt around her—searching for anything that might give her some anchor. She imagined that sleep would be something that would quiet her mind, if only for a moment.
She missed it desperately.
She focused on Torian's face, clear in mind, drifting in the comfort of his love for her. A moment of calmness in this storm. Content to know he was alive somewhere out there—and would be waiting for her when she was free.
Not if.
When.
Hour 19
His voice came, slithering, hissing in her ear and she flinched, at least her soul did, as far as she could tell her body remained rigid and still—stone. She found herself somehow backing away from him after a few minutes, trying to find an escape and then she was there, standing, a form like her, it was her, she at least thought, and then she tested it and yes, it did feel like her. It felt real, and yet she was aware that it wasn't, somehow it was a mind trick, and her body was still locked inside carbonite.
She turned and told him to leave her alone, confused about what was happening, where she was and why Valkorian was there with her. He talked to her, soothed her somehow making his words make sense in her muddled mind.
"I've long sensed in you something that I have been waiting for, you garnered my attention an entire universe away," he had sat down on a rock near where she was standing looking out across the vast expanse of the desolate planet, "I have longed for you."
"I would rather die than help you," she spit at him, glaring over her shoulder.
"Death may yet stay your hand, my dear," he smiled, a sad, yet still twisted smile, "but let us not focus on that now—I need you to understand."
"There is no understanding to be had from you," she muttered, jerking her body back to face away from him, "you are nothing but pure evil, and I won't entertain your words, not one moment of them."
"You will," he whispered, not triumphantly, but forlornly, "I'm afraid you will."
She lost herself in the odd sensation of the warm, stifling air blowing across her skin, closing her eyes, trying to calm down. She felt around her but all she felt was blankness, emptiness, a barren wasteland. No life, no force, nothing but death and destruction.
She walked and sat down on the ground a bit away from where Valkorian was sitting on the rock he'd claimed as his own, looking to all the world perfectly comfortable right where he was.
She grimaced as a wave of pain shot through her, hands flying up to her neck as she gasped for air, trying to take a deep breath but failing. Valkorian didn't move, didn't even respond at all.
The wave of discomfort passed and she struggled to calm her heart, to breath normally.
"You're dying," he said, toeing the loose ground with his foot, "at least, that's what I am sensing. Something is killing you, and if you die, they will believe it is from a broken mechanism in the freezing container—poisoned is what they would say…but we…oh, we know better, don't we?"
Her head jerked up, eyes boring into him at, "what do you think you know?"
"Everything."
She wanted to climb away from him, away from his eyes that looked through her—she reaching inside herself and relaxed when she discovered the hidden parts of her mind were untouched, unspoiled by him. The measures set to protect her from situations like this were holding fast. She shuddered, knowing that though he may not have made it past the secret parts of who she was, the ones held under lock and key—he had no doubt seen enough, knew enough, more than she would have ever volunteered.
It felt like she had been violated, like her own person had been laid out bare to him. Embarrassed, her cheeks flaming, realizing at once that he was in her mind, that he was privy to everything except the parts held by the lock, she curled her legs up, folding her arms around them, laying her head on them, a single tear dripping down from her eyes.
He talked then, talked about things she wasn't paying attention to, talked as if to hear his own voice.
"You are a fascinating young woman, so much mystery, so many things I desire to understand. We'll get there together, won't we? You and I—we are going to be working together for such a time that is yet to come—and you will find a way to understand. To know what I truly want, and how it is not so very different than what you want."
She really wasn't paying much attention to his words, they all sounded so self-serving and ugly. She nodded or interjected when she thought she was supposed to but for the most part she was reaching out around her trying to find some idea of what was here and where here was.
"…you have been severed from it, everything is lost to you now, that's the pull you feel, the longing. It will kill you eventually. You were never meant to be taken and sealed away like this. My daughter knew—she saw what you were, she meant to give you a slow and painful death, she recognized what the chamber would do to you, to your soul. I couldn't have stopped her even if you hadn't killed me."
She wanted to tell him to shut up, to just be quiet, but the droning of his voice was somehow soothing, better than the utterly empty sound of silence when he wasn't talking, and she certainly did not like the idea of trying to fill the void.
"…we can change the world. I want to help you, and show you how. Once you stop my children, once I understand you, we could work together to bring a harmony to the galaxy. You could rule with me, as an equal…"
The most nagging thing, the thing that just wouldn't let her loose, was how she was doing what she was doing—there were no powers here to be had, there was no force, no light or dark, nothing to draw from, but she stood here, seemingly alive. She was still frozen somewhere else, but she felt real and solid, and her body could feel the temperature and process the feelings of the wind on her face. It was very surreal and somewhere back inside her stone cage she was still counting time.
"I realized then that you were someone I needed, and we are bound now, I know you…"
She jumped up to her feet then, her stance to attack, her finger pointed at his face, "you don't know me. You may have been in my head, and you may think that you know who I am, but you don't—you know all of the tiny pieces but you do not know the whole. You know more than I would have ever wanted you to know—deep, holy, sacred things that your tainted mind should never have had the blessing of being shown from my soul. You may have seen the pictures, the images—but you don't have a heart to be able to put them together into a full picture! You know NOTHING!"
He nodded, not arguing the point, "of course, I didn't access everything, and I haven't, and I won't…in fact, as you well know I can't. I am not here to usurp your authority over yourself. I would want you to reveal what is left willingly. I'm not here as your enemy."
She studied his face, her hand dropping, leaning back up to stand upright, "that remains to be seen."
He huffed out a breath standing up, brushing off his robes, "it would be much easier if you would just trust me."
She laughed then, a dry, mirthful laugh, "you are the destroyer. I will never trust you."
"Pity," he said, turning to look across the landscape, "this could have been so simple."
She glared at his back, wanting to shove him off the cliff's edge. Unsure of what being bound with him would entail, and not willing to risk anything at this point knowing that there was some truth to it in the very heart of her.
Simple isn't my way. Never was. Never will be. I take the long way around.
"Very well," he muttered, "have it your way. At least tell me what you are? Give me at least that, just to quell my curiosity."
She shrugged at his back, flustered, "haven't you already figured it out?"
He turned then, his face not giving away anything, "I might understand, but I would rather not guess, and that gate around the hidden secrets of your mind, you did not put that there. It has a different signature. It's something I haven't felt in a very, very long time."
She shrugged, "you're not going to get me to explain a single thing about me, or my life, ever."
She emphasized the point by tapping her forehead twice. He laughed lightly his hands resting on his knees.
"You are quite a clever girl," he murmured, "I'd have you as one of my own if I could."
She laughed then, shaking her head, "I would sooner die."
"Yes," he agreed gently, "I know you would. I would rather we both stay alive. If you don't mind. Given that my fate is hinged to yours now, I hope you will at least try."
"Not for you," she hissed, turning away from him to start down the hill leading to the valley below, "not for one single second for you."
"Of course not," he shouted to her retreating back, "I would expect nothing less from you!"
Notes:
Listen, I wish I could give major KUDOS to all of you! I tagged this story with the tag "timeline shenanigans" because from the minute I had opened a word document several months ago I *knew* that this would not read like a "traditional" story with a clear beginning, middle, and end. I know that this style might not be something every reader will appreciate-but I absolutely ADORE each of you who are sticking with it! I have the next seven chapters written and am just editing in between newer writing. I can't wait to get this up here for you! THANK YOU for your comments, kudos and every single one of the +1's to my read list! I couldn't appreciate you more! 3 3 3
Translations:
Imh'ite : a term that changes depending on the tone it is voiced in-literally-peace, please-however, in this context it is the basic equivalent to *can you please shut up*
Haar'chak! Me'bana? [HAR-chak! may-BAHN-ah!] Damn it! What's happening?
yai'yai [YAY-aye] *richly nourishing* - peculiarly Mandalorian description of dense, high-calorie food, of great importance to people dependent on highly portable field rations
darasuum [dah-RAH-soom] forever
pel [pail] soft, yielding
draar [drahr] never
nu'tem'saer : tiny innersoul, a term of endearment
Lo'eldae'na : our mother
ehu'no'te : a slang word that basically means *bad ass*
