Tony returns to report, "They're gone. I just saw them off," as he yanks up his mask.

Yes, she knows. Meetra watched Darth Lacerate's shuttle lift off from the balcony. The General achieved what he sought, and dinner ended shortly thereafter. No doubt he's heading to shakedown the next Sith Lord on his list. "Good riddance," she mutters.

"The big ship is pulling away too."

"Good . . . I guess," she grumbles, turning away to march off herself.

"Hey, don't be like that . . . Tonight went fine." Obviously relieved, Tony seems irked that she doesn't feel the same way. It's yet another disconnect between them. For despite the bond making it easy for Tony to know what she's thinking, that unconscious exchange of information doesn't seem to yield automatic understanding between them. The dyad, Meetra has learned, is no shortcut to unity.

"What just happened?" she complains. She's not entirely sure. Planting hands on hips, she looks to Tony for an explanation. "What exactly did you just do?"

"I didn't want to make an enemy of Lacerate."

Oh, come on! "He is absolutely your enemy!"

"Yes, but so long as he thinks I might be useful—even if I'm still suspicious—that benefits me. And if I'm sufficiently trusted, then maybe I will learn details of the plot that will be useful to us or to Cornelius."

Yes, she understands that strategy. It's probably the right strategy. But tonight just smacks of appeasement and deceit, and that rubs her the wrong way. Tony got bullied and he gave in, and she doesn't like it. And now, he's ostensibly signed up with the plot his brother-in-law just warned the Emperor about. That endangers Tony, which endangers her. So yeah, she's upset about it. Way more than chill Tony, apparently.

"Darth Lacerate will make a terrible Emperor! He might be even worse than Vitiate! You should have killed him when you had the chance. If you killed him, you'd be hailed a hero in some parts . . ."

"And a villain in others. Inviting someone to dinner in order to murder them is pretty egregious, don't you think?" Tony slants her some serious side eye. "I never thought I'd have tell a Jedi this, but killing is usually the least preferred solution in almost every circumstance."

Did she just get shamed by the Lord of Pain who brags about his unknowable body count? "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Meetra huffs. "Because if you're talking about Malachor—"

"I'm not," Tony is quick to back away from that touchy topic. But he doesn't retract the comment. "I'm talking about tonight. You really are becoming one of us." Tony looks at her like he's not sure he likes it.

Meetra is feeling called out, and that makes her aggressively defensive. Since when is she the bad guy between the two of them? She pops out a hip, raises her eyebrows, and grabs the moral high ground. "Oh, so you have scruples now?"

"I have always had scruples. They just didn't fit your initial narrative for me, and so you refused to see them," Tony informs her. But his face and tone soften now as he cajoles, "I know you see them now."

It's true. But that's not her point. The issue isn't them. It's how to handle the murderous tyrant-in-the-making Darth Lacerate who just left thinking Tony is his new system warlord.

"Killing Lacerate would have saved the Army from a purge, like Azamin wants." Sure, it's the ends justifying the means, but this was a Sith-on-Sith situation so is it really that wrong? In a bad guy versus bad guy scenario, a Dark deed seems appropriate if it achieves a laudable goal.

Tony sticks by his strategy. "I'll let Vitiate deal with Lacerate. I don't have a ripe conflict with the General unless he wins, and I judge that a low risk. If that choking exercise was a true measure of his power, Vitiate is going to wipe the floor with him."

"And in the meantime—"

"I am picking my battles and keeping my head down, like I always do."

"But you're giving him what he wants!" she wails, frustrated with the unspoken ultimatum Tony just surrendered to.

"He had a cruiser parked over our heads, remember?" Tony shoots her an exasperated look. The bond tells her that he doesn't know whether she's being overly idealistic or far too ruthless with her proposed solution. But either way, he's surprised she doesn't see matters the way he does. And here again, they both feel frustrated with the bond. How can two people who practically share one brain see life so differently?

"Lacerate held all the leverage. So, I used the same strategy I use with you, my dear. I get what I want by giving you what you want."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she stiffens.

"He wants allies, so I'll be his ally if it makes him retract his threat. Tonight was a win," Tony declares victory.

"You really think he would open fire on his own people he purports to want to lead?"

"I do. He doesn't care about the people. He only cares about power."

"Yes, that is clear," Meetra concedes.

"He'd obliterate us and tell a story about this being a personal dispute. But everyone would know it was Lacerate flexing his muscle and making an example out of me. And that might actually help him gain support . . . Sadly, my people look with approval on strongman tactics. Political violence is deeply woven into our culture," Tony sighs.

Sounding at once thoughtful and cynical, he laments, "Lies, disinformation, paranoia, the cult of personality, historical revisionism, the ready use of violence on friends and foes . . . Meetra, those are the ugly tools of autocracy. Lacerate would be showing his bona fides for being Dark Lord by using them."

"Oh." Meetra considers a moment. Maybe she is too stuck in her Republic Jedi mindset. Perhaps she's making all the wrong assumptions. Tony clearly has plenty of experience with treacherous Sith politics.

"One thing I admire about the Republic is its capacity for a peaceful handover of power. You regularly change Chancellors without bloodshed. We Sith are incapable of that sort of transition."

"Wouldn't Vitiate punish Lacerate for striking at you?" Meetra presses.

"Maybe. But he's not afraid of Vitiate, so there is no deterrent value to his threat of reprisal. Lacerate might even welcome the confrontation, if he's ready to make his move. Meanwhile, we'd be dead."

Right. There is that. "So . . . you're actually going to pretend to be his ally?"

"Yes, I'm joining his rogue's gallery . . . for now. I did the same for Revan. This is how our politics works, Meetra. We lie to one another even as we circle and threaten. It's a toxic stew of bluffs and feints." Tony shrugs. "That's the Empire for you."

Meetra nods as she realizes aloud, "So . . . you're pretending to support a usurper you disdain even as you plot your own treason to put your brother-in-law, the usurper's enemy, on the throne . . . And meanwhile, the sitting Emperor knows a coup attempt is coming. What fun," she deadpans.

"Today was a win," Tony maintains.

"If you say so. But what happens when Lacerate makes his move and loses, and you're on the list of his conspirators? Do you get executed?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Maybe Vitiate will view this like the Revan situation and recognize that many of us are only titular supporters, not true conspirators."

"And if not?"

"Then I die with the rest of them," Tony answers matter-of-fact.

Shit. "But—"

"Meetra, this is how the Empire works! It's not fair, but this is how it is! Sure, I'd like some truth, justice, and transparency like what you're used to, but this isn't the Republic. There are no jury trials for treason. Besides, I have a longstanding reputation for encouraging dissent. It won't be hard for Vitiate to believe I have turned against him."

Meetra gulps and nods to acknowledge the point. Tony isn't mansplaining the Sith Empire so much as he is educating her. While the other Lords she has met condescend or ignore her, Tony always engages with her as an equal. He wants to hear her opinion and he expects her to push back and ask questions.

Rattled at the bleak endgame he has described, Meetra now foolishly speaks before she thinks. "It's a good thing we have the bond, because if you were playing me like you're playing Lacerate—"

"You know I'm not." Tony shoots her an indignant glare.

"Yes, I know," she hastily agrees, instantly sorry for verbalizing that thought. She knows Tony wants her to trust him, and she does. But knowing Tony's penchant for deceit can give rise to the occasional doubt.

Frustrated with his predicament, worried Meetra starts babbling now. "I guess if tonight blows up in your face, I could always hide you in the Republic . . ." Kind of like the reverse of what he's doing for her now. "You could be the Exile then . . . " She manages a sheepish smile as she quakes at the thought of poor Tony having to flee the system he loves. He's been devoted to his people for several lifetimes now, and with his family gone, it's all he has left. "We'd both be fugitives," she jokes lamely.

The offhand offer touches him. Tony pauses and his face brightens. It's been a long, tense day, but this is the first glimpse of happiness from him.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Sure. I'd repay the favor for a friend."

"A friend . . ." He repeats her word choice. Friend, not husband or pretend husband. Not boyfriend or lover. Not partner or ally. But 'friend.'

Meetra holds her breath a moment, but Tony likes that description apparently. "I'm your friend . . . like Revan is your friend?"

"Yeah, okay." She's cool with that label. She's loyal to Revan, she admires Revan, she wants to help Revan, she cares for Revan . . . but she's not attached to Revan. So yes, she can definitely be friends with Tony like she's friends with Revan. It's the acceptable kind of arm's length 'love' that is permissible, at least in the more lax Crusader mindset. So yeah, 'friend' is good. She likes 'friend.' She can live with 'friend.' It puts her and Tony in firm situationship territory.

Suddenly, Meetra is incredibly relieved to have established the proper boundaries between them. For Tony too often seems to be fishing around for something uncomfortably close to romantic love. There are times in bed when she has worried he's on the verge of an awkward declaration that she cannot reciprocate. So, clarifying things feels good. Meetra smiles. "Friends?"

Tony beams back at her. "Friends."

The bond tells her how happy this moment of understanding has made him. And that makes her happy too. Maybe over time the bond really can help them communicate better. For look how easily they just clarified things.

It never ceases to amaze her how she and Tony can bicker about everything from proper lightsaber maintenance to high treason, and yet there are important topics—like their personal relationship and their individual futures—that neither of them feels comfortable broaching. But this conversation feels like a breakthrough. Meetra feels proud of herself right now, too—here she is a Jedi, and she's talking about her feelings. She even verbalizes them now. "I'm w-worried for you," she confesses, a little surprised by how emotional that statement is for her to speak aloud. But she's upset, and she owns it. "I'm worried for you . . ." He's already taking an awful risk hiding her. Signing up for Lacerate's coup feels like next-level danger.

To his credit, Tony doesn't try to downplay the seriousness of the situation. He doesn't tell her not to worry her pretty little head about it. Instead, he resolves, "We must trust in ourselves to make good decisions and trust in the Force to protect us. The future will sort itself out."

It's Tony being Tony. He's a pragmatic man with a deeply held faith, a longtime student of politics who's navigated more than his share of conflicts, and also something of a romantic dreamer for the future. Looking at him now, all Meetra can think is that he's so Revan.

She blinks away that thought and moves on. "What do we do now?"

"We stoke the dyad and ready our skills. Cornelius is right that Lacerate will be making his move soon and we must preempt him. Now, it's not so much to avoid Vitiate purging the Army as it is—"

"Making sure you don't get purged too," Meetra finishes the thought for him.

"Precisely." Looking and sounding determined, Tony vows, "We must not miss our chance to make a difference. Whether we can convince Cornelius to be Dark Lord or not, we must get ready to take on Vitiate."

She nods. "Okay." She's in. If she can accomplish just one more meaningful thing in life, she will finish what Revan started and kill the Sith Emperor.

She must look scared or upset or something unlike herself, because Tony now pulls her into an embrace. "Come here. You look like you need a hug," he mutters.

"Never tell a Jedi that," she retorts. But she doesn't pull back. Instead, she snuggles into his armored chest and exhales deeply. She's not used to Tony's spontaneous affection, but she likes it.

"It's been a crazy day. I might need a hug, too," he chuckles ruefully into her ear.

"Do Sith Lords need hugs?" she wonders aloud.

"Absolutely. But don't tell anyone."

The next morning, the hard work begins. Tony revamps their sparring session workouts to focus on fighting together, rather than fighting one another. That sounds like a simple change, but it is a complete shift in mindset. Before now, Meetra has never spent time fighting with a Force-strong partner in combat. She's dueled opponents solo, she's led troops into battle, and she's commanded from the bridge of a flagship. Each time, she was in charge, making decisions unilaterally. But that's nothing like fighting side by side with Tony using a Force bond. Collaborative combat improvisation is dismayingly difficult. But it will be necessary to take on Vitiate and to rescue Revan, so Meetra takes it ultra seriously.

Tony brings in remotes and droids to assist. They practice fighting back-to-back at first, learning to stay out of each other's way and to sense one another's movements. Once they reach a basic proficiency, they attempt to coordinate their assault. This involves learned attack and defense patterns done in synchronization. It also requires using the Force to assist each other. Sometimes, Tony will Force-push her across the room so she can swing her sword at a droid. Other times, she's the one pulling a mechanical opponent toward him to strike down.

They work in earnest training early each morning and after dinner most nights. But the progress isn't as fast as they hope. That's mostly her fault. "Stop fighting against the bond," Tony complains when they bungle a simple maneuver. "You're overcomplicating this. Act on instinct. Stop thinking and feel."

Feel. That's easier said than done for Meetra. Surrendering to the bond is hard. Part of her—the Jedi part of her—desperately wants to compartmentalize the bond. To turn it on and off by choosing when to ignore it. It's just too uncomfortable to feel that intimate with someone all the time. It's awkward as well. No one other than you needs to know when you have to scratch your nose or burp.

But Tony has fully embraced the bond after his initial trepidation. He's totally fine with her living as constant background static in his mind. When Meetra confronts him about it, he sheepishly reveals that he welcomes their connection. I was alone for so long that I missed having someone to live with, Tony admits. I like knowing you like you know yourself. It's so honestly said that Meetra can't be angry about his invasion of privacy.

But she gets angry often in training. Meetra is easily frustrated and quick to self-criticism. Luckily, Tony takes it in stride. "I'm fine with anger. I welcome your anger," he shrugs one morning when she apologizes for a snappish remark. "When I first found you, you weren't even capable of anger. You were so sullen and apathetic. Anger is progress."

Meetra makes a face at that unflattering description. "Was I that bad?"

"Yes," he tells her plainly. But his next words are full of understanding. "Depression is like that. Often, you can't see how bad it is until you're out of it."

"This is very hard for me," she reminds him. Meetra has lived her whole life staying separate from others, keeping the requisite physical, mental, and emotional distance with only minor lapses during the war. Attachments are natural, she was taught, and so you must zealously guard against them. She, in particular, was prone to reprimand on the topic. That Jedi teaching made her default to distant, and maybe a bit cold at times. To unlearn those habits at this point is uncomfortably hard. Scary too. It's humiliating for Meetra to admit, but it's easier for her to kill than it is for her to get close to another person.

What does that say about the Jedi Order? She's not sure.

Patient Tony merely nods through her frequent profane outbursts. "Let's try it again," he urges with an encouraging smile and an unfailingly optimistic attitude.

But day after day, Meetra struggles with dropping her personal barriers. She thinks of the dyad as a strategic advantage, something akin to the Jedi battle meditation skill. Tony, by contrast, views the dyad as a way of life. They are two-made-into-one, according to him. It's a fundamental disconnect that underlies all aspects of their relationship. She wants boundaries and he wants togetherness. Like she tolerates their pretend marriage and friends-with-Force-and-other-benefits arrangement, while he surreptitiously angles for a genuine attachment. In fact, the more intertwined and intense their daily lives become, the more Meetra feels the reflexive urge to pull back. At times, she can get aggressive about establishing her space. It helps that she has a lot of alone time during her sparsely scheduled day.

It's a lot of push and pull, but she and Tony gamely muddle through. Still, the issue keeps arising. "Stop fighting the bond," he complains again one morning when their timing is off. It causes him to miss an easy kill they have practiced many times.

"I'm trying! This is so—so—hard." Today, she feels like giving up.

Tony starts to complain some more, but stops. Does he sense how discouraged and floundering she is? Of course, he does. And that is the one saving grace of the bond: while the dyad might not promote unity, it certainly fosters empathy. It's hard to get too angry at someone when you know exactly what their feelings are and what motivates their decisions. The dyad takes the heat out of their frustration with one another.

Physical closeness turns out to be much easier for Meetra than emotional closeness. For her and Tony, that translates to epic amounts of sex. She's not complaining and neither is he. But it's clear that he views sex as having a lot more meaning than she does. All along, he's been making love while she's been having a good time. He knows it, she knows it, but they never discuss it. They have agreed to be friends, and they never revisit the subject.

Explaining their relationship turns out to be one of a list of topics she and Tony don't discuss. From what happens after they kill Vitiate, to what she will do after they free Revan, there are a lot of issues she and Tony do not clarify. She's fine with that, honestly. They are facing long odds for success and there are any number of contingent scenarios that could play out. Rather than bicker over them, she and Tony silently agree to take things one day at a time. Is that reckless? Perhaps. But once her life veered so completely out of control after Malachor V, Meetra pretty much gave up planning for the future. She has surrendered to the present.

Tony, being the type to read meaning into everything, finds their dyad pairing to be endlessly fascinating. He's always talking about it, seeking to explain and to understand it. One day as they train, he ponders, "Do you think this is how you balance the Force? That it happens when Light and Dark stop positioning themselves in opposition and work together? Maybe that's why this is so hard . . . maybe it has less to do with us than with our intrinsic differences."

He's being abstract again and she calls him on it. "We are individuals, not archetypes. Sure, you're a Sith, but you aren't very Dark." At least lately, he's not. She's met plenty of Lords who seem a whole lot Darker than the real Darth Sion. "And I'm the worst Jedi ever," she reminds him, "so I'm hardly a good representative of the Light. Stop thinking of us like that, will you?" Tony gets tiresome with his penchant for religiosity.

"I guess you're right. We're both impure versions of what we pretend to be. Less Dark and Light, and more grey in between."

"I don't even know what that means," she huffs as she swings her sword. "What does grey mean? And why do we even need labels?"

"Labels are how people understand things. Labels connote roles, rights, and obligations."

"Who cares what people think?" she grumbles.

"The Sith do. We are leaders, and so we care a lot about how we are perceived." Tony ducks an incoming stun bolt from a droid. Then, he muses, "Revan moved towards the middle and then reportedly vacillated between extremes. He was Light trending grey before he went full-on Dark and then was brainwashed back into the Light. Careening back and forth. Where do you suppose he ended up when he set off to kill Vitiate?"

"I hope in the Light," Meetra answers.

"And if we rescue him and he's Dark?"

She replies without hesitation. "I'm fine with that." She'll take Revan as is. Darth Revan is fine.

"How will we know which he is?" Tony wonders as he shifts into position for the new drill they have added to their warmup. "What will make him Dark versus Light?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"Yes."

Meetra thinks before responding. "I suppose it's a matter of intent. Was Revan seeking to bring Vitiate to justice? Or, did he want revenge? Motivation matters."

"Does it?" Tony grunts. "That's a rather fine line, don't you think? I killed Telos and his brothers for revenge and for justice. I assure you, the affair was very Dark."

Meetra rephrases her answer now. "I guess what I mean is that it matters who the motivation is for. Revenge seems very personal, very selfish to me. It's driven by anger, it seeks payback. That makes it Dark. But justice is a commitment to a principle. Underlying justice is the concept of fairness . . . maybe a sense of proportionality, too. Bringing someone to justice is more than punishment. Justice upholds a moral code."

Tony nods along, but she can tell he's not satisfied with her answer. "These are hard questions."

"Yes, and they make my head spin." And her heart hurt. "Can't we just look to see whether Revan's eyes are yellow?" Meetra sighs.

Tony laughs and snorts. "Sure. That works. Not always, but usually."

Meetra herself has spent a lot of time thinking about Light versus Dark. Her lived experience as a Crusader and then as the Exile has forced her to grapple with the dual nature of the Force. And though she has tried to make sense of it, she still has not arrived at a guiding principle to explain it. But she knows the Jedi teaching is wrong, at least in this instance.

"You know, the Jedi Order thinks that if you are the slightest bit Dark, then you are all Dark in their eyes. We teach that Darkness is a taint for the soul. That once you start down the Dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. This balance concept you keep talking about doesn't exist for us. There isn't a middle ground to be found . . . there is no 'grey' like you keep referring to. There is definitely not some magical equilibrium between the two sides of the Force that balances the universe."

Meetra fully recognizes that 'Dark equals evil' is a bright line rule which is easy for the Jedi Council to apply. There is no fact and circumstances evaluation involved that might start the Order down a slippery slope into accommodating a certain amount of Darkness. But were her friends who followed Revan truly evil? Meetra hopes not. And she herself has had yellow eyes while she simultaneously yearned to rejoin the Light. Is she evil? Meetra thinks not. For how can you be evil if you want to do better? Shouldn't you be allowed at least a chance at redemption?

Meetra throws her sword to slice through an incoming droid and keeps talking woefully about her least favorite subject. "I think the Jedi are wrong about the Dark Side, and they probably know it. But I understand why the Order teaches what they do. Darkness is dangerous. I see why the Council wants to control it and to contain it. It's paternalism, I know, but look at what happened to the Crusaders . . . and even to me in the end . . . " Meetra's getting a little choked up just thinking about this. "The Jedi say they hate the sin, not the sinner, but that's not how they approach the Dark Side. Force-blind repeat criminals in the Republic got more due process and forgiveness than I did . . . "

"I'm sorry, Meetra."

"Yeah, me too," she sniffs. "The worst part was that they were basically pushing me into Darkness by banishing me. They fully expected that's where I would end up. But it felt like they were setting me up to fail . . . maybe so they could point a finger at me and be right . . . " And that's a large part of why Meetra is determined to cling to the Light. The Order might have cast her out, but she can still live in the Light, if only to prove them wrong.

Tony now volunteers, "If Revan's Dark when we find him, I think that means he really is the Sith'ari . . . "

Meetra would rather her friend be a Republic hero, than a Sith hero. She makes a face. "I guess we'll see . . . "

"I have upset you." Her emotions are leaking across the bond.

"Yeah," Meetra admits. "Try the lightning again," she suggests as she wipes away a tear.

Tony summons Force lightning now to shoot at a practice droid. It's red, not the usual blue, thanks to the intensity of the emotions he vicariously summons through the bond. This is the unique power leverage the dyad brings: her pain combined with his skills makes for some truly formidable Force tricks. At first, Meetra was horrified to watch Tony manifest her own Darkness. But she has come to think of it as a way to make sense of her suffering. She can't change the past and she still struggles to accept it. But if the past can be used for something good—like rescuing Revan or killing Dark Lord Vitiate—then it has new meaning.

"Let's be sure to get you in a very bad mood when we storm the Palace," Tony jokes as he fires off more red lightning with effortless ease.

"That won't be a problem," Meetra responds grimly. When she comes face to face with Darth Vitiate, she's certain to be seething.

Not all of her and Tony's new training regimen is combat. It's also meditation and experimentation. Tony unsuccessfully tries to heal, groping around at borrowing her Light instead of her Darkness. He wants to learn to heal so he won't be so dependent on her. Meetra voices strong misgivings, for she knows Tony stays alive at his unnatural age and physical condition through Darkness. The Light Side is dangerous for him in a way it isn't for others.

For her part, Meetra makes tentative stabs at channeling her emotions for power. When she gets upset now and then, she tries to shoot lightning instead of repressing her feelings. But old habits die hard and using the Dark Side isn't easy. Plus, when she succeeds, she feels terribly guilty. Tony laughs and assures her she's the worst Sith ever if she can't glory in her power. For all her talk of being a bad Jedi, Tony insists that she's a terrible Sith. She knows he does it to make her feel better.

Stoking the dyad means their mutual dependence shows no signs of abating. Tony continues to need her care and she continues to depend on his power. Meetra cannot seem to heal him beyond a certain point. And he's unsuccessful helping her to connect with the Force on her own. What does it mean for Tony to live managing his ever-present mortal wounds? What does it mean that the Force flows to her freely through the dyad, but she is a deaf mute to its power without their special connection? He's literally forever wounded and she's a wound in the Force. They each can help one another, but they cannot seem to cure each other's afflictions.

"I guess we're a perfect pair," Tony smirks about the issue, adding, "You're stuck with me, Little Jedi."

Meetra shrugs. "It's cool. You're the best Sith Lord I know." She might have ended up bonded to a far worse man than Darth Sion. She's grateful to be partnered with likable, principled Tony. "Maybe the Force knows we each deserve a second chance. We both fucked things up the first time."

"To live is to learn," Tony responds. He's suddenly reflective. "I'm almost two hundred and fifty years old, and I still keep learning."

"I don't want to live that long."

"You won't," Tony assures her. He indulges in another one of his corny jokes. "You're already dead, remember?"

"Not officially," she bemoans. "We're still waiting for the confirmation."

But they don't have to wait much longer. Meetra walks out of the shower the next morning to find Tony grinning ear to ear as he waves his datapad in her face. "Good news! Word of your kill has leaked from the Palace. I'm getting congratulatory messages."

"So . . . I'm finally dead?" she asks hopefully.

"You are widely rumored to be dead. Unconfirmed sources report you were slain in a duel on an outpost system."

"This is a good sign, right?"

"Absolutely," Tony exhales relief.

He doesn't publicly announce her demise while he awaits the official Palace announcement. Lord Sion knows better than to steal the Emperor's thunder by announcing such a morale boosting, symbolic revenge first. But he does privately tell the two young boys Meetra once met at the Temple. They are the sons of Tony's captain, who Meetra killed on Korriban. Tony presents the remaining ashes purported to be of Jedi General Meetra Surik to the boys and their mother. Meetra stands beside Tony as he announces to the family that their father has been avenged. She watches uncomfortably as the tearful trio reverently add her 'ashes' to the Temple urn that contains the charred remnants of other dead enemies of Darth Sion.

Meetra is deeply unsettled about all of it—from the creepy custom, to the deception, to her part in their loved one's death. Afterwards, when she vents to Tony about it, he tells it that it was necessary closure and not to overthink it. That lie is probably the kindest thing you could do for them under the circumstances, Tony asserts. But she's not so sure. Meetra's also keenly aware of how commonplace lies have become in her life these days.

When you live a lie so thoroughly, it becomes a sort of truth. Because from a certain point of view, Meetra Surik is truly dead, and Lady Sion lives. Maybe, Meetra thinks, that's a good thing. She's been searching for a new identity ever since she was banished. Perhaps it's time to stop resisting Tony, and fully embrace the role he's offering her. Some days, she's confident that she can get there—that if she remains the Exile after Vitiate dies and Revan is rescued, then she will commit to the attachment she currently pretends. But other days, she stares with dismay at the dark-haired glamour girl in the mirror, remembers those yellow eyes she once sported, and cringes at the unrecognizable woman she has become. Thankfully, the issue isn't ripe. There's no pressure to decide right now.

Meanwhile, time is running out as Lacerate's coup attempt fast approaches. Unsurprisingly, she and Tony aren't the only ones worried about that unspecified deadline. Tony reports one night at dinner, "Cornelius sent me a message today. He has formally invited us to visit for the holidays. The note was exquisitely worded and strongly emphatic."

Meetra's eyes narrow. "And that is code for?"

"He really wants us to come."

She puts down her fork. "You said Dromund Kaas is too dangerous."

"Staying here while Lacerate makes his move might be even more risky," Tony worries. He sighs and sits back in his chair to consider her disguise. "The clothes are good, the dark hair helps, and you've been working on the accent some . . . "

"It comes and goes," she admits sheepishly.

Tony snorts. "You used to sound Republic, but now you just sound plain odd. But that's not the real issue. It's your unusual Force imprint."

"I can't hide that."

"I know."

"Can you hide me? You know, keep me in the house away from everyone?"

"I don't know . . . On Dromund Kaas, the holidays are a zoo of obligatory nightly parties and all-day social appearances. You could sit some of it out, but not all of it. Not without raising questions. The servants would talk, for sure."

"The risk is that I get discovered and we get arrested, right?"

"Yes."

"And that was a problem when you thought we had more time and you didn't want to be rushed into confronting Vitiate?"

"Yes, but Lacerate's moving fast. Cornelius' message could not be more emphatic."

"That means we need to beat his timetable. For that," she points out, "we need to convince your brother-in-law to be Dark Lord."

"Yes," Tony affirms. "And we have to do that in-person. In-person on Dromund Kaas."

"Dromund Kaas is where the Palace is—it's where we need to be to attack the Emperor anyway, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, we should go."

"I know."

"What's the hold up?"

Tony frowns. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Just like I did before Lacerate showed up for dinner."

"Yeah, I understand," Meetra commiserates. "Are we even ready to take on Vitiate?"

"No. Not really." Tony is glumly honest.

Meetra doesn't disagree. She and Tony are very good—maybe even great at times—but that might not be the standard to impress Darth Azamin. And will it be enough to kill the Emperor? That's the real goal.

"If Azamin declines, do we still come for Vitiate?"

"I don't know . . . I can see a scenario where we let Lacerate distract Vitiate while we go spring Revan from jail and hope he wants to be Dark Lord."

Saving Revan sounds good to her, except it enormously complicates matters. Meetra states the obvious immediate consequence. "If we do that, we might be starting the civil war that Azamin fears."

"I know. Cornelius and I might end up on opposing sides," Tony frets. His face says it all: he might be willing to tolerate the tyrant Emperor remaining in power in order to safeguard what's left of his family.

Silence falls between them now. Because that scenario is when her goals and Tony's goals might start to diverge. Up until now, they have been on the same page strategically, but that might not remain the case if Tony has to choose between his bestie brother-in-law and regime change.

Tony knows what she's thinking as he meets her eyes warily.

Meetra reminds him, "This has always been a long shot. So many things will have to fall into place and go right for us to win."

"I know," he nods.

"There is terrible risk in all of this, for each of us."

"I know."

"Isn't this capital visit just more risk?"

"Yes."

"But you're worried . . . Did you have a vision or something?" Meetra squints at Tony, trying to understand why her always dedicated treasonous pretend husband suddenly has misgivings.

"It's probably nothing. I'm being overly cautious, I'm sure."

"We don't have to decide tonight, do we?"

"We have to decide soon. I need to respond to Cornelius. Plus, there are practical considerations. Taking you to Dromund Kaas will require a bunch of new clothes."

"My clothes are fine."

"Fine for here. Not for two weeks in residence at the Caesar family villa during the holiday social season. Meetra, you don't know what true Sith society is like. There will be intense scrutiny from a bunch of snobs and haters. You'll need to fit in. Everything is ultra formal and there is a rigid hierarchy. You think the Lords are competitive with one another? Just wait until you meet the Ladies."

Yikes. "Okay . . . Well, whatever it is, I can handle that."

"I know you can. Maybe we could split our time on Dromund Kaas between the city and the family's country estate. Hiding you there for some of the time might be a compromise approach. We will need to keep a low profile. Let me think about it some."

"Alright," As always, Meetra defers to Tony's judgement on matters of Sith culture.

But as it turns out, the decision of whether to visit the Imperial capital isn't theirs to make. Overnight, a message from the Palace arrives. Darth Sion is congratulated for his valiant defeat of the enemy General, the longtime fugitive Jedi Exile Meetra Surik. Per his wishes, the bounty prize has been paid to the Daughters of the Empire charity. In special recognition for this generous, public-spirited gift, the Emperor himself is contributing a matching sum to the organization. Darth Sion is requested to make himself available to state media for an official interview about the duel. Edited excerpts of the recording of the fight will be provided publicly, but Lord Sion is instructed not to release any additional footage. Finally, Lord and Lady Sion are summoned to the Palace for an audience with the Dark Lord in his throne room as part of the annual holiday celebrations.

"This is a command performance, right?" Worried Meetra looks to Tony, who is preoccupied re-reading the summons. Her pretend husband and supposed slayer looks pale even for his usual self. His expression suggests he is reading his own death warrant.

"I guess we're going to Dromund Kaas," is his soft reply.