#yzwrites

“Oh, you hateful little thing. You want to curb my potential.”

“Your potential gives me headaches,” Lana snipped back, leaning over to place a kiss on her temple. “Now, stop thinking and rest.”

“And forget everything I’ve said here, hm?”

“Preferrably. But if you don’t, I have ways of dealing with you.”

“Ooh,” Vestra crooned. “Then I shall not forget.”

Lana pinched her cheek as she withdrew. “Incorrigible.”

With a chuckle, Vestra refocused her attention on the bulkhead, which her eyes never left. Her mind sifted through the memory of each nightmare spectre she had seen, and she wondered if the Commander would have seen the same. If Aelirra would have had to…

Her smile faded. When she spoke, it was flat. “I killed you. In a hallucination.”

“Oh? Enjoyed yourself, did you?”

She was nearly killed in that vision, and barely saved herself by thrusting her lightsaber into not-Lana’s chest. The killing wasn’t real, but the tremble in her hands while she struggled to lift her weak knees from the floor was painfully so.

Even now she felt nauseated, and refused to look at Lana for fear that she would heave.

“A little,” she retorted, hating how weak she had not intended to sound.

Vestra braced herself when Lana stood, and she was proud to not throw up when her wife’s face came into view. Lana cupped her face, bare hand warm against her cheek.

“It wasn’t real,” Lana murmured.

Any vow or reassurance would feel weak on her tongue now, she knew. So Vestra settled for the next thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

“I know.” Lana smiled and gave her a gentle kiss. Sitting back in her chair, Lana twined their hands together, the cool touch of her ring settling between Vestra’s fingers. “Rest, love. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Now the first, easier subject - the Empire. Lana has proven willing to work with the Republic and non-humans since SoR, already going against two big Imperial no-no’s even back before the Empire started recruiting non-human species into the military. This doesn’t mean she is not prejudiced - her comment about Mandalorians in KotFE is one example (her haters looove to bring up) - it just means she is pragmatic enough not to allow such bias and taboos stop her from working for (what she deems as) the greater good.

It demonstrates a flexibility and willingness to examine her own (and the Empire’s) beliefs, and her comment here in 7.8 is proof that it happened long before SoR. Tying this into Ves’ reckoning, I don’t think they’ll have much conflict here. Ves’ primary grievance is the slavery, of course, and I feel it wouldn’t take Lana much to concede on that point. Perhaps not completely, but in a ‘I see its utility, but I also recognise its injustice and the benefit of not building an Empire reliant on slave labour’ sort of way.

It’s a compromise, but Ves is not looking to change her partner, bend her out of shape. She doesn’t need Lana to go on a crusade, merely acknowledge what’s been done to her and anyone else who’d suffered the same, and avoid engaging with it.

Now…we come to the Sith. They won’t clash over Sith philosophy, its creed of might is right. Ves has benefited from this very philosophy, having proven her power and ascended to the Dark Council to rule the Empire. She still believes that being Sith is able to give one great power and the liberty of self-determination (albeit with its own limits). If seized and used well, it can elevate even the most wretched of society - herself being an example, of course.

What she cannot come to terms with is personal - that she had to be broken down, utterly, in order to be reshaped into a Sith, broken pieces and all. The person she is as Sith is powerful, dominating, yes - but she also hurts constantly, incessantly, and she doesn’t know how to deal with all of it, so she just buries it and hopes she’ll continue to survive with it.

I think Lana can and will sympathise with Vestra’s pain - she did go through the same trials, after all. She understands (at least partly) what Ves went through. But where they’ll differ is whether this pain is necessary, whether this path is for everyone. Because to Ves, even with all the power she’d attained, she isn’t sure if it was worth all the pain she’d suffered. But for Lana, yes, it was worth it, and no one is Sith without it.

Even beyond the literal meat grinder that is the Sith Academy, the Sith ranks is a brutal, dog-eat-dog world. No one survives here without suffering some sort of pain, without having to sacrifice a part of themselves for the dark power they need and crave. Lana may seem to have adjusted well, a true believer raised in an environment that reveres the Sith, but I believe it has taken a toll on her as well. I mean, the corruption has reached her eyes, hasn’t it? (Beautiful as they are.) 

(Also personally, I think Lana is depicted too ‘clean’ sometimes. And her Sith identity has lost its bite after Iokath. But that’s a discussion for another day. If I ever get to it.)

Lana and Ves will reach an accord over this, separating the reality of Sith and Ves’ personal experiences, but it will be a rollercoaster ride getting there. Because Ves’ questioning will turn from: ‘So what happened to me was necessary?’ to ‘Is this why you love me? Powerful because I was broken? Will you leave me when I’ve healed my wounds?’

Vestra wiggled her toes, relieved they could still move. The movement set off some discomfort, but it was hardly noticeable under the constant thrum of pain in her body. She tried to prop herself on both elbows, intending to test the weight atop her, but the effort only made her swoon, and she relaxed before darkness conquered her vision and senses again.

This was not good. She was half numb and half in agony, and she couldn’t pinpoint the source of it. Her best guess was that damned rubble piled on top of her, so she focused on that first. If she had to die, better it be in view of the sky than trapped in this makeshift tomb.

The Force was slow to respond, but she gripped tight every sliver that gathered to her, using pain-stoked anger to crush as much Force as possible into a tiny nexus within her hands. When she’d gathered enough, roiling energy raring to break free, she let it loose.

The explosion rocked the floor she lay on, and she nearly lost consciousness when the debris atop her was ripped away, torso wracked with acute agony. Hands curling into tight fists, with faint ringing in her ears, she heaved to hands and knees, whole body screaming as she staggered to her feet. The world threatened to spin around her, but she forced calm onto her senses and gazed up at the sky.

Judging by the mellow sunlight spilling over her, it should be late afternoon, turning soon into sunset. She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a full, clean breath of air, before looking around her. 

She stood on the third floor of the tower, in a hollow niche she’d blasted out of a slope of debris. Her crew was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t matter. Opening herself to the bond, she felt Lana’s heart leap on its other end, pulling her towards it. She broke into a wry smirk at her love’s dizzying rush of relief. Trust Lana to worry overmuch.

Pain still clouded her head and slowed the dexterity of her limbs, but Vestra picked her way carefully down the rubble, half-climbing in Lana’s direction. Her attention was wholly consumed by the physical exertion, until a shout in the distance tilted her head up.

There they were, jogging up a street ruined by missiles and blasterfire – her crew. Their pace slowed as they stared at her, as if in disbelief, and she took the chance to look them over. Lana, Khem Val, Ashara, Talos, Andronikos, Xalek. All here. Save for the few kolto patches and bruises, they seemed to have survived Zakuul’s bombing run intact.

She called out to them, a jibe for taking so long to find her – before realising their relief had turned to slow, mounting horror. Their pace quickened, trailing after Lana who led the group at a run. Her gloved hand flew up to the side of her grey robes, clutching it subconsciously.

Curious, Vestra mimicked the motion and–, oh. Blood. A hole. Not a small one. 

She looked down and saw that ragged hole torn through her side, giving her a glimpse of bloody innards – but they didn’t yield to gravity and spill out, as if they shared her defiant incredulity at the situation. What in the world did that? Was it part of the rubble? That acute pain she’d felt when the slab flew from her…perhaps there was some extrusion that–

The strain hit her then, cutting short her runaway musing. Her insides hadn’t spilled out because she had been using the Force to hold herself together on instinct, keeping herself up and moving. Darth Avriss snubbing her nose at the mortal limits of her own body, playing at invulnerability through sheer obstinacy.

Oh…they’re going to be insufferable.

Lana reached her first, sprinting forward to catch her when her legs finally gave out. Vestra let herself go limp, surrendering to the inevitable fussing and nagging and–

She cried out when Lana lifted her in sturdy arms, setting off a hundred aches in her bones and flesh. Lana carried her to the street and laid her down on the sidewalk with much more care, and Vestra bit on her tongue to keep from lashing out at her rescuers.

Despite the pain, she released her desperate hold on the Force, relaxing as she handed control to the worried faces hovering over her.

“How do you feel?” Lana asked, the rhetorical question spilling out like a bad habit as she touched Vestra’s stomach, beside that blasted wound.

“I’m fine.”

“Your guts are showing, idiot,” Ashara bit at her, kneeling opposite Lana. “You’re not fine.”

“Says you.” Vestra pulled her lips into a smile when Lana cupped her face. Her love’s heart raced beside her own calm counterpart. Funny, that.

Despite Vestra’s stubbornly casual mien, Lana’s expression didn’t lighten as Ashara called on the Force, weaving it around Vestra in preparation for healing. 

“I’m fine,” Vestra repeated in reassurance – because she was.

I've always pictured Aelirra breaking away from the Order (though still keeping ties with them) and creating her own sect, setting up an enclave on Odessen.

Her first followers will be from the Alliance, and perhaps a few Jedi in the Order who admire her and don't mind leaving to join her. I imagine more followers will arrive from word-of-mouth, and Kira's search for younglings will definitely contribute to the sect's numbers too.

Because Kira will help Ael establish the sect. Her relationship with Ael aside, she has always shown an independent streak, having her own ideas of how the Jedi should act ('Jedi should get political', etc).

It always seemed to me that she's loyal to the Jedi Order because it's the better alternative to the life of a Sith runaway on Nar Shaddaa. Now that she has options...well. I'd like to think she'll be open to other paths. In this case, her lover's sect that she can have a hand in shaping.

Now, tying this all in with Aelirra and 7.8.1...sigh. I'd thought of cutting my fics' timelines before the whole Nul holocron plot happens. But now there's DA:I Trespasser writing all over the walls, and I suspect the Alliance will either be entirely absorbed into either faction or dissolved.

This works for Aelirra breaking away, but it'll be so much more painful and heartbreaking. My original plan involved an amicable parting from the Order. 7.8.1 would steer Aelirra towards a more explosive, angry separation from both the Order and Republic.

I mean, what better way to push away your most loyal weapon Jedi than to turn on her and everything she'd done for the galaxy and you?

I had Ael lashing out at the Chancellor and her Republic escorts in this update, which was a surprise to me, but felt oh so right in her journey to become independent. Not just a Jedi, but a person in her own right, with her own needs and wants.

And it's so fitting that she would only stop helping someone when it is they who throw her hand back in the first place. Aelirra still has the heart of a hero, a saviour, willing to help anyone in need. But she has learnt to draw lines in the sand, to step away from where she is not wanted.

“Oh, um. Very much?”

“Good. Bring her in.”

And the channel was cut.

“Well, you heard her. Come on in.” Ashara waved Vette in, who peered at her with obvious incredulity, then set a tentative foot into the airlock.

“You guys actually have cake in here?” 

“Yeah, we made one to celebrate a job well done.” And the chance to finally get away from the Wrath’s oppressive presence, but Ashara kept her lips sealed on that one. The Wrath was Vette’s master, and though she could sense a thread of disdain in her…

“That’s awesome. We never have cake or any treats like that on our ship,” Vette said, as Ashara led her towards the galley. “It’s just rations and more rations and the tears of our victims. It gets so old.”

“I’ll bet,” Ashara replied drily, turning into the galley. The crew was seated around the table, with one extra chair pulled up for their guest…beside Ashara’s empty seat.

She grimaced inwardly, hoping against hope that her crew would not embarrass her tonight. Judging from Vestra’s eyes on her, though…

“Come, sit.” Vestra gestured at the chair. “Before we finish your portion too.”

“Thanks…my lord.”

Vestra waved dismissively as they took their seats. Vette cast the crew a discreet, calculating glance, then was distracted by Talos setting a large slice of chocolate cake before her with a genial smile.

“Here. My lord is eager for reviews on her new ganache recipe.”

“What, you made this?” Vette blurted, then seemed to remember who she was addressing. “My lord.”

“Avriss, dear. Call me ‘lord’ one more time and you will get no cake.”

“Don’t be mean,” Ashara broke in, cutting into her cake with a fork. “She’s our guest.”

Vette huffed a nervous chuckle. "You guys are weird."

"That's an understatement," Andronikos muttered into his cup of caf.

"Most of it's her fault, I swear." Ashara gestured at Vestra, who cocked a brow.

"Hey, I'll take a weirdo Sith Lord over the Wrath any day."

"Any Sith would look weird beside that joyless little cunt," Vestra said airily. She looked over the piece of cake speared on her fork, as if her comment hadn’t vented the air clean from the room.

While Vestra delivered the cake delicately into her mouth, all eyes were on Vette, who sat frozen…then burst abruptly into peals of laughter. Ashara set a hand on her back when Vette rocked back in her seat, palms pressed into her eyes as she rode out the forceful laughs. Only when Vette started taking half-breathless gasps did Ashara realise they sounded dangerously close to dry sobs, and that Vette's hands were trembling.

When the twi'lek calmed down - with Ashara's hand rubbing soothingly on her back - she reached for the fork, surprisingly cool. 'Yeah. Yeah, she's a fucking cunt."

"Would you poison her for me if we gave you a second slice of cake?" Vestra asked.

"Nah. Not worth it. That's a nice thought, though."

"But we'll give you as much cake as you want, regardless." Talos’ warm smile inspired a chocolatey grin. 

"Thanks," Vette said, muffled through a mouthful of cake, then gulped it down with relish. "You know, I think I like you guys. And this cake, wow."

"I poisoned it," Vestra said.

"Ignore her," Ashara cut in, rolling her eyes. "So…tell us, how did you end up with the Wrath?"