Argument Series

(Yo hey everyone I live lol, if anyone’s actually reading this it’s here! Poetry by JRR Tolkien. @kaminoanbat @naberiie Enjoy!!!)

When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough; When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow; When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air, Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!

Time flew on Asfaloth. Maybe a little too fast. It seemed like yesterday, and yet it had been a full six standard months since Rowan had asked Doriana to marry him. The dark blue engagement ring glittering on her finger made Rowan’s heart stop every time she held his hand. For the past several weeks the house hadn’t been quiet - the very air buzzed with the excitement of planning such an event. Sending the invitations, ordering the food, everything that went with it. It was wonderful, the anticipation of it all. Although it was rather a pain to keep Doriana from throwing a fit every time something went wrong. “Doriana, love. Please,” Rowan said softly, trying to catch her hand as they stood in the kitchen, surrounded by open recipe books. “It’s just a little thing, let’s just calm down -” “I will not calm down! This needs to be perfect, it needs to go right, damn it Rowan! It’s our wedding, it needs-” Doriana threw her hands up and Rowan grabbed her waist, pulling her into his chest. Partly because he’d learned that calmed her down, and partly because it was just very nice to hold her. “Mesh’la.” He kissed her forehead, his voice soft.”Getting married to you is perfect.” He kissed the small dip between in her montrals, loving how she shivered at the touch of his lips. “The wedding is just a ceremony. It’s just a formality.” Doriana pouted. “But it’s an important formality. The dress, the vows- the kiss.” “And we will have all of those. But you need to breathe.” “I am breathing!” She said indignantly. Rowan laughed and shook his head. “Of course you are, love. Let’s go for a walk, alright? Let the others handle it. It’ll be just fine.”

……….

It was not fine. Not even close. Damn Rowan and his pretty words, seducing Dreu’s sister into getting married!

She threw a large glass bottle at the wall. Charm narrowly avoided getting hit with flying glass, swearing as he ducked. Ligara squeaked. "Dreu!” “Doriana is going to kill us.” Dreu muttered, pulling on her lekku. “She’s going to skin us and hang us by our entrails and-” She fell silent when Ligara covered her eyes and mouth with her long delicate hands. “Relax, Dreu.” Rogue chuckled. “Doriana is not going to hang or skin anyone, because it’s going to go right.” He smiled. “Take a break, yeah? We got this for a while.”

 ( @kaminoanbat I actually did Not Like my last chapter of this so here, have a rewrite before I dive into the rest of the series ^0^ I like this one waaay better. The first scene with Rogue and Cat I kept the same since that one was actually good imo)

Rogue said nothing when Doriana followed Rowan outside. In fact he tried not to react at all,  though he did see Switch roll his eyes and mouth ‘finally’ to Cat. He swallowed and looked down at his datapad again, burying his other hand in the purring tooka’s fur. When the two came back in, any fool could see how close they were standing. How red Rowan’s face was, and how dark Doriana’s stripes had gotten. But nobody mentioned it. Well, Damyan whistled under his breath, but that was just him being a brat. Of course they were being completely obvious about it, but he knew Rowan at least wouldn’t like people noticing. Rogue kept pretending to read, and while he did smile slyly at Rowan and Doriana, his mind wasn’t really in it. Everything about being around other clones- especially Cat - and seeing Rowan and Doriana do the same dance he’d done once (the glances and smiles, the sneaking around and thinking nobody would notice) - all he could think of was Winger. His Winger, his heart. All he could think of was him, and he hurt.

Rogue huffed and shook his head, his silver earrings jangling. It wasn’t fair of him to be depressing and moping around when everyone else was so happy. He’d just spoil it. So he took those thoughts - those precious memories - and buried them deep in his heart where nobody could see.

When he looked up again, he could see it hadn’t worked. Dreu was watching him with her arms crossed and looked like she wanted to smack him, which was her way of showing worry. Draake had much the same expression, if slightly less aggressive. He smiled and shrugged as he looked at them, and then away. He’d sort of expected those two to notice.

What he didn’t expect was Cat noticing too.

“How’s it hanging, Witcher?” Cat swung down from the beam he’d been perched on and dropped into Rogue’s lap, grinning at him.

Rogue rolled his eyes and pushed him off so he fell to the floor with a huff of laughter.

“It’s Rogue, you little miscreant,” he said affectionately. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the only one hanging around here.”

Cat popped up from the floor, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes and grinning. He wasn’t at all bothered by falling, it seemed.

“What’s with the sour face, brother? I thought you liked it here.” He hopped up nimbly onto the chair beside Rogue, perching with his knees up like some kind of unholy Acklay hybrid.

Rogue sighed, rolling his eyes and setting the datapad aside. Obscure Rylothian witchcraft rituals would have to wait, apparently.

“I know you weren’t part of Topple very long,” he said in a low voice, leaning closer. “But I know you remember Winger.”

“Course I do,” Cat said, losing some of that bright cheerful spark he had. It almost looked like the whiskers on his cheeks were drooping.

“Well, he and I, we….” Rogue swallowed. “Before the tank -”

“I know.” Cat hopped over to share Rogue’s chair and leaned against him. “He wouldn’t shut up about you even back then. Gods, he was so annoying.”

Rogue tried to smile past the lump in his throat, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. Witcher! Where are you? The echo of a scream from long ago rose in his mind. He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“I miss him so much,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. What if he doesn’t even remember me?”

Just saying the words out loud sent a chill of horror through him. He touched the fortune charm around his neck and whispered a spell to ward off evil things.

“That would never happen.” Cat sounded totally certain, and even a bit defensive. “Winger would never forget you. Ever. Just like I would never, ever forget Mouse.”

Rogue blinked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You and Mouse were together?”

Cat shifted over and rested his chin on his knees, staring moodily at the dinner table. “Nah. Never got the chance to be.” He sounded casual, but there was weighted sorrow behind the words. “But….I would have, if he’d asked.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Dori told me I’d see him again, once,” he murmured finally. “Read my palm and everything. I dunno if it’s gonna happen, but….well, who am I to argue with Fate?”

Cat sniffed and stood up, stretching. “We’ll see them again,” he said. It didn’t much sound like he believed it, but Rogue appreciated the sentiment anyway.

…………

( @kaminoanbat I bet u didn’t think I’d finish the next chapter so fast did you? ^-^ Enjoy a whole lot of new characters everyone!)

Rogue said nothing when Doriana followed Rowan outside. In fact he tried not to react at all,  though he did see Switch roll his eyes and mouth ‘finally’ to Cat. He swallowed and looked down at his datapad again, burying his other hand in the purring tooka’s fur. When the two came back in, any fool could see how close they were standing. How red Rowan’s face was, and how dark Doriana’s stripes had gotten. But nobody mentioned it. Well, Damyan whistled under his breath, but that was just him being a brat. Of course they were being completely obvious about it, but he knew Rowan at least wouldn’t like people noticing. Rogue kept pretending to read, and while he did smile slyly at Rowan and Doriana, his mind wasn’t really in it. Everything about being around other clones- especially Cat - and seeing Rowan and Doriana do the same dance he’d done once (the glances and smiles, the sneaking around and thinking nobody would notice) - all he could think of was Winger. His Winger, his heart. All he could think of was him, and he hurt.

Rogue huffed and shook his head, his silver earrings jangling. It wasn’t fair of him to be depressing and moping around when everyone else was so happy. He’d just spoil it. So he took those thoughts - those precious memories - and buried them deep in his heart where nobody could see.

When he looked up again, he could see it hadn’t worked. Dreu was watching him with her arms crossed and looked like she wanted to smack him, which was her way of showing worry. Draake had much the same expression, if slightly less aggressive. He smiled and shrugged as he looked at them, and then away. He’d sort of expected those two to notice.

What he didn’t expect was Cat noticing too.

“How’s it hanging, Witcher?” Cat swung down from the beam he’d been perched on and dropped into Rogue’s lap, grinning at him.

Rogue rolled his eyes and pushed him off so he fell to the floor with a huff of laughter.

“It’s Rogue, you little miscreant,” he said affectionately. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the only one hanging around here.”

Cat popped up from the floor, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes and grinning. He wasn’t at all bothered by falling, it seemed.

“What’s with the sour face, brother? I thought you liked it here.” He hopped up nimbly onto the chair beside Rogue, perching with his knees up like some kind of unholy Acklay hybrid.

Rogue sighed, rolling his eyes and setting the datapad aside. Obscure Rylothian witchcraft rituals would have to wait, apparently.

“I know you weren’t part of Topple very long,” he said in a low voice, leaning closer. “But I know you remember Winger.”

“Course I do,” Cat said, losing some of that bright cheerful spark he had. It almost looked like the whiskers on his cheeks were drooping.

“Well, he and I, we….” Rogue swallowed. “Before the tank -”

“I know.” Cat hopped over to share Rogue’s chair and leaned against him. “He wouldn’t shut up about you even back then. Gods, he was so annoying.”

Rogue tried to smile past the lump in his throat, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. Witcher! Where are you? The echo of a scream from long ago rose in his mind. He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“I miss him so much,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. What if he doesn’t even remember me?”

Just saying the words out loud sent a chill of horror through him. He touched the fortune charm around his neck and whispered a spell to ward off evil things.

“That would never happen.” Cat sounded totally certain, and even a bit defensive. “Winger would never forget you. Ever. Just like I would never, ever forget Mouse.”

Rogue blinked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You and Mouse were together?”

Cat shifted over and rested his chin on his knees, staring moodily at the dinner table. “Nah. Never got the chance to be.” He sounded casual, but there was weighted sorrow behind the words. “But….I would have, if he’d asked.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“Dori told me I’d see him again, once,” he murmured finally. “Read my palm and everything. I dunno if it’s gonna happen, but….well, who am I to argue with Fate?”

Cat sniffed and stood up, stretching. “We’ll see them again,” he said. It didn’t much sound like he believed it, but Rogue appreciated the sentiment anyway.

…….

(I seriously doubt anyone but @kaminoanbat is still reading these but I’m still writing them!!! Slowly!!! This chapter is all Rowan, since my darling son has a very loud voice that’s easy to write and I was feeling down. Also: I may or may not have borrowed some words from Sindarin as Lothic words. I regret nothing. Enjoy!)

The dinner table took up most of one corner of the kitchen, a large circle of some native wood with chairs surrounding it. Some of them had been scratched or carved, and at least one had been broken and put back together. It was kind of homely, in a lived in sort of way. Not something Rowan had ever had much of; it gave him a strange, almost nostalgic feeling. Which made no sense at all.

The whole house was like that - patched together in ways that shouldn’t work, but actually made things stronger. Cheerful, fierce and unapologetically chaotic. The flagstone floor, rough and unpolished, dully reflected the light from a dozen different types of lightbulbs in the homemade fixture on the ceiling. The air was warm and full of laughter and the scent of unknown spices.

“Damyan Erithuda, I know you do not have those damned urchins at my dinner table,” Draake’s voice was deceptively lazy; anyone in the immediate vicinity could hear him perfectly. The twi'lek man didn’t even turn from where he and Doriana were preparing a meal.

(Here’s chapter 10, when everyone finally gets to see Asfaloth! Can’t remember if it was the same in the other chapters but ellipses here mean a switch in perspective, since we did it from lots this time. @wiccanbat and anyone else who’s reading this, enjoy!)

The bridge is quiet when Dreu reclaims her spot in the pilot’s seat. With the engine prepped and ready for when they enter Asfaloth’s atmo, she can finally relax and pilot her ship. She knows this ship, knows its every secret and glitch and odd little complaint. The Ebinor has been her best friend for years, and it’s good to have time with just her and her old friend again.

But of course, it’s not to be. The door slides open with a soft hiss. Dreu’s hands clench on the arms of her seat as she turns, baring her teeth. “What the frell do you want-”

“Easy, sister.” Doriana speaks in Lothic, their home tongue. It’s a much harsher language than Basic. “Just me.”

Dreu relaxes slightly.

“What’s on your mind? You and Rowan in my engine room?” Dreu smirks at Doriana.

“Ay, no. Nothing happened between us.” Doriana smacks her sister’s arm. “Nosy witch!”

Dreu laughs. Doriana’s fooling nobody, not with the stripes of her lekku so darkened, but Dreu won’t press the matter. Not yet, anyway. “What’s on your mind then?”

Doriana looks down, biting her lip, and Dreu frowns. It’s not like her sister to be reluctant to speak - not between them. They can always talk to each other.

“Is it about what woke you up last night?” Dreu asks, keeping her voice as gentle as she can. 

Doriana looks up sharply at her. “How-?”

“Rogue,” Dreu says, and Doriana groans. Dreu ignores that and searches her sister’s face. “Are you okay? You don’t usually have nightmares. What was it about?”

Doriana hesitates just for a second, before she looks up to meet Dreu’s eyes. “Mother. It was about Mother.”

Dreu inhales sharply, pressing her lips together. “What happened?”

…………

Rogue catches Rowan outside the galley, looking some what dazed. Briefly, he wonders whether he should even ask - but hey, why not? He’s got nothing better to entertain him.

 "What’s on your mind, Rowan?“ Rogue speaks quietly, like a mouse - like Mouse, he thinks to himself - to avoid startling Rowan. 

But Rowan is startled anyway. He gasps as he looks up, and then relaxes again. “Ah, Rogue. Hello.”

"Hey.” Rogue smiles, joining the ARC trooper on the wall. “You’re not in the atmo, so where are ya?" 

"That is an excellent question, brother,” Rowan sighs. He narrows his eyes thoughtfully, hesitating. “I…have a question for you." 

Ah, now this is getting interesting. It reminds Rogue of years ago, of the gossip that flew so quickly through the cadets’ barracks on Kamino. “Yeah? What is it?”

 "Ah, well….” He swallows, shifting his weight. “Doriana has been - she’s -" 

 "She’s been flirting with you?” Rogue cuts in. He will not smile, or laugh. This is serious to Rowan, and Rogue doesn’t want to insult him by making light of it.

 "I suppose so, yes.” He sighs, pulling his braid over his shoulder and worrying the end of it. “But does it - does it mean anything? Is this something that happens for everyone, or is it rare for her…?”

Rogue can’t help it then; he laughs. Poor Rowan just looks so distressed over this. Briefly, he wonders if he looked like that so long ago, pining after Winger as a cadet. 

“Do you like it, vod?” he asks. 

“W-what do you -”

 "Her flirting,” Rogue says. “Do you like it when Doriana flirts with you?“ 

Rowan rubs the back of his neck, his lips pursed. "I- yes. I do like it. It’s…odd. She seems interested in me one minute and then the next she’s making some joke or innuendo that makes whatever moment we might’ve just had feel….lesser. Like it’s just a thing that won’t come up ever again. But they keep happening.” He sighs. 

Rogue thinks for a minute before answering. “Doriana has a gift for defusing things. Fights, arguments, the whole lot. She’s practically a politician. My best guess is that if she is defusing these little moment you two keep having, she doesn’t want them to get serious. Not yet at any rate. Beyond that…” Rogue shrugs. “Dreu would know better than me." 

 Rowan nods. "Thank you. I think. Speaking of the captain, I was going to ask when we can expect to land." 

 Rogue jerks his head to the bridge. "Then let’s go ask." 

…………

"Ay je mai. No wonder you hid away in the engine room. What do you think it means?” Dreu drums her fingers on the bridge counter, and Doriana scoffs.

 "Frell if I know Dreu. It might not mean anything. It was just a dream.“ 

"Last time you had a dream like that we pulled Rogue out from under a tank. The time before that- Mom died. Coincidence?” 

 "You know I don’t believe in coincidences,“ Doriana huffs, tracing her lekku stripes with her arms crossed over her chest.

 "Exactly.” Dreu shifts to face her sister, her voice lowered in concern. “Dori, If we need to warn Dad -" 

……

 "Are we interrupting some sister gossiping that’ll get a blaster thrown at us?” Rogue says as the bridge door hisses open. 

 "No, but I’ll throw it anyways.“ Dreu snaps, turning back to the controls. Doriana glances back and waves at the two men.

 "Hey you two, what’s up?” Her eyes shift to Rowan, and she smiles.

Rogue rolls his eyes. There’s no way he and Winger were ever that obvious. “When we hittin’ planet-side?” he asks, his arms crossed.

“In less than an hour, pretty boy,” Dreu growls. “Calm yer arse down or get off my bridge." 

 "Dreu! Stop being a juian!” Doriana flicks her sister’s lekku; Dreu snarls and swats at Doriana’s hand. 

 Rogue leans against the back of Dreu’s pilot seat, watching the sisters. And Rowan, who’s standing at attention like a proper soldier just behind Doriana in the co-pilot seat. He taps his metal foot, a little annoyed. Surely someone else would notice the way Rowan’s eyes were tracing the patterns on Doriana’s lekku. Or the way he watches her lean forward to flick a switch on the control panel. It’s all a bit ridiculous.

…..

 "Droppin’ from hypo, here we go.“ Dreu practically purrs, her lips curling up to show her sharp teeth. She’s clearly enjoying flying her ship.

They drop out of hyperspace, the whole ship shaking and rattling. Rowan grabs the chair in front of him to steady himself, and Dreu forces a barrel roll to steady her out. 

 "Ay je mai-” Dreu uses the same curse Rowan has heard Doriana use, but Dreu says it sharper, like something breaking under your heel. Doriana had breathed the words, like she was pushing smoke from her lungs. The linguistic difference is momentarily forgotten, as Rowan is thrown into the back of Doriana’s chair as the ship enters atmo.

A few tumultuous minutes later the ship lands. Rowan takes a breath, cautiously standing away from the chair. “Is it safe?” he asks, flexing his stiff fingers. He’d had quite a grip on the back of the seat.

Dreu glances back at him with a look that’s almost amused. “Safe? It’s Asfaloth.”

Rowan blinks at her. “Is that meant to mean something, or…”

Doriana lets out a peal of laughter and reaches for Rowan’s hand. “She means nothing is ever very safe here,” she explains. “But for now? Yes. It’s safe.” 

The landing ramp descends, letting in a burst of iron-scented air and green tinged sunlight. Rowan barely has time to react before a streak of blue, yelling wildly, launches up the ramp and into Rowan’s arms.

A very confused Nautolan child blinks up at him, as he looks down in equal confusion. “Hang on,” the boy says, squinting at him. “You aren’t Rogue.”

“Not the last time I checked,” he answers, setting him down. “I’m Rowan.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” the child says dryly, and turns to Doriana. “I’m so telling dad you picked up more strays!”

“Oi. Be nice, twerp.” Dreu flicks the back of his head in passing, on her way down the ramp.

“Damyan! They aren’t strays,” Doriana crosses her arms, sounding almost indignant about it. “They’re….refugees.”

“They?” Damyan blinks and whistles slowly as the others file into the room, and past him down the ramp - Charm, Switch, Cat, Crow. “Dori, you got some explainin’ to do.”

“Why do you assume it was me?”

Damyan grins; like his two sisters, his teeth are very sharp. Rowan decides it must be an Asfaloth thing. The nautolan boy looks between Rowan and Doriana several times. 

“Might’ve been someone else to start with,” he says, mimicking his sister as he crosses his arms. “But now? It’s on you.”

“Ay je mai,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “You are such a pain. Go tell dad we’re home, yeah? I’ve got things to do.”

“Sure,” Damyan says easily, putting his hands in his pockets. Then he winks at Rowan. “See you ‘round, Things.”

Rowan’s entire face goes red; he swallows, trying to speak, but finds that words have deserted him for once.

“Damyan!” she snaps, as the boy takes off down the ramp howling with laughter.

………

“Where’s my girls?”

The voice is shouted from within the garage that’s perched precariously above a cliff that looks out over iron-red water that reflects the green sky above. Switch can smell the tang of rust and salt from up here, and it’s a pretty damn far jump.

Kriff, this planet is beautiful. Ok, yeah, maybe it’s not Alderaan or Raydonia. But there’s a sharpness to this place, a devil-may-care wildness that reminds Switch very much of the sisters who rescued them. The sea, far below, is vast and green, stretching to the horizon.

Shaking his head, he draws his attention away from the view (one he’d love to paint some time) and to the twi'lek who’s striding purposefully over the grass with his arms outstretched and a wide grin.

Switch has never had a father, or anything like one (except maybe Rowan, but he’s really more a brother). But if he had to come up with an image of a father, it’d be pretty damn close to this guy. He’s older – Switch can’t tell how old exactly, but older – with a bit of a gut, and strong arms, and kind eyes lined with faint smile lines. His overalls, hands, even his face are covered with smudges of black grease, and the rag that’s hanging from his pocket is so blackened it has no business cleaning anything.

He’s shorter than Doriana, much shorter than Ligara, who looks just about as happy as he’s ever seen a Kaminoan be. He’s speaking lothic, rapid and fiery, and the words are flying faster than Switch can follow, but the two sisters – and Ligara – have all been hugged at least twice and kissed several times.

Alone of the brothers here, Rogue seems relaxed and comfortable as he goes to shake the twi'lek’s hand.

“Great to see you again, Draake,” he grins, and then makes a strangled sound as Draake just about crushes his rib cage in a hug. “Air,” he gasps. “Need – air!”

Laughing heartily, Draake lets go and takes in the rest of the clones with a questioning look to his daughters.

“Friends of yours, Hummingbird?” he asks, and Dreu snorts and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“Sir,” Rowan says, nodding to Draake as respectfully as he would to any Jedi general. “My brothers and I were left behind after a battle, and would be dead if not for the courage of your children. You have our gratitude.”

“Dead?” he echoes, narrowing his eyes. He looks them all over again, each one of them, but his eyes linger on Rowan and how close he’s standing to Doriana.

This guy misses nothing, Switch thinks, chewing on his lip.

“Come inside,” Draake says finally. “Dreu, your guests look starving. What have you been doing?”

“Don’t ask me,” she says with a sly look at her sister. “Our cook was distracted.”

“So were the pilot and medic,” Doriana shoots back, grinning.

Rowan loves his squad but they can be a handful

Draw your squad memes are helpful for inspiration

@floa12 @silversong79

(This has taken me absolute AGES and I sincerely apologize to @wiccanbat and anyone else who reads these!)

Rogue settles down on the floor next to the med-cot Ligara has insisted Cat sit on while he eats. Pretty much everyone has a bowl of Doriana’s soup - which she fussed over and has repeatedly apologized for not being at its full potential. Rouge takes a spoonful and sips it thoughtfully. It’s not any different from her normal soup but well, who’s he to judge? 

 "Holy kriff!!!!” Cat exclaims. His eyes are wide with shocked delight. “What is in this?!”

Doriana blinks slowly. “Uh….food?”

Cat doesn’t answer - he’s too busy draining the rest of his bowl, broth spilling out the sides to drip down his chin. 

“Cat,” Rowan scolds. “Eat politely, we’re guests here.”

Cat sets down the bowl, and his grin is just as unrepentant as Rogue remembers. “Sorry, Ro. But it’s good.”

“Ah, give the kid a break,” Charm says, leaning on the doorpost with his arms crossed. His expression is soft, more happy than Rogue’s ever seen him. “He’s not eaten for days, Rowan.”

“Days?” Cat echoes, tilting his head. “What’s - where are we anyway?” 

“Hyperspace, currently,” Doriana says. “For now, we’re headed home.”

Cat’s face goes pale. “Home…not -”

“No,” Ligara says gently. “Not there. Trust me, Cat, I have no desire to see the Planet of Storms again.”

His shoulders slump down with relief. Rogue remembers, years ago, the way Cat had winked at him as he left the bunks that night with Mouse, so jaunty and unafraid. Part of him wonders what happened to make the kid so….fragile. But the rest doesn’t want to ask. 

“So…Coruscant?” 

Rogue barks out a laugh. “If I wanted to be beaten for deserting and dragged back into the GAR with one leg, there are ways to do it that waste less fuel. Coruscant is far, far away.”  

Cat looks down sharply at him, wearing a strange, sad little smile. “Alright, Witcher,” he says, “Where are we going then?”

Although he flinches at his old name, it doesn’t hurt like it would with anyone else. He hadn’t known Cat long, but losing the kid had shocked all them, and….if he had to lose the rest of Topple Squad, it’s only fair that the universe pay him back with this.

“Asfaloth,” Doriana speaks up. The way her voice curls around the name leaves it clear to everyone that she’s speaking of a place she loves. “Home.”

Rowan hasn’t looked away from her yet. He thinks he’s being subtle….he’s not. “How far is it?” he asks.

“Not sure.” She shrugs. “Ask Dreu if you want specifics.”

Rogue looks up at Cat - the whisker tattoos on his face and the healing bruises over his ribs. It’s almost like looking right into his own past. And he decides that this is fair payment.

…………..

Someone is screaming. 

Everything around Doriana spins wildly, flames reaching high to lick at the air. Breath rasping hot in her throat, she searches desperately for a way out. Where’s the frelling door? She stumbles forward, and in her panic almost misses the Togruta woman hunched over on the wooden floor. Her montrals are singed grey by the smoke. Doriana crouches down to the woman.

“Hey! Come on, get up! We have to go now.” She tugs on the woman’s arm. With a mighty groan, a huge wooden beam crashes down toward them. Doriana screams and pulls the woman out of the way, shielding her from the shower of sparks that rise. 

Her throat stinging with smoke, Doriana peers upward through the new hole in the roof, unspeakable dread in the pit of her stomach. The roof is going to fall in. It’s going to fall.

“Ma’am, please! We have to get out!” She shakes the other woman’s shoulders, trying to pull her to her feet. 

She finally responds - but not the way Doriana wanted. The woman jerks up and grabs Doriana’s arms with an iron grip, pulling her down toward the floor where the smoke is thickest. Flipping her onto the ground, the older woman pins her against the hot floor. Doriana looks up at her captor - and a scream of horror rips from her throat.

Her dead mother holds her down, her once bright blue eyes now solid black like voids. “Stay, Dori,” Elessa croons, her sharp nails digging into Doriana’s skin. “Stay, my little nightingale.”

Elessa reaches up a hand, ruined by the fire, to stroke Doriana’s cheek. She jerks away and -

Sits up in her bunk, gasping and panting. Around her, the ship’s engines hum - a calming, familiar sound. Soft breathing fills the room.

A dream. It was just a dream. She pulls at the end of her lekku nervously. Beside her, doubling up on bunks to make room for their guests, Rogue stirs and sits up slightly.

“Dori….?”

“Nothing,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself as she sits up. “Go back to sleep, Rogue, it’s nothing.” She doesn’t need him worrying about her. She runs a hand through his hair before standing and picking her way through the maze of sleeping clones to the ‘fresher.

The door hisses softly open and she leans tiredly on the sink. Her own eyes, deeper and darker blue than Elessa’s had ever been, stared back at her.

“Ay je mai,” she mumbles, scrubbing a hand down her face. “I look like shit.” She shivers slightly; a sheen of sweat coats her maroon skin, cooling her. 

Why that dream, why now? 

She huffs. It doesn’t matter. After splashing the coldest water she can stand on her face, she shuts the light off, tiptoes through the sleeping bodies again, and settles back down beside rogue, determined to sleep.

……….

On any other day, it would’ve been nothing. A small squabble, really, easily soothed. Just Rogue and Ligara snapping at one another again. 

But today? After what happened last night? Doriana finds it increasingly hard to be the only reasonable one on this bloody ship.

And so, with the fight smoothed over, she stalks through the corridors of the ship with single-minded determination. The clanking hiss of the old doors to the engine room suits her mood - rusted, frayed, nearly broken.

For frell’s sake, Dori, she scolds herself. Get it together already, and stop being so dramatic.

Dreu’s not here now, which suits Doriana just fine. Sure, the engine room can be…unsettling. It’s half-lit since most of the lights need replacing, full of strange sounds and stranger shadows. But nobody comes here, except Dreu when she has the time. And so finally, Doriana is alone. 

Skirts swishing as she steps in and closes the door, Doriana finds a hidden place and slides to the ground, gritting her teeth.

She will not cry. Crying is just not a thing Doriana does. But to her horror, her eyes are stinging and her throat feels thick and her face is crumpling and -

Ah, frell it all, she’s crying. She swallows and curls up against the engine, perching her arms on her knees and letting the tears fall and blur her vision. “It’s just an argument,” she hisses to herself. “What is wrong with me?”

Fresh tears fall; she bites her hand to keep from crying out with the sobs that shake her body. She must not be found. Things will just unravel if they know she’s crying. Dreu is the angry one, Ligara is too calm sometimes and patronizing at others, Rogue is skittish and likely to react by snarling, even if he doesn’t mean it. If Doriana isn’t their steady rock, the voice of reason…

Oh, goddess. She’s still crying. Why can’t she stop? As she squeezes her eyes shut a nightmare visage flashes behind her eyelids: her mother’s face, badly burned with blacked-out eye sockets, gnarled hands reaching for her. 

Doriana’s eyes fly open, and she gasps out loud - a sound, even to her, sharp with pain.

Then - a new sound. A rusty creak, a hiss. Light pours across the floor, falling on her feet as steady footsteps come closer. A deep, gentle voice, soothing and promising peace, speaks.

“Doriana?”

…….

She lets out another sharp gasp, scrambling away from Rowan to hide her face, and his heart twists with pain. He crouches down beside her. 

“Forgive me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but….are you alright?”

“Fine,” she says, her back to him. Her voice wobbles when she speaks. “I’m fine, Rowan, it’s okay. You can go.”

Not bloody likely, he thinks. “Doriana,” he says. He loves the way her name sounds in his mouth, like a prayer almost. “You’re not alright, are you?”

Her shoulders tremble, but when he puts a hand on one she flinches away. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, really.”

“I’m not fine.” Her voice is flat. “I’m breaking and nobody sees.”

Again, the sliver of glass in Rowan’s heart twists painfully. “I see you,” he whispers. “I saw. I’m here.”

She sniffs and looks at him, face soaked with tears. Her blue eyes are glittering, and even now, Rowan can’t help noticing her loveliness. “Rowan,” she says. “You’re a good man, from what I’ve seen, and I mean this in the best way, but…I barely know you.”

He swallows the hurt in his throat - it’s entirely unwarranted and probably unwanted. “Fair point,” he admits. “But I don’t need to know you to care. To see how you’re in pain….is it not my purpose to end suffering? In the Republic, the galaxy at large - nobody said I can’t do it on a smaller scale.”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re almost too good, Rowan. I don’t deserve anything like that.”

“What?” He leans forward. “No…no, of course you do. You -”

“I’m not worth your concern.” She bites the words out of the air. “Trust me, Rowan, you’ll want to back off before you get too close.”

“But I don’t,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to back off…..” He’s silent for a bit, considering the Togruta woman before him. “Tell me, mesh’la solus, what have you done to deserve such pain?”

“Too much,” she mutters, drawing her knees up to her chest. “You don’t even want to know. Just trust me, I deserve this.”

“No,” he says again. “No, I can’t believe that. Living beings, all of us - we have the gift of free will, and all we have to do to deserve redemption is ask for it.”

“I wish that were true.” She turns to face him, eyes bright with some inner fire. “I’m not just a con artist, Rowan - I’m no Jedi, but I can sense more of the universe than most. And she is not pleased with a woman who tore out a man’s eye in a fit out jealous rage.”

Rowan takes in answer for a minute. “Hokair?” he asks, thinking of the pirate’s eye patch. She nods miserably, and it takes everything he has not to take her in his arms and hold her to his chest right then. Like she said, she barely knows him. Careful, Rowan, he scolds himself. Must you do this? Must you throw your heart at the feet of the first woman who glances your way?

Doriana’s lower lip trembles; she hides her face as fresh tears fall. “Rowan, leave me,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve your pity.”

It seems to Rowan then that his heart whispers back to him: Yes. I must.

“Deserve?” he murmurs, and cautiously lays a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move away this time. “Cyare, people don’t deserve things like that. Pity. Love. Forgiveness.” His hand massages her shoulder, her skin cool under his hand, and he hopes she doesn’t notice the affectionate Mando’a terms he’s calling her. “We don’t deserve these things, any of us,” he continues. “People, well, we’re a messy lot. Restless, greedy, selfish at times. We can be petty and angry and violent. Deserve? No. We don’t deserve things like that. But it is ours to accept what is given and try to deserve it.”

She lets out a sound, half-laugh, half sob. “You are wiser than you look, Rowan.”

“Do I look stupid then?” he cracks a grin and winks at her, and is rewarded with a watery smile in return. “It may not be mine to forgive you for that act - but if it were, if it were my eye - I would. I would forgive you.”

She rolls her eyes and wipes her cheeks dry. “You would, wouldn’t you? Like I said. Too good for me.”

“Wouldn’t that be my call?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re impossible.”

“Indeed.” He stands, one fluid movement, and offers her his hand. “Come, Doriana. No matter what you’ve done, nobody deserves to weep alone beneath an engine.”

She takes his hand, and stands up without taking her eyes from his. She still looks shaken, rather fragile for a woman with such lethal teeth. On a sudden impulse, he draws her into him, wrapping his arms around her and laying her head on his chest.

“I don’t care what the universe says,” he whispers fiercely. “You deserve to be be happy.”

She doesn’t answer for a minute, but sniffs and wipes her eyes. “You’re a remarkable man, Rowan. There’s more to you than I’d realized.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Mhm.” Her lips twist up in a smirk, and she looks him up and down with deliberate slowness. “Maybe a lot more than I realized.

Cheeks burning at the suggestion behind her statement, he smiles reluctantly and takes her by the hand. “Come,” he says again. “The others will suspect something if we keep this up.”

“Let them,” she says boldly. But she follows him out into the corridor anyway.

“Oi. You two.” Dreu’s voice calls from down the corridor. She strides toward them, a lug wrench the length of her arm in one hand. “We’re almost home, Dori. Might want to keep apart from this one -” she jerks her head toward Rowan - “When we go meet Dad. You know how he is.”

Rowan tilted his head, confused. “Why should she…oh. Oh, no, it isn’t - we aren’t - that is, we - I…”

“Whatever,” Dreu says amiably, heading for her beloved engines. “Just stay out of trouble, yeah? And try not to fall off the cliffs.”

Doriana muttered something under her breath in a foreign language - quick, sly, and (from the Twi’lek’s outraged gasp) directed at Dreu.

(Idk if anyone is reading this still, but here’s the next part! @wiccanbat)

Every single instinct Rowan has is firing, making his jaws clench tight and his muscles tense. Protect your brothers, he hears with each heartbeat. Protect. Protect. Protect. His vision sharpens, and he glares at the weequayan, readying himself to fight. The zabrak and mirilian that stand behind him - they’re fighters, to be sure, but the weequayan is the threat. No filthy pirate is getting near Cat or the others. Doriana, however, seems to have other ideas.

 "Hokair,“ she snarls, stepping out from behind Rowan, and the leonine grace with which she moves reminds him that Togruta are descended from predators.

 "Ah!” Hokair says, smiling expansively. “Still as beautiful as when you left me alone with a broken heart, my lovely Doriana.”

 "I’m not your anything.“ The words that fall from her tongue are short, clipped and brutal. Hokair keeps his smile, however. Rowan’s gaze shifts between them incredulously. This pirate? With her? He shakes his head. It’s unthinkable. She can do so much better.

 "The engagement ring I got you once said otherwise." 

 Doriana’s having none of that, though. "Was that before or after you cheated on me?” She bares her sharp Togruta fangs at the pirate.

Hokair puts a hand over his chest and backs up a step. “How you wound me! My heart was still yours!”

“Hah!” Her laugh sounds more like a bark. “That’s bullshit, Hokair. What the kriffing hell do you want?”

“Your spices….and you, if I can sway it.” Hokair leers at Doriana.

She hisses through her teeth, dark blue eyes narrowing.  "I told you if I ever saw your face again I’d kill you.“ 

"You don’t have a blaster darling.” Hokair smirks and examines his filthy fingernails.

“Oh, you think that’s gonna stop me? That’s cute.” The two have started to circle each other, both ready to pounce. That’s it. Rowan decides it’s time for him to step in - literally. He moves to stand between the two, raising a placating hand to Doriana. 

“Gentlemen,” he says to the pirates. “Can this not be resolved peacefully?”

“Like frell it can,” Doriana spits. “Get this scum off my ship, Rowan.”

Hokair looks him up and down contemptuously. “This is what you replace me with, Doriana? This overgrown lab rat?”

Anger sparks in Rowan’s gut; he clenches his fists. Stay calm. “I’m not her -”

The pirate cuts him off with a rude snort of laughter. “Right. Sure you’re not, gene scraping. Why else would she keep you around?”

Rowan’s jaw clenches. He takes a step forward; just that is enough to make the pirate back up a bit. Good. 

“Have a care,” he says, soft and menacing. Rowan is careful with his anger - more careful than the Jedi are with their lightsabers. He shouldn’t need much for this, but he lets just a hint of a growl color his voice.

“I’ll let that first slight pass - as a courtesy, for the lady. You insult my honor, and that of my brothers. It better not happen again.”

Hokair throws his head back and laughs, slapping his knee. “Get a load of this fancy-talking clone!” he howls. “Where’d you learn that, clone? Can you do any more tricks?”

Rowan growls, low and deep in his chest. “Enough, scum! Leave this ship now, in peace, or leave it later in pieces.”

Behind his back Rowan hears soft gasps and a high-five - probably between Cat and Switch. He’s going to have to speak with them about that later. But for now, he keeps his eyes locked on the pirate, who’s now grinning at him. 

“Bold words for a clone with a wounded brother to protect,” Hokair says, peering over his shoulder at Cat. Rowan risks a quick glance back; Cat still looks weak and shaky, but getting stronger. Still, he’s not even wearing his undershirt, and nobody looks their strongest without a shirt. Suddenly all the anger in Rowan’s gut, formerly hot and bright, freezes to cold, sharp purpose. His jaws clench as he takes a slow step forward.

“Big mistake,” he snarls. “I can forgive your slight to me, and for her sake, I stood aside when you insulted Doriana. But no one -” he takes another threatening step forward, lips drawing back over his teeth, voice rising to a roar - “nobody threatens my brothers in front of me! GET OUT!” 

The pirates, all three, scramble backwards away from Rowan in a panic. He doesn’t stop. Keeps coming toward them. “Leave!” he shouts. “Leave while you still draw breath, scum!”

The Zabrak growls, but Hokair grabs his tunic as he backs away. “Leave it, Sadru,” he grumbles. “We know when we’re not wanted.”

“OI!” From down the hall there’s an angry shout, and the sound of a blaster cocking. And suddenly the pirates are even more keen to leave, stumbling in their haste to get to the airlock. 

Lekku swinging behind her, Dreu bares her teeth and points her blaster at them. “Didn’t I tell you never to bother my sister again, you kriffing slime? Get the frell off my ship before I get really angry.”

“Of course, of course!” Hokair lifts his hands defensively above his face, backing all the while toward the docking ring and the entrance to their craft. “Captain Aurren sends her regards, Dreu. She says to tell you it’s your move.”

“Yeah?” Dreu narrows her eyes, blaster still cocked. “Well, you tell that Chiss that her ‘move’ failed epically, and she better hope we don’t retaliate.”

With a sardonic twist of his lips, Hokair salutes her and steps back into his ship. The airlock swirls closed.

All of a sudden Rowan is exhausted. He huffs out a breath and stumbles back against the wall, massaging his aching temples. Why do I do these things? he wonders tiredly.

He feels a hand laid gently on his forearm; he looks up. “Rowan?” Doriana’s voice is laced with concern, her night-blue eyes wide. Rowan manages a smile.

“I’m alright,” he says, standing back to attention. There’s no need, but it feels natural. “Forgive the outburst, if you will.”

Dreu, satisfied that her domain is hers again, wanders back to the bridge with a proud little smile. Doriana is still giving him a very skeptical look, and her hand, he noticed, hasn’t left his arm. It feels good. He doesn’t want her to move it.

“That was incredible,” she says in a low voice. “You were like - I don’t know. I was even a little afraid of you.”

Rowan winces. She was afraid of him? The thought feels like a sliver of glass in his heart. “Please forgive me,” he says, “I just - he threatened Cat, and you, and I-”

“Rowan,” she interrupts with just a trace of sternness. His mind can’t help repeating the lovelieness of his name on her tongue. “Rowan, stop. You were wonderful.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head. “I was?”

The corner of Doriana’s lip lifts in a smirk. “Hokair had it coming, the ass. And besides, I don’t scare so easy.”

He smiles faintly, trying to ignore his sudden desire to stroke her cheek. “Aye. That you don’t.” He’s quiet for a minute, and then meets her eyes and says, “I just don’t like getting that angry. Look at me - I must be in control, or innocents could be hurt.”

She says nothing, staring fearlessly into his eyes. He’s mesmerized by hers - luminous, dark and deep and at the same time, full of light. He’s starting to believe she can see his future. “You’re a good man, Rowan. Your anger won’t change that.”

I think I love you, he thinks. He doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need a clone hanging on her arm. He dips his head to hide the heat of his face. “Thank you, Doriana.”

She grins, showing sharp teeth. “All I did was speak the truth, Ro.” 

The nickname sends a thrill through his stomach, and -

“Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggh!”

Rowan’s head snaps up at the bone-chilling screech frombehind him. He turns on his heel the back wall. Cat is curled in a corner, cowering against the wall with his arms raised defensively. His little brother, insensible with fear. Rowan rushes to him and wraps the smaller clone in a hug, stroking his hair.

“It’s alright, Cat,” he murmurs. “You’re safe, brother, I promise. You’re safe.”

Cat’s breath is rapid, and the Kaminoan Ligara steps closer anxiously. “Careful,” she tells him. “You’ll tear the stitches again!”

“Please,” Cat whimpers, clutching Rowan’s arms. “Don’t let her see me, I can’t go back -”

“She’s a friend,” he says quietly. “A doctor. We’re nowhere near Kamino, I promise.”

Slowly Cat’s grip on his arm relaxes, and his shuddered breathing evens out. He looks at Ligara suspiciously.

“A friend?” His voice is hoarse from screaming. 

Ligara nods gracefully. “I hope so, Cat.”

“You - you know my name?”

She gives a faint smile. “Your brothers worry.”

Cat stands up, slowly, still shaking. “I - I’m sorry,” he says. 

And the next phrase that comes out of his mouth is classically Cat, bringing a welcome grin to Rowan’s face. 

The story continues! @wiccanbat hope you like it, and sorry it took me so long! ^-^

The tiny galley smells amazing already; Doriana smiles to herself as she brings a ladleful of soup to her mouth to test it. Then there’s a beep; she pauses. The soup steams in front of her, tantalizing, but she answers the comm. Something feels important about it.

“Doriana!” Rogue’s voice is panting and rushed. “Med-bay now. And bring Rowan." 

She blinks and scoffs. How rude. "Rogue what the frell are you going on about -”

“Cat woke up." 

Doriana almost drops the ladle and barely manages to catch it by the handle. The soup spills out onto the floor. Rowan blinks at her curiously, tilting his head sideways. She doesn’t have the time to notice how cute he is, though. Is it going to hurt him when she tells him? Will he be afraid?

“Cat’s awake,” she says in a rush, and barely has time to notice his eyes widen before she sets the ladle down and strides out the door in a wild flurry of skirts. Rowan, she sees, is barely two steps behind her.

They’re tearing through the halls, barely stopping to open doors. Crow narrowly avoids a head on collision with Doriana, stepping aside to let her run past. 

 "What the-?!” He starts to yell after her but falls silent when Rowan grabs his arm, breathing hard. Doriana can feel the pulse of excitement from him, sees the glitter in his eye as he looks at Crow.

“Cat.” That’s all he has to say, and Crow is running with them, too.

 ….. 

The bed-bay door hisses open quickly - but to Doriana, and to the clones waiting on the other side, it feels endless, agonizing. She strides through, raking the whole room in her gaze before locking her eyes on Rogue.

 "Where the frell is Ligara?” she asks.

“Bed.” Rogue swallows, looking over at Cat again. He can’t seem to look away.

“What?!” Doriana throws her hands in the air. Ligara can’t be asleep! What if something goes wrong? They need a Kaminoan!

 "She was about to pass out,” Rogue says, defensive. “I had to.”

“Ay je mai,” Doriana groans. Looks like it’s up to her. She leans over Cat, stomach knotting at what she might see.

 His eyes are glossy like he’s still trying to focus them, and his skin is coated with a pale sheen of sweat. His gaze shifts up to Doriana, and lock on her with something almost like recognition.

“General Shaak Ti-?” His voice is heart heartbreakingly weak; he raises a trembling hand to her face. “Y-you have to help me-” Doriana takes the misunderstanding with stride, holding his hand in hers.

 "Shhh,” she murmurs, stroking his hair back. “You’ll be okay, Cat. I’m not Shaak Ti and I don’t know who that is, but I promise I’ll help, alright? I just need you to stay calm and lay still. Rowan, get in his line of sight?“

 "Rowan’s here?” Cat breathes, straining sideways to find him. 

“Right next to you, Cat.” Rowan gently squeezes Cat’s wrist. The younger clone nods, but then his eyes widen, his body tensing up again.

“T-the Kaminoans-” he says, and Doriana feels the stab of fear in his heart at the thought of Ligara. Oh dear, that’s not good at all, she thinks.

“She’s not here, Cat,” Doriana soothes. “She left. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? And Rowan is gonna be next to us the whole time.”

He sighs, face going slack as he relaxes. “Don’t leave, Ro,” he mutters. “Don’t leave me alone.”

His other brothers crowd forward, murmuring and clamoring to reassure their - what was the word Rowan used? - shiny little brother. She hisses a breath out through her sharp teeth. Alright. Time to use my sister voice.

“That’s enough!” she barks, and every single clone - except Rogue, that is - freezes completely still. Doriana sets one hand on her hip and point a stern finger at them. “Line up,” she orders. “Against the wall. Not a word until I can determine if this boy is healthy enough to be awake.”

They move like the soldiers they are, in unison and perfectly drilled. An awed chorus of “Yes, sir” brings a satisfied smile to Doriana’s lips.

Rogue, however, is staring at his brothers with his arms crossed. He’s been around her too long to be impressed by her scary voice, and his amusement shows in the wry twist of his mouth.

“Seriously, guys?” he asks. “You’re listening to her?”

“Frell off, Rogue,” she mumbles absently, examining Cat’s stitches. They’re healing well, and she can’t see any head trauma, so whatever’s going on must be from flashbacks. Even as she’s finishing her examination, he sits up, shaking his head with a grunt.

“What happened?” he asks groggily, looking around. “And where are we?”

“Beam fell on you, Cat,” Rowan says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The cruiser exploded. We escaped in a pod - and these lovely ladies rescued us.”

Doriana can’t help grinning at being called a ‘lovely lady.’ That description might fit her at a stretch, but if Dreu heard anyone call her that they’d receive a swift kick in the pants. At least.

Cat blinks, shielding his eyes against the bright lights. “Are we…you know, safe here? Does General Skywalker know where we are?”

There it is again - the uncomfortable problem. Are they ever going to get these soldiers home? 

Should they, with the war that’s going on?

Doriana shakes her head. That’s not a problem for now - for now, she can answer his question. “You’re quite safe here, Cat,” she says. “So are your brothers. Well, unless pirates decide to raid our spice supplies, but that’s rare in this sector.”

He still seems groggy, looking down and feeling the edge of his stitches. “I had…such awful dreams,” he murmurs. “Faces, and voices…I was so cold…”

Apparently that’s all Rowan can take, because he takes one step forward to wrap his little brother in his arms. Over Cat’s shoulder, she can see the glint of tears on his lashes. “Oh, brother,” he says. “You’re safe. We’ve worried so.”

“R-Rowan,” he says, shivering. “Where are the others? Crow? Switch? Charm? Did they…did they make it?”

“We’re here,” Switch says, breaking Doriana’s ‘no talking’ rule. “We’re fine, Cat, really.”

“Cat,” Rogue bursts out suddenly, and the boy’s head whips around to face him. He squints, looking him up and down from his droid leg to his grown-out hair. His eyes widen. “Are you - Witcher? Is that you?”

Alright, Doriana’s dealt with a heck of a lot lately, especially since the clones came on board. But she is not expecting Rogue to rush forward and hug Cat much the way Rowan’s just finished doing.

“You’re alive?” seems to be the main question, though there are several garbled ones flying back and forth in a rapid-fire dialog she can’t follow. Finally, with one hand on Rogue’s shoulder, he turns to his squad mates with a tearful smile. 

“This…this is my batch brother,” he sniffs. “I thought he was dead.”

There’s stunned silence for a minute, and then everyone’s clamoring to hug Rogue and Cat and celebrate. She’s never seen so many people in one hug at once and it’s quite possibly the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

Not counting Rowan’s butt, of course.

She leans back on her heels and watches them with a fond smile. All she can feel in this room right now is affection and relief and joy. It’s quite a soothing contrast to the pinched worry of the past few days.

That’s when the ship jolts under their feet, throwing several of them to the floor. Metal groans; Doriana catches a flash of anger and fear from Dreu on the bridge. Ligara’s still asleep, lucky for her. Doriana shuts her eyes and concentrates. What’s going on?

They don’t have long to wait, as Rowan grabs her arm and pushes her into the throng of brothers at his back, hands spread protectively behind him. The door slides open.