#*breaks out the hallikset*

[ameliaashdale]

It's been so long, and my path has been so dark...

But I have wandered the line between light and dark before; my connection to the light has survived then, and it shall survive this. The obstacles in the way have become the way. As the Jedi Code teaches us:

There is no emotion. There is peace.

There is no ignorance. There is knowledge

There is no passion. There is serenity.

There is no chaos. There is harmony.

There is no death. There is The Force.

Trust only in the Force. For Light and Life, In the name is of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, May the Fourth ever serve you.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is for @cityofperpeptualgloom "I'm here."

“Cere.”

She looks up from her book (a detailed history of the hallikset and music theory she started reading during the war and never had a chance to finish) and sees Merrin staring down at her, worry clouding her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Merrin shakes her head. “It’s Cal. In the ruins. I don’t… He won’t speak but… I think he needs you.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Not physically.”

“An echo,” Cere surmises.

Merrin nods. “He won’t tell me what it is.”

“Leave it to me. And tell Greez he might want to clear out the engine room for a while, just in case.”

“He will immediately begin baking Cal those spice cakes he likes,” Merrin says as she heads in Greez’s direction.

Cere leaves the datapad on the table and heads outside into a beautiful, sunny day. The temperature is just right, the air alive with the freshly blooming flowers, sharped by sea salt. The old Jedi temple they came to explore is right on the beach. It’s so idyllic, Cere can’t believe the Empire hasn’t set up a retreat here for the higher ups. She imagines their absence is only because they’re too far from popular shipping lanes, and there are no military benefits to the location.

Not yet anyway.

The Force guides her to Cal no matter how intently he shields. Once a Seeker, always a Seeker. His aura, shrouded though it is, simmers with white hot pain. Worry spiking, Cere picks up the pace and finds Cal deep inside the temple, beyond winding halls of meditation chambers, bedrooms, refectories, even an empty library, in an oculus hall, bathed in the sunlight pouring through the open ceiling. BD looks up at him, slumped and sorry. He sees Cere and hurries over to her, feet tip tapping over the marble floor. He clambers onto her back, beeping quietly. She gives the little droid a pat on the head. She’s here, she’ll help. The oculus hall is huge. Once, it would have housed Jedi seeking peace and wisdom. Now, the painstaking marble carvings hopelessly stained, the chamber home to countless bird species.

Birds, and a small pile Jedi robes at Cal’s feet, weathered beyond use.

“Merrin sent you.”

“She did. She’s worried about you.” And so is Cere. Cal won’t even turn to look at her.

“Children,” Cal tells her from where he stands over the pile. His voice strains, thick with tears. “Left here, long ago. Not because of the purge. There was a disaster on a nearby world. The masters went to help, left their children behind, thinking they would be back within a day or two. They never returned. And these children, left alone, starved. They didn’t know what to do, didn’t understand why they were abandoned here.” He presses both hands to his head, hair spilling over pale fingers. “Everything I touch, all I ever see is misery and suffering. I’m so sick of it.” His head tilts back, tear-stained cheeks catching the sunlight. “Why is the galaxy so full of pain? Why can’t I stop it?”

BD hops down from Cere’s back and rushes to Cal, waiting for him to crouch down. Cal doesn’t so much crouch as collapse, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” Cere says. She’d suggested they check this world out not only for the Jedi heritage to be found here, but also to give them all a break. She knows he’s worked on his psychometry, found ways of managing it, and yet the fact remains that the past hurts. Crouching beside him, she places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here.”

To her surprise, he falls against her. She wraps her arms around him, feels his body trembling with his tears. He’s not shielding her from it now. It buffets her, and it's only thanks to her own shields that she doesn’t crumple along with him.

She waits for him to cry it out. BD hops on to Cal’s back and presses against him, a tiny droid hug. Slowly, steadily, Cal calms.

“Release the memory,” Cere says. “Let it go now.”

“For once, I wish… I want…” But whatever it is he wants, Cal doesn’t say. Instead, he does something he’s getting frighteningly good at – packing up his feelings and putting them away, out of sight and unreachable. He pulls back, wipes a hand over his face, and musters up a faint smile. “Thanks, Cere. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“No need to be sorry,” she says, standing and holding out a hand. He takes it, letting her help him to his feet. “You’re allowed to worry me.”

His smile is a little brighter. “Did you hear that, BD? I got permission to worry Cere.”

BD whoops.

“Permission can be revoked, you know,” Cere says, nudging Cal.

[isabelleashmore]

Invisible Moonlight: Padmé Amidala/Sabé for @star-wars-wlweek

Padmé winged easily through the steps, whisking Sabé along with her, and for a moment, they were waltzing in their nightgowns through the ballroom of Theed Palace, Sabé’s touch electric at the small of her back. It was only on her planet that petticoats and ballgowns, stiff and unforgiving on the bodies of Imperials, turned beautiful, their hems flaring vibrantly over the floor with their soft, silken sighs.

It was only in Sabé’s arms, dancing through her memories of Naboo, that Padmé became weightless.

(Or, Padmé and Sabé have a romantic night to themselves following the rise of the Empire.)

Rating: Teen

@star-wars-wlweek

Read here or on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33233989

Invisible Moonlight

“Were you surprised?”

Sabé whispered the question as if they were kids at a sleepover, scared to be caught out of bed after lights-out. They essentially were, Padmé reflected, only this time, it was being caught in bed that would get them in trouble. She tried and failed to banish that image from her mind: palace guards breaking down the door to her and Sabé’s hidden bedroom, finding them tangled up in the sheets and in each other. A humiliating arrest, after which they would be hauled to the throne room and tossed at the feet of a furious Emperor Vader. He’d throw his jealous little tantrum right then and there, which would subside only after he’d locked away his wife and executed her lover, all without ever addressing the women who frequented his room each night. The sparks of resistance that she and Sabé had so painstakingly kindled would be snuffed out; Luke and Leia—well, thank the gods that they were Anakin’s, too, because envisioning her children at risk, especially as a byproduct of her own actions, squeezed the air from Padmé’s lungs faster than if she’d been chucked off a skyscraper—

Sabé curled an arm around her waist, breaking her free from her ruminations. Padmé’s lips twitched into a fragile smile. Sabé’s every touch felt like a lullaby, like a murmured, “I’m here.” They had taken all the necessary precautions, she reminded herself: Dormé was covering for them and Anakin was spending the night with his own mistress. Not that Padmé thought of Sabé as her mistress. If anything, she liked to imagine that she was her girlfriend, and sometimes even indulged in fantasies of one day calling Sabé her wife.

Emboldened by the dream kneaded into that word—wife—Padmé giggled and touched her nose to Sabé’s. “Was I surprised by what?”

“Realizing that you were attracted to me. Were you surprised?” Sabé shimmied coyly out of Padmé’s grasp; her sultry, side-eyed gaze was enough to send tingles down Padmé’s arms. She found herself admiring Sabé’s lip gloss under the muted, golden light, the way it drew attention to the delicate purse of her lips, and thinking about how, whenever she was deep in thought, those lips would fall open just slightly, like a rosebud puckering into bloom…

It took Padmé much too long to focus on the question. She inhaled and blew out a slow stream of air, hoping Sabé hadn’t noticed. “Yes,” she hedged, “and no. I mean, there were some things about us that finally made sense. Like back when we were girls, and I got jealous when Harli Jafan started flirting with you—”

“You did?”

A blush stole into Padmé’s cheeks at Sabé’s unabashed delight. “Why else did you think I was upset about her trying to kiss you? I should have realized it earlier, but everyone around me just assumed I was only into men. Maybe I assumed it, too. Until…”—she met Sabé’s gaze from beneath her eyelashes—“until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Sabé smiled and took Padmé’s hand in hers, absentmindedly tracing the lines of her palm. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you so sure that people had those assumptions in the first place? No offense, but I can’t imagine Theed Palace being thrown into chaos over your sexuality. Yané and Saché were openly a couple, and I was out as bi before I signed on as your handmaiden.”

“It wasn’t that. I’m sure that if I made a point of coming out, everyone would have been supportive, but…” Padmé rested her head on Sabé’s shoulder, pondering how to translate her emotions into words. “My parents and sister were always asking me when I was going to bring home a boy. Maybe I started to believe that that was the ultimate goal, that liking anyone else made me somehow…less than. And then one day, Anakin happened to accompany me to my parents’ house. He was only there as my bodyguard—a Jedi one, at that!—but my whole family leapt to the assumption that he was my boyfriend. Sola and my mother were so happy—relieved, even—and…I don’t know. I told myself that none of it would matter if I could just fall for Anakin, but then I caught myself thinking, how would they have reacted if I’d brought home a girl instead?”

“I know your parents,” Sabé said. “I’m sure they would have been supportive.”

“Oh, they would have, if they had known. But I brought home you and Dormé a few times and they never assumed either one of you was my girlfriend.”

“It’s probably because you’re so feminine,” Sabé said with a hint of bitterness. “No one ever expects feminine women to be into women.”

“No one ever expects women to be into women.”

Sabé’s only response to that was to grip Padmé’s hand a little tighter.

They sat together in silence until Padmé had collected her thoughts. “I think,” she confessed, “that I was most afraid of seeing the shock on their faces. It would have felt too much like letting them down, like turning my back on a dream they’d had for me since childhood. No, more than a dream: an expectation.” She worried her lip. “I don’t know when ‘assumption’ turned into ‘expectation’, but it did, and I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it—not for them, and especially not for myself. I still don’t know of anyone in House Naberrie who isn’t heterosexual, and there was enough tension between my relatives and me as it was, what with some lingering contention over my career choice and my not-entirely-pacifist politics—and then this—!” Padmé didn’t realize she was crying until the tears were flooding down her cheeks. She clapped a hand over her mouth, just in time to muffle the sob that escaped her. “Gods, I wish I had told them—now that Anakin won’t even let me talk to them—”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Sabé stroked Padmé’s hair with her free hand, pausing only to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? We all move at our own pace. I knew pretty young, but if I’d figured it out just a little bit later, I would have had the same insecurities as you. Probably more of them, since in my case they would have been justified.”

“Stop it, Sabé. You know how I feel about you talking yourself down.”

“I know, love.” Sabé raised Padmé’s chin to drop a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. Somehow that still ignited every nerve in Padmé’s body. “For the record, my career path was also hard for my family to accept. Being chosen as your handmaiden was an honour, of course, but my parents were just so hung up on this fantasy of me following in the family tradition, playing hallikset in the back row of some orchestra for the rest of my life.”

Padmé sighed, wiping the last of her tears on the back of her hand. “I think that’s one of the main problems on Naboo. Everyone wants their child to go into the arts, but we still need people who can run the government or fill any of the other thousands of jobs that are necessary to our planet’s survival. My father did support my engagement in politics growing up, but even he still hoped that I would ultimately pursue a career in the arts. Thankfully, once I announced to my parents that I was running for Princess of Theed, they understood that politics were my calling and stopped trying to wrangle me into an artistic pursuit. But before that, they’d tried everything: poetry, original oratory, debate, the like. My mother had desperately wanted me to be a musician, like you, but I wasn’t a standout talent at any particular instrument. At least I took all those years of dance classes—”

“No way, that doesn’t count. Everyone takes dance classes.”

Padmé shoulder-checked Sabé in mock offense. “How dare you dismiss my prodigious dance skills. I’ll have you know, I was recommended to a couple of ballet conservatories thanks to my ‘natural poise and diligence’.”

“Oh, I can believe it. I was watching you dance tonight.” Sabé’s voice had taken on a genuine, if a bit seductive note. She grinned and dropped her lips to Padmé’s ear. “You want to know a secret?”

A thrill shot down Padmé’s spine. “Yes…”

“I was jealous tonight, love. Really jealous, having to watch you dance with him in front of everyone. His hands, just…digging into your waist, as if to lay claim to you or something…” Padmé was horrified to find that the passion in her girlfriend’s voice, so hot and sensual a second ago, had suddenly been zapped dry. “Gods!” Sabé cried, sharpening and spitting the word like it was dirty. “That man is insufferable, I—I hate him!”

Padmé remained silent, rubbing the silk of her nightgown between her fingers. She had thought for a moment that this was going in a different direction, but then somehow Anakin had ruined it without even being here and—no. She refused to let the thought of him spoil her mood. Instead, she took a deep breath and examined the small, windowless bedroom that she and Sabé shared. Already a warm pulse of pride was pushing out the anger in her chest. They may have lost the bulk of their past lives to Anakin, but they had still succeeded in making this one thing their own.

Padmé’s favourite shimmer-silk robe had taken up permanent residence on the back of the desk chair, and Sabé’s hallikset case lay nestled at the foot of their bed. On the walls, they had hung every holophoto they’d rescued from Anakin’s war on the past, regardless of whether said photos were personally relevant to them. Decade-old letters from Padmé’s sister and Sabé’s brothers, penned on real arbovellum paper, were piled lovingly on the vanity; next to them, a meticulous arrangement of eyeshadow palettes and perfume bottles. What really caught her eye, though, was Sabé’s music player, its bulky form squatting somewhat obtrusively in the corner. Sabé had held a strange affection for the battered old thing since Padmé had known her, despite—or perhaps because of—her brothers’ alleged attempts on its “life” over the years.

“Sabé,” she proposed lightly, “how about a dance?”

Sabé followed her gaze to the music player, and her eyes widened in surprise. “What, right here?”

“Why not? We’ve got music and two people who know how to waltz. What more could we need?”

“Hmm…fair point.” Sabé stood up from the bed, her hips swaying just slightly as she approached the music player. Padmé felt a fresh blush heat her cheeks. “I’ve still got this recording my brother gave me a few years ago, from the orchestra he was playing with at the time.”

“Perfect.” Padmé closed her eyes just before the first strains of music wove through the air. When she opened them again, Sabé stood before her like a vision: her hair haloed by a cross-section of candlelight, her hand extended to Padmé with the palm up. “May I have this dance, my lady?” she asked in a manner so formal, they could have been at an actual ball. Padmé giggled like a lovestruck teenager and took Sabé’s hand, pulling her eagerly to the centre of the room. Their nightgowns traced the movement with a cool flutter of silk. “You may,” Padmé whispered belatedly, unable to look anywhere but into Sabé’s eyes.

She could feel the night wrapping them up in moonlight they could not see, driving them closer, closer, closer until her breasts pressed up against Sabé’s, whose open lips hung just a tantalizing breath away. Lost in the glossy expanse of her girlfriend’s pupils, mesmerized by an orchestra’s melancholic cries, Padmé let the past flood the present, transforming the world around her. She was dissolving into another time, a place where thousand-pound chandeliers hovered overhead like they weighed nothing at all, where moonlight came streaming through arches and marble reflected the world at her feet. Padmé winged easily through the steps, whisking Sabé along with her, and for a moment, they were waltzing in their nightgowns through the ballroom of Theed Palace, Sabé’s touch electric at the small of her back. Padmé gasped into the cello’s sonorous vibrato, each pull of the bow a tug-of-war between desolation and desire. It was only on her planet that petticoats and ballgowns, stiff and unforgiving on the bodies of Imperials, turned beautiful, their hems flaring vibrantly over the floor with their soft, silken sighs.

It was only in Sabé’s arms, dancing through her memories of Naboo, that Padmé became weightless.

The bow paused on the string, still trembling, as if on the cusp of climax. Padmé’s eyes fluttered closed and Sabé kissed her, firmly on the mouth and then more passionately, parting Padmé’s lips beneath her own. Padmé clung tighter to the curves of Sabé’s waist, unable to suppress a shiver as the music exploded around them. Sabé’s lip gloss tasted of strawberries, of carefree summers in the open air of the Lake Country. Padmé tugged insistently on her girlfriend’s bottom lip, frenzied by the elusive sweetness of home, and felt Sabé deepen the kiss in response.

Coruscant was a cold planet, in every sense of the word. But Sabé always managed to make it just a little bit warmer. As soon as their lips had parted, Padmé lowered her head to Sabé’s ear. “One day,” she promised, “after all of this is over—the Empire, the Rebellion, everything—I’m going to take you to Varykino. We’ll put ourselves first for once and leave everything behind. No Amidala, no handmaidens…just us. Well…except for maybe one thing.” She laced her fingers through Sabé’s and gently stroked the side of her palm, hoping it would distract from her own quickening heartbeat. “I…I’ve decided that I’d like to raise Luke and Leia with you, Sabé. Assuming…that’s something you would want?”

Sabé’s rosebud lips dropped open in shock. Padmé panicked and nearly jumped in to amend her request—what she would actually say was beside the point—but then Sabé laughed—a full-bodied, dazzling laugh—and breathed, “Padmé…” Her fingers were feather-light on Padmé’s skin as she lifted her face to hers; Padmé was met with the glorious sight of Sabé’s eyes, glistening beneath a thin layer of tears. “I can’t think of anything else I’d want more than to raise children with you. I love you.”

Giddiness overtook Padmé then, a rush like free-falling back into love. The laugh that emerged from her was watery, nowhere near as melodious as Sabé’s, but she didn’t care. “I love you, too,” she replied, and because that still didn’t feel like enough, “I love you, I love you, I love—”

Sabé kissed her again, robbing her lips of the words so that only raw passion remained, and in that moment, in that small, windowless, beautiful room, Padmé’s cares slipped away beneath the invisible moonlight.

[chadillacboseman]

Blowing Off Steam Part IV

Pairing: Axe Woves x GN!Reader

A/N: This is just pure fluff, lol. Mentions of violence and injury.

Word Count: 1.6K

--

Waking up was more painful than it had been in a long time. Your head throbbed with every movement, and the area where the blaster struck you jolted like a lightning strike every time you touched it. You rose, slowly, from your bed and made your way to the bathroom to inspect the damage. A decent bruise was forming, and the cut looked angry, red, and inflamed. You sighed and washed it, gently, with warm water and a fresh towel before changing your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

Light was filtering in through the windows of your living quarters, letting you know that the sun had risen in its entirety. A cup of Spiran caf in your hands helped to ease the pain, if only a little. Your cupboards were fairly bare, but you managed to cobble together an acceptable breakfast to tide you over until you made a trip to the market.

The streets of Trask were busy, brimming with discussions of the Imperial presence from the night before. You kept a low profile as you collected your needs from the market, but the mark on your face attracted more attention than you’d like.

Plenty of prying eyes watched you as you shopped, but it wasn’t until you arrived at a booth stocked with fresh fish that someone spoke to you. It was the mon calamari from the night before, the one who was struck in the head before you. He was sporting a similar wound, and gave you a knowing look as you browsed.

When you presented your credits, he waved your hand away and passed you the fish, “On the house, bock avreet.” You mustered a smile and thanked him before departing.

You finished your shopping and headed home to restock your cupboards. The pain in your head was almost unbearable by the time you finished, and you searched your fresher cabinet for a painkiller to ease it.

You remembered your promise to Axe that you would meet him at the inn and sighed. You felt as though your head was going to explode, but you didn’t exactly shy away from the thought of a cold glass of something full of alcohol. You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of sleep on your eyelids, and decided to have a nap before the night began.

--

The cool night air hit you like a freighter and helped to lessen the pain in your head. The streets were bustling with people returning from the docks, many of them still chattering about the events of the previous night.

The smell of roasting seafood wafted on the salty air from the street market, and the gentle notes of a seven-string hallikset could be heard among the voices of the vendors and shoppers. It was good to know that the Imp presence hadn’t put a dent in the nightlife on Trask; if anything, it seemed that the populace was celebrating a little harder than usual.

The inn was surprisingly quiet compared to the rest of the city; only a few of the regular patrons were seated inside. The human bartender was nowhere to be found, but the mon calamari street vendor spotted you and raised his glass in a silent gesture.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Axe’s low voice vibrated near your ear and you jumped out of surprise.

You turned to find the Mandalorian in the doorway, a soft smile planted on his lips. Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around him. Axe stumbled back in surprise, but quickly returned the gesture, his chin resting on the top of your head. His armor was cold and hard against your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You pulled away and searched for the words to thank him, but they didn’t come to you. All you could do was return his smile. He led you to a small table in the far corner of the inn and signaled the bartender for a drink.

“I believe you might have dropped this the other night,” Axe produced your blaster from under the table and carefully slid it to you.

“Where did you find it?” you slipped it into your bag, taking comfort in its familiar weight.

“Trooper had it on him.” Axe said with a shrug, “Knew it wasn’t his, and I convinced him to tell me where he got it.”

You wondered for a moment what Axe’s idea of convincing was, but decided it was better not to ask. For several minutes the two of you sat in silence and enjoyed your drinks. You weren’t sure what to say- the man had just saved your life the previous night as if it was just another average event for him.

Evidently noticing your struggle for words, Axe spoke first, “How’s your head?”

You turned your face so he could see the mark and he grimaced at the sight. “Does it hurt much?”

You shrugged and finished your drink in one swallow, “Less now.”

Axe grinned and you felt your heart jump. He drained his glass as well and set it on the table before speaking again, “I’m sorry they hurt you because of me.”

His words surprised you, as did his suddenly solemn expression. “Axe I don’t blame you-” he waved his hand dismissively, “I know you don’t. But I do.” You stared at him, trying to read his expression- where was this going?

Axe reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of yours; you felt your face grow warm at his touch. He sighed and his eyes met yours, “Look, I’m not good at this-” he gestured vaguely with his free hand, “...stuff. I’m a Mandalorian. We’re warriors. I’ve been in this fight to retake our planet since I could walk.” He paused and you cocked your head, waiting for him to continue.

“That day when we walked through the city together,” his dark eyes flicked to yours, “You told me you weren’t afraid of me.” You nodded, remembering the fear on the faces of the others on the street- but you had felt safe in that moment with his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“The night I asked you to stay with me, I didn’t think you would. In fact, I thought you’d stop coming to the bar entirely after the first time we met.”

You blushed at the memory and mustered a smile, "Why did you think that?"

Axe grinned, "Come on- I fucked you in an alleyway."

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment and sighed, "Yeah. That did happen."

As the two of you chuckled over the memory, there was a commotion at the door. The night's entertainment had arrived in the form of a four-piece Bith band with instruments in tow.

As the band set up, you ordered another drink and turned your attention back to Axe. "So, big, strong, Mandalorian-" he rolled his eyes, "Why all the sentimentality?"

You might have imagined it, but you could have sworn his face reddened at your words. "It's just...rare that I meet someone like you." His voice trailed off as he finished speaking.

You leaned forward to press him further, when you were interrupted by the band breaking into a slow, fanfar-laden number.

Axe's head snapped up and his face broke into a wide grin.

"What?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Dance with me." He rose from the table and held out a hand.

"You've lost your mind, Woves." You snorted.

"Come on," he was still smiling, his hand extended.

You sighed and rose to your feet, taking his hand as he led you to the empty dance floor. "I'm going to kill you." You whispered.

"I'm okay with that," Axe took your hand and wrapped his other around your waist.

You tried to hide your smile as Axe moved with you on the dance floor. You were amazed at how well he danced, despite the heavy, beskar armor.

You knew there were other patrons, but you didn't care- you laughed as he spun you, and clung to him when he pulled you close.

The whole inn seemed to disappear as you danced- lost in the background noise as Axe held you against his chest.

As the music wound down, Axe pulled you in close against him. You felt your heart flutter as his chin came to rest on the crown of your head.

For a moment, the two of you remained there on the dance floor, enraptured with each other, before Axe pulled away and led you back to the table.

You felt breathless as you sat down, still riding the high of the dance floor.

"You're lucky, Woves" you breathed as you sank into your chair.

"It was worth it," Axe grinned, as he moved to drain his drink. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, until Axe spoke up again, "Look, I know this has been weird." He paused as the bartender arrived to set another glass in front of him. "But give me a chance to start it all over."

You stared at him for a moment before replying, "Start it over?"

"Let me take you out," His eyes locked with yours as he spoke, "We'll be leaving Trask soon-"

Your heart sank at that. You had almost forgotten entirely about his words to you the first night you met.

"Let me take you somewhere that isn't a bar-" he gestured vaguely at the area around himself, "Will you let me do that?"

You stared at him, the pang of sadness building slowly in your gut. You knew how badly it would hurt when he finally left the planet, but maker did you want to spend every last moment with him.

Axe waited patiently, his eyes never leaving your face as you debated with yourself. You sighed and met his eyes with your own, and his face lit up when you smiled.

"Deal."

----

Tag list: @djxrxn @lestrange2703 @ortizshinkaroff​ @calamity-queen​

Translations:

Bock avreet is Mon Calamarian for "brave comrade"

[capricornus-rex]

Perseverance Over Pride (2 - End)

Requested by: @stellar-trinity​ | Prompt:

Hey Hon! I was wondering if you could do a request? No rush on this one :) I will say this one is a bit personal bc I tend to do this A LOT 😅 Cal comforting the reader after being hard on herself? Maybe the reader was working on Cal’s saber, ends up breaking it more (unintentionally) and once everyone is asleep, she locks herself in her own room and cries? Thanks hon! 🥺💖

Tags: Self-doubting! Reader

Previous | Masterlist

2 of 2

Oh no… No, no… NO! Your mind, anxious and panicked, screamed. You wanted to let the words out but you can’t because it’ll alarm the crew.

You covered your mouth with your entire hand, bottling up all of the emotions that’s thrashing and storming inside your core right now.

“No… That’s impossible! What went wrong?!” you gasped, the weapon shook in your trembling hand.

You set it down on the workbench again. You don’t know what to do first: tear it apart again and redo everything or mentally assess what steps you could’ve possibly mixed up. Though, to save your pride, you didn’t do the latter.

You were back to where you started—taking it apart piece by piece, except with the newly-replaced parts this time. You examined and inspected every single component that you’ve detached from the very structure of the saber and looked for possible errors.

Blinded by confusion, you can’t seem to find what’s wrong. Everything seemed to be in place. You can’t pinpoint what you may have overlooked. You repeated everything you did—and perhaps adjusting a little bit of the parts in each step—and then tested the ignition again.

The result remained the same: a short-lived flicker of the blade.

You couldn’t control yourself when you flung your fist to the workbench, hoping nobody from outside heard that—which they obviously did—you jerked your hand away and rubbed the sore part; all of a sudden, your heart felt heavy, your stomach churned, and your breathing was shaky and rapid.

“What’s the matter with me?”

Trying to relax even felt tedious. The doubt in your conscience was beginning to chew its way into you, but your fought it off along with the words that were gradually forming in your mind—the words that you dread to hear, even if it was just in your imagination.

Nothing.

There was no concentration, no calmness… nothing.

Your mind was in a total disarray.

“This is bad,” you muttered fearfully.

You examined the disassembled lightsaber again, thought long and hard as you stared at it, and then wagered which of the new parts must be replaced to better, functioning ones. The next places that could possibly have some components are the Imperial station near the weathered monument and the ice caves. Asking Greez to take the Mantis to Coruscant is the farthest stretch of an option, so you put that as the last resort—even if the Jedi Temple has the best selection of parts, albeit abandoned.

“It’s highly likely graverobbers have looted the temple though,” you assessed.

Afraid to show your face, and scared to be incapable of answering Cal’s questions about his lightsaber, you couldn’t dare to step out of the room—though you badly need to if you want to get your components. You took a deep breath as if preparing yourself to speed through a row of Auger pulverizers, you rehearsed your general response if ever Cal asks, and coached yourself to keep your eyes on the door.

“Okay, just waltz out. Don’t maintain eye contact, eyes on the door. Just say you’re going out to get more parts, and that’s it. Simple.”

The line became your mantra in the next three minutes. Afterwards, you pulled yourself together and followed your mantra physically to a tee.

“I’m going out again, just need more parts,”

You practically ate your words as you briskly walked past Cal sitting on the couch with Cere in the middle of a hallikset lesson. The two Jedi followed you with their eyes until you disappeared out of the ship. Cal was able to sense something from you, it was faint yet noticeable; he contemplated whether to bring it up to you or wait and see if it would worsen or subside.

You gave the shed on the edge of the landing pad a try, but it turned out to be a disappointment when it was just crates of the same materials as the ones in the derelict hangar; and so off you go to where you needed to be.

You take the shortcut at the turbine facility leading out to the ice slide before the weathered monument. You surprisingly mowed down the dispatched unit of Stormtroopers just on the other side of that blaster door.

“Okay, gotta get to that station fast,” you tell yourself.

You’ve reached your destination: the Imperial command center with a landing platform. You had hoped that with a station this big, you hoped you’d find something worth of all this short trip.

You took every Stormtrooper stationed there singlehandedly by surprise; banking their shots right back at them until all that remains is the black R2 unit strolling across the metal halls.

Now that you’re in the clear, you scoured all of the supply crates that you can find, taking apart the control panels and power terminals for possible substitutes, and even harvesting the parts of a Stormtrooper’s blaster and a Scout Trooper’s staff. By sheer luck, the staff ran on a diatium power cell and prayed that this could be your key to actually fixing the saber.

When you got back, you came in with such a burst that the crew just watched you speed past them. Understandably so, you were too indulged in getting that lightsaber fixed—but they don’t know that you’re protecting your ugly secret of busting it a second time after the Jotaz did.

Cal walked in on you and found you on your second attempt.

“[y/n]?”

You jumped, startled by the softest call of your name.

“You startled me right there!” you gasped, clutching on your chest while sucking in air.

“Oh sorry, I figured you didn’t hear me the first time so I went closer. Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you tried to hide the saber by blocking his view of it with your back. “Look, it’s not ready yet. I thought I finished it but turns out I had to do it again. I… I’m still fitting the power cells underneath the sleeve of the second saber.”

“Look, I’m more worried about you than the saber itself. Could you please do me a favor and don’t stress out on this? Like I said: don’t rush on this.”

“I’m sorry, I… I suppose I just got a bit worked up. Won’t rest until the job’s done—force of habit.”

He raised his lips to your forehead.

“Well, there’s no need to be worked up, okay?”

You nodded and replied in a hushed tone. He dismissed himself, saying Cere owes him another hour of hallikset lessons, and then walked out of the bedroom, leaving you again with his busted saber and in your solitude.

More hours have passed, at this point in time, your confidence has deteriorated. While the power-related parts—namely the diatium power cell, conductor, power vortex ring, and inert power insulator—were finally replaced with the whole, new ones supplied by your inventory and the ones you’ve picked up, it appeared that they weren’t the answers to your question.

You repeated again, tweaking some of the parts that you assumed could have gone wrong.

The same feeling that you had on the first attempt return—only this time, it was five times worse on the third and fourth tries. You wished that you knew what the problem was.

“No… NO!” you growled, pounding the edge of the worktable out of frustration. The force of your outburst was so strong that you managed to make the thin pipe railings creak.

The crew kept it quiet between one another whenever they would hear one of your outbursts: the grunts, startled cries, and groans of frustration. An hour later, you were still stuck in the loop of trying to figure out the mistake. Cal decided to pull you away from that spiraling mess you’ve gotten into.

“[y/n]…?” he called as he knocked. “Dinner’s ready. Are you coming?”

“N-No, Cal… I… I’m not hungry,” you spoke to him through the sealed door, your voice is muffled but still coherent. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sorry, Cal. Please, I just want some time alone to finish this,”

“Alright then. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Oh… okay. Thanks, Cal…”

Cal appeared out of the small annex to join the crew at the dinner table. Cere started to get worried when he appeared without you.

“Where’s [y/n]?”

He repeated your reason to everyone as he took his seat. There was awkward air that somehow exuded the empty chair next to Cal—where you usually sit.

Cal left some food for you and personally put them away on his own after dinner. Cere watched him prepare your serving in case you finally decide to come out of the room and eat, as he sealed off the food container, she confronted him gently.

“Cal, is [y/n] okay? She’s been acting… unusual lately. She’s been locked up in your room for hours now and missed dinner. The last time we saw her outside that room is when she came to scavenge for spare parts.”

“Something’s off about her ever since the last time she went out. She didn’t even open the door to talk to me, she just spoke through the door. I didn’t think that she’d put that much pressure on herself to repair my lightsaber… but now I do.”

“Go talk to her. I am absolutely sure she needs it,” Cere clapped him on the shoulder before retreating to the cockpit.

While they were eating, you have already gone through your fifth attempt. You’ve given up in the middle of the sixth try and ended up sitting on the floor, hugging your knees, and just succumb to crying. When Cal got close enough, he could hear you weeping in the room and that further confirmed his presumption about you.

He knocked on the door again, calling your name.

“Come on, I saved you some dinner,” he coaxed. “Greez made your favorite.”

“Please just… go away, Cal…” you replied.

Cal noticed the change of tone in your voice and the sniffles.

“No, I won’t,”

The two of you conversed with a sealed blast door in the middle. You wanted it that way because you didn’t want him to see the teary-eyed mess that you are and his still-busted lightsaber.

“Look, I couldn’t fix your lightsaber; I could have broken it but not on purpose—you should be hating me right now!”

“I don’t hate you,” he coolly said. “I could never hate you.”

There was no response from your end at the door, you buried your face in your knees in shame, letting tears pool on your pant legs in the process. He decided to open the door via the control keypad on his side. When the door whizzed open, he saw you curled up on the floor by the workbench; you didn’t look to him when he got in.

“Oh, [y/n]…” he purred, sitting on the floor and then taking you into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could do it…!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to break it, honest. I really wanted to fix it but I just couldn’t… I thought I could!”

He shushed. He rested his cheek over your head after kissing your forehead. “Please don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I was too afraid to ask help from you…” you hiccupped. “I was afraid you’d think of me as incompetent.”

“Aww, no,” he cooed. “Baby, no—I’d never think of you as something like that! What made you think that?”

“Cal, look at me: I’m a Jedi who can’t fix a lightsaber! I’m the perfect definition of that word. What else would I call myself if I’m incapable of rebuilding the most vital part of a Jedi?”

He cradled your head to his chest and allowed you to let it all out whether through tears or lashing out.

“You know, back in Dathomir—when I was opening the door to the Tomb of Kujet—I got myself into a Force vision,”

You listened, prompting him to continue with soft grunts.

“Master Tapal was standing there in front of me. When he saw that I didn’t fight back, he said something to me,”

“What was that?” you asked, your voice has calmed down and the sobbing hiccups have gotten lesser.

“He told me that persistence reveals the path. And you know what I’ve gotten from that?”

You look up at him to find sincere eyes staring back lovingly at you and a small yet reassuring smile. The word “What?” was a mere blow of air between your lips when you urged him to continue.

“When failure hasn’t deterred you from trying again and again, no matter how many times,” he spoke as he stroked your hair. “You’ll find your answer at the end of the path sooner than you think.”

“But I’m afraid. I’m afraid to fail… like I always have been, secretly.”

“But have you really given up?”

Your eyes wandered blankly into space, pondering on his question as well as your own answer—the true answer. Your eyebrows furrowed as you somberly reflected upon it. In response, you shake your head. You promptly stood up from the floor, Cal followed and stood by your side; you let him watch you work and to his surprise, you’ve picked up a soldering iron you found back in the Imperial command center.

From time to time, he would help out in certain parts of rebuilding it—handing out the parts and components that you need, giving you an extra hand when needing to hold something really still until you’ve perfectly fitted it into place as well as helping with a few of the trickier steps in the procedure.

The last part of fixing it was refitting the blade energy chamber—the narrow tube that bridges the kyber crystal and the emitter—and when you presume everything is finally done, Cal let you do the honors of meditating once more on the lightsaber.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “Relax and concentrate.”

“Okay…”

It may not be yours, indeed, but your connection with Cal—that you have unconsciously overlooked and shut out this whole time—was soothing the whole time up until this very moment. For a moment, that anxiety that was flooding your entire being was gone and all you could think of was thoughts that signify tranquility: the waterfalls, the sunrise at Bogano, the empty abode, and even an image of Cal himself.

Click…

Your heart skipped a beat when you hear that tiniest of sounds. You fought off the hesitation of opening your eyes. In face value, the lightsaber looked normal. You stared blankly at it, not even realizing that your hand was gravitating to it; once again, your fingers clamped around the handle and lifted it up from the workbench placemat. You shoot a look at Cal.

“Together?”

He placed his hand over your hand, his thumb over yours on the switch.

“Together.”

He squeezed on your thumb downwards, subsequently doubling onto the pressure applied on the switch button. A sharp buzz snarled out of the polished hilt. Cal removed his hand from the hilt and stood back, while examining the beam of light that shone in the room. You exchanged glances with him, you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, and your heart was pounding that you couldn’t catch up with your breathing. Steadily, you waved the weapon around the small space where you stood.

More than ten seconds have passed and the blade of light didn’t die out. Your official sixth attempt finally was a success!

You exhaled laughingly. Finally! You thought. We did it!

You looked over the blade and found Cal smiling with a sense of pride in you. You pressed the switch again and the blade retracted back into the emitter to set it down on the workbench. You hopped toward Cal and—in an uncontrollable urge—threw yourself in his arms.

“We did it!” you beamed, relieved and happy.

“But you did most of the work, I only helped on the sidelines,”

“Don’t be silly. Well… I was silly myself,” you shrugged. “I guess I had too much pride earlier. Thanks, Cal, you’ve helped me a whole lot—more than enough, in fact.”

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, apologizing thereafter.

“It’s okay, sweetie, rest as much as you need. I’ll be here,” Cal planted another kiss on your head as he cradled you like a baby, trapping you in an embrace as your puffy eyes felt heavy. He continued to stroke your hair until you drifted off to sleep. “I’ll always be here. I promise.”

[far-away-stars]

Can I ask all for Tenja or Ezio (or both c;) for the NPC asks? -v-

Hi, yes, I did both kitties, which mean it took me too long and got tired of trying to make any sense halfway through it, so sorry if it doesn’t make any sense or it’s just lame here and there. :’D

Tenja Rel 

1. Would they be recruitable?

As a new Jedi in training, yes, I pretty much think so. Sith is harder since he’s quite individualistic and has a pretty possessi-ehm, protective brother.

2. Would they be a class specific character? (ie. Imperial Agent only. Republic character only)

Probably Jedi specific. Either Consular or Knight both.

3. When would you recruit them? Vanilla story? an Expac? Post KOTET?

I think vanilla would be good, learning “peacefully” on the field the ways of Jedi.

4. Where would you recruit them from?

Probably directly from the Temple on Tython, going to pick him up for a mission you were assigned for by some of the higher-ups.

5. What would their recruitment mission be?

He wouldn’t really need one, since, simply put, he doesn't really have a choice, I’ll assume whatever missions the characters made so far in name of the Republic and jedi were enough as a vote of trust for the Council. If we are talking some sort of loyalty mission … maybe he asks you to accompany him on some sort of travel to Voss? To get some help for his blindness. Not to cure it, but to stop the phantom pains probably, or the general headaches from using the Force to “see” while not being yet fully used to it. It may also lead to a dream-travel adventure of sorts (with some comments of his regarding how he can somehow “see” you now.)

6.What would be their original recruitment outfit?

Visas Marr in an all-black dye.

7. Would there be a character they don’t like? Would that cause you to choose sides?

Well. There would be issues if he somehow came into contact with his brother, Di’taqt, so any sort-of public alliance with the Sith would probably be problematic.

8. Are they romancable? Why/why not?

They are, but it’s probably not one of the easiest shells to break. He didn’t really allowed himself love for the sake of it, I mean, his last wife blinded him in a fit of rage. Also, well, he doesn’t mind sex at all, because it what he was used to as a Sith and wasn’t going to go chaste just for the sake of old ass Jedi traditions, so there’s that. But, well. He doesn’t think love has a change to turn out well. He can be proved wrong, if one is willing to try.

9. What would they say if you clicked on them?

“I’m listening.” “What do you have in store for us today, my friend?” “At your service.” “I do wonder if it’s a wise idea.” “Mhnn, gossip. I like it.” “No one suspects the blind man.”

10. Do they know any other in game characters? (ie. trained under Satele Shan during the civil war. Knew Talos before he went to Hoth)

Aside from his brother and general Sith acquaintances I don’t think so.

11. What weapon(s) would they have?

His lightsaber, standard force-sensitive equipment. His sly charm.

12. Are they better as a tank, healer or DPS?

Essentially DPS but he can manage a decent amount of healing, at least for himself. His specialty consists in entropic redistribution of the Force, basically siphoning life force from his enemies to himself, wasting away his enemies while healing and strengthening himself.

13. What gifts do they Love? Like? What would they say when you gave them a gift?

Weapon and Trophy, probably. Doesn't mind Luxury and Courting either. - “Well. Someone will certainly find a use to it.” “Appreciated.” “For me? I’m honored.” “I.. thank you, my friend. It’s truly wonderful.”

14. What would they say if you sent them away/changed them out?

“I’ll be there when you need me.” “Good rest to you.” “Oh, you wound me, leaving so soon.” “I dare you to find company as good as mine, my friend.”

15. What do they say when they heal you? What do they say when they are attacking?

“Hush, hush. Better already, is it?” “Don’t die on me, my friend, I don’t need that kind of stress in my life.” “Fresh air and the the kiss of life.” - “Tut-tut, I’ll show how it’s done.” “Let it go. It will hurt less if you don’t fight it.” “You are lacking finesse. Not that it will matter for longer still.” “Do us a favor. Don’t get up.”

16. What’s their idle chatter like? Do they talk a lot (when you arrive on each planet) or do they suddenly say something in some strange places?

They certainly like to say something at each planet, idle stuff, less prone to start random conversations if unprompted.

17. What letters would they send post vanilla class story/SOR/KOTFE

Romance :

He would probably be so frustrated trying to write one, or think of a gift, but, yeah, letters are not his forte. He wouldn’t know what to write, how to explain, how to express what he feels. Not the full story of his life on paper would be enough to try to begin to put into words how he feels to this day next to them.

He will try to prove it, to show it, to make it spoken in a language he hopes the character will understand, but, no. Not in a letter. He will write invisible patterns on their skin, he will smile his gratitude and hold his hopes in their arms with them. And hope they understand.

Also he would have to dictate it to a holo-transcriptor and yeah, no.

18. If they are recruitable in vanilla story, where are they during KOTFE/TET? What are/were they doing?

Probably still with the Jedi. He didn’t have much choice, he couldn’t really go back to the Empire, and it’s not as if they were faring any better Tho I bet he was one of the most frustrated ones after the deal with Zakuul, very bitter. He may have left at a certain point to join some resistance’s group, if anything not to feel so useless.

Lucretyiio 

1. Would they be recruitable?

Buy him food and he’s yours, honestly.

2. Would they be a class specific character? (ie. Imperial Agent only. Republic character only)

No, not really. He usually strays away from force sensitives and isn’t overly fond of the Empire, but well, he doesn’t judge people from covers. Or tries at least,

3. When would you recruit them? Vanilla story? an Expac? Post KOTET?

He’s pretty freestyle. He constantly asks for rides. Anytime would work.

4. Where would you recruit them from?

A Cantina. Could be anywhere from Coruscant, to Tatooine, to Nar Shadda.

5. What would their recruitment mission be?

Help him take down or stop some violent gang making business around probably, or something of the sort.

6.What would be their original recruitment outfit?

Canderous Ordo armor.

7. Would there be a character they don’t like? Would that cause you to choose sides?

Honestly.. Not really. There’s a lot of things he doesn’t like, but it’s not about choosing sides, not really, it’s about engaging ourselves to be the best we can possibly be. He doesn’t actually wants to shun or isolate people. He won't be comfortable or agree with everyone, but he wants to believe it’s doable while offering the chance to be united.

Honestly, like, yeah, he will vocally disagree to a lot of stuff if it involves violence, abuse and all that stuff. But he will stay as long as he believes in the cause. Being open about his opinions is also one of the ways he hopes will help changing things for the best and influence people with new ideas.

8. Are they romancable? Why/why not?

Yes, very. He’s so flirty. He just happens to become a mess if you flirt back. You may have to pick him up on a spoon. But he’ll sing all the love ballads to you.

9. What would they say if you clicked on them?

“Never wondered : why Banthas? No, like, that’s it. That’s the question. I can’t figure them out, mate.” “Why nothing rhymes with “Saresh”?” “Bada-mba-dababum mate, ya feel me?” “I. Need. Ice Cream.” “Oh shit, forgot the safety on the blaster.” “I’m here all day folks.” “No, man, you are the sidekick.”

10. Do they know any other in game characters? (ie. trained under Satele Shan during the civil war. Knew Talos before he went to Hoth)

Nope, don’t think so.

11. What weapon(s) would they have?

His brazen and melodious singing voice. His halliksete, if smashed on someone’s head. A blaster that he mostly knows how to use. Also smoke grenades. Because he often needs a diversion from when he needs to quickly disappear.

12. Are they better as a tank, healer or DPS?

He can damage things alright. Mostly willingly. I wouldn’t really trust him for anything else.

13. What gifts do they Love? Like? What would they say when you gave them a gift?

Underworld Good and Courting are his faves. Luxury and Cultural Artefact can work out. - “Hey, yeah, cool. What is it?” “Fancy ass cool, man!” “Fuck. Thanks.” “*sobbing*”

14. What would they say if you sent them away/changed them out?

“Hey, be back soon for another show.” “Yeeees, party time!” “No, yeah, of course I can be left to my own devices. No dangers. Ah.” “I’ll be back when you need me!”

15. What do they say when they heal you? What do they say when they are attacking?

“Hey. Wanna me to kiss it better?” “I’m trying!” “Hey, all better, Am I the best or am I the best?” “Oh fuck man that must have hurt.” - “Aaaand perfect strike for local handsome!” “Yes, that was… totally what I meant to do!” “Oh fuck that hurt.” “In your BEHIND, dude.”

16. What’s their idle chatter like? Do they talk a lot (when you arrive on each planet) or do they suddenly say something in some strange places?

He talks a lot. Don’t even get me started.

17. What letters would they send post vanilla class story/SOR/KOTFE

One of his letters, both romance and not-romance (tho romance’s content are slightly different) is the messy drafts of a song he’s trying to compose about the character. It’s some sort of epic tale, or brash cantina chant, or something more private. It’s a mess, with all his annotations. It’s very sincere. He says he never managed to finish it, and maybe it’s because he doesn’t want it to finish. Never.

18. If they are recruitable in vanilla story, where are they during KOTFE/TET? What are/were they doing?

Helping refugees. He started off really angry, blazen songs about Zakuul and how they all had to fight. Then… he just wanted to help people.

[queenshadowandierre]

Sabe

KEIRA KNIGHTLEY // have you met SABE ANDIERRE yet? SHE/HER is a 27 year old CIS FEMALE HUMAN. they’re originally from NABOO and now show loyalty to REBELLION (PADME). they are best known for being a BODYGUARD/SPY, and i hear they’re pretty LOYAL yet also MOODY at times; i hope they survive the galactic civil war.

THE PAST Sabé Andierre, formerly known as Tsabin, was a human female who hailed from the planet Naboo during the late era of the Galactic Republic. Serving as a handmaiden in the Royal House of Naboo, Sabé was duty-bound to protect Queen Padmé Amidala—the elected ruler of the people of Naboo—against any threat.  Tsabin was born on Naboo around 46 BBY, into a family of hallikset players.  As per family tradition, she was sent to study music at the Theed Conservatory, a school known for training traditional musicians, as her older brothers had studied there, although she strongly disliked it.  She was first handmaiden to Queen Amidala, the leader of the handmaidens during Amidala's reign as Queen, and in the early stages of their rebellion against the Galactic Empire, and a General in the Rebel Alliance. She secretly had a younger sister named Sonya Andierre, who was kept hidden to prevent anyone from learning more of their family history.  Born on her family's large land holdings, Sabé spent the earliest years of her life free of cares, though her parents were secretly dismayed by her tomboyishness. She had a younger sister, however, the two would rarely spend anytime together, due to the fact that she was forced to conceal and keep knowledge of her family's very existence to a bare minimum in order for the decoy gambit to remain viable, something she regretted when she got older. However, she took comfort in knowing that she and her sister were aware of one another's existence.

Despite their reservations her mother, Rian Olnick, still did her level best to spoil Sabé rotten, and throughout her life Sabé favored the Olnick family over the Andierres. As a girl, she loved playing bolo-ball against her cousins, and her childhood ambition was to do it professionally. However, when she was 11, her parents convinced her to put her name down as a possible handmaiden, and three years later, she was selected by Captain Panaka as the first of 13 Royal Handmaidens, contingent on then-Princess Amidala being elected as Queen. Very early in her training Sabé took to the role enthusiastically.

In 32 BBY, the year she turned fourteen and was expected to take up an apprenticeship, Tsabin was asked to hold off on accepting an apprenticeship until after the upcoming election, although he provided no details.  After Amidala won the election, Tsabin accepted Panaka's offer to become her body double, being introduced to Amidala and becoming the Queen's first handmaiden. Two weeks after Amidala's election, Panaka presented four other girls, Rabene Tonsort, Eirtama Ballory, Suyan Higin and Sashah Adova, to her as potential handmaidens as well, and the Queen took them to her apartments in the Theed Royal Palace to discuss things. There, the girls decided what roles each would have in Amidala's service and, at Tonsort's suggestion, changed their names to match Amidala's given one for privacy, some prestige, and so that Amidala going undercover as one of her own handmaidens would be less noticeable. The last to pick her new name, Tsabin became Sabé.

Sabé and the other handmaidens following the queen's coronation were trained in gymnastics, hand-to-hand combat and small arms handling. Despite their ability to serve as bodyguards, the handmaidens would also serve Amidala on a more personal level, tending to her outfits and hairstyles.  Thinking ahead, Panaka devised a scheme to ensure the queen's safety in times of crisis. Sabé, who bore a striking resemblance to Amidala, would adopt the role of the queen, while Amidala herself would pose as a handmaiden.  Though Sabé was usually first in line to play the role of "false queen," the Queen’s Shadow, the other handmaidens could also fill the position if needs be.  Due to her role as Amidala's decoy, Sabé was considered to be the most important of the queen's bodyguards. During her time as a handmaiden, Sabé became close friends with Amidala.  Sabe was loyal to a fault. She had loyalty to Padme, and she knew Padme could not return the same care.

The handmaidens would constantly train at a secret compound set up by Panaka, located just outside Theed. There, they would hone their marksmanship under the captain's supervision. The training area included an obstacle course that the handmaidens had to navigate while constantly being harried by a floating training droid. One day, the handmaidens were joined by a newcomer, named Padmé. Yané and Eirtaé successfully completed the course that day, but Rabé encountered some potentially fatal difficulties. Hit in the arm by the training droid's non-lethal blaster fire, Rabé returned fire, but even a direct hit was unable to down the droid. Padmé and Sabé also opened fire on the training device, to no avail. The duo quickly realized that something had gone amiss with the droid, and it pursued the fleeing Rabé to a nearby waterfall while Yané went to alert the compound's droid control.

While Rabé waited on the treacherous footing near the waterfall, Sabé, acting quickly, fired a cable at a nearby branch. Padmé swung from the cable, lashing out at the training droid and knocking it wildly off course. She then retrieved the injured Rabé from her dangerous position. When everyone was safe, Padmé revealed that she was in fact the queen, and in doing so she assured her handmaidens that their loyalty to her was returned in kind.

The forces of the Trade Federation invaded Naboo as a part of their protest of the taxation of trade routes. Knowing that the queen would be in danger, Captain Panaka initiated his scheme to ensure the safety of Amidala. Sabé, due to her close resemblance to Amidala, took on her guise, while Amidala adopted handmaiden attire and used her birth name of "Padmé Naberrie".  It was then that she met two Jedi Knights, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi who got them and the entourage off of Naboo in the queen’s unarmed starship. Sabe maintained her guise as “Queen Amidala”.

After a stop on Tatooine where they added young Anakin Skywalker to the ship with the Jedis, they headed to Coruscant and the Senate.  Arriving at the capital, Sabé again swapped identities with Amidala, allowing the real queen to deal with the critical political maneuvering that was sure to take place. This allowed Sabé to take a break from her stressful role, although the respite was short-lived.  Sabé, in her guise as Amidala, went before Boss Rugor Nass and pleaded with him to join their cause. When Amidala saw that this was not working, she revealed her identity as a token of trust.  Sabé was to continue to assume the role of the queen in the Battle of Naboo, although she would fight alongside Amidala herself.  Thanks to Sabé and Amidala's efforts, amongst those of many others, the battle was won, and Naboo was freed.  Following the battle, after the funeral of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who had been struck down in combat, Sabé again contacted elements of the Naboo Underground, and had them investigate Savor Kibbs, the leader of a new renegade movement of Humans and Gungans. The underground members eventually did battle with Kibbs in Naboo's swamps.

THE PRESENT During the Clone Wars, the Jedi High Council discovered that the Confederacy of Independent Systems had paid several outlaws on Coruscant to kidnap Amidala before a crucial speech in the Senate. In an effort to draw out the kidnappers, the Jedi hid Amidala in a safe location and allowed Sabé and Eirtaé to be captured instead. The Council then sent Anakin Skywalker—now a Jedi Knight and secretly Amidala's husband—to rescue the senator; Skywalker was not aware of the exchange that had occurred. Skywalker successfully tracked down the kidnappers and subdued them. He released Amidala's decoys, but did not like the fact that he had not been told the truth about the Jedi Council's plans.

After the battle, Sabé returned to the background in the palace, though outside of it she would take on a role in strengthening Naboo's military forces. With the practice of the Queen using her as a decoy having been exposed, she was allowed to appear in public much more than she would have been otherwise. She and Padme Amidala also grew very close during the following eight years.

 PERSONALITY Throughout her life Sabé was known for her aggression, always more comfortable shooting first and asking questions later, though Panaka worked hard in her youth to teach her to restrain her impulses, and she grew better at this with age. She was a natural leader, never uncomfortable taking charge and taking command. She did not usually have difficulty getting subordinates to follow her, and her courage and lack of airs often inspired strong loyalty.  However, she was known sometimes to clash with other leaders, particularly in high-pressure situations. It was never easy for them to earn her respect, and when she developed a bad opinion of someone it could be very difficult to get her to change her mind. 

Sabé was an extremely talented impersonator, fooling many in her act as Amidala. The ruse was not only successful due to her physical similarity to Amidala, but also to her skilled mimicry of Amidala's voice and mannerisms.  Sabé was taught how to echo Amidala's gait by the queen herself. 

During her younger years, she never seemed entirely satisfied with all she had accomplished, always trying to better her accomplishments, and often trying to branch out of her comfort zone and acquire new skills. Age, and toll of fighting a long war against the Empire, turned her slightly more complacent, but even then she was known for continually working and moving towards new goals.

She was also a skilled combatant, fighting Federation droids at the Battle of Naboo. A crack shot with an ELG-3A blaster pistol, she managed to take off a droid's head with a single shot.  Although no harm ever befell her, Sabé was usually in great danger when disguised as the queen. She accepted this role dutifully, however.  Sharp and calculating, Sabé became a close friend of Amidala during her time as a handmaiden, devising a set of hand signals that would enable communications between the two when playing their switched roles. 

Although she was adept in the role, Sabé would worry about ruining the deception with one slip of the tongue, and she found playing the part to be extremely stressful during the Invasion of Naboo, since she was effectively barred from making any actions whatsoever without Amidala's approval.  In addition to her skills as a bodyguard, Sabé could speak Gunganese, Huttese, Twi'leki, and could understand Shyriiwook.

Sabé had a particularly close friendship with Padmé and was the only handmaiden to remain in Amidala’s service after she left the throne.

[breakfastteatime]

What do you think the actual in-universe mechanics are for Cal interacting with echoes? Fandom is big on him being struck by accidental echoes all the time, and that's great for plot or angst purposes, but I don't read it that way; honestly, I can't see him staying sane if so. With the rare exceptions like Trilla's lightsaber, it seems to be an active choice on his part. My tenative headcanon is that (at least as a trained adult) Cal has to be actively open to/using the Force to read an echo from something (which he was when he was using it to summon Trilla's lightsaber) and otherwise, it's similar to game mechanics, that he can sense from a distance that something has an echo, and choose to interact with it. I like how you've balanced logic and fantasy world in your storoes so I'm wondering what your take on it is.

Thank you for asking about this! I will try to break down my thoughts as coherently as possible. I admit my interpretation has developed over the *checks notes* fifteen months since I first played Fallen Order.

This got lengthy so under the cut we goooooo!

Firstly, the headcanon that goes around about Cal not picking up echoes if he wears gloves does not work for me because you literally see him picking up echoes with his gloved hand in Fallen Order. He uses both hands to do this. Okay, PHEW, got that off my chest.

Alright, moving on!

Personally, I always try to separate videogame mechanics and storytelling because as a game, the echoes function the way finding documents would in another game (e.g. all the files you find in games like Control or Resident Evil, or the voice recordings in Bioshock). Whenever they are being included as a gameplay element, the player literally sees them as glowing blue light, and you have to interact with the item for Cal to pull out the echo. So yes, I agree that to some extent he has control over what he does and does not experience. I like to think Master Tapal taught him some self-control. You know - resist temptation, Cal!!!

However, when echoes are included as a storytelling element, there isn't always a light (e.g. the hallikset doesn't have anything until Cal touches it and it flashes, Trilla's lightsaber has nothing, the bacta tank in Survivor). These tend to be the more all-consuming ones (again - because it's a storytelling element so we're gonna get a cutscene).

We also see Cal pull his own echo out of a dream, and arguably the flashbacks in Fallen Order are examples of him doing this too... The flashbacks in both games (although more so in Fallen Order) are where gameplay and storytelling come together beautifully... but that's for another day!

So, how do I marry gameplay and storytelling? My interpretation is this: some echoes are so huge and so powerful that they just spill out of the Force from Cal's perspective. He can then choose to either interact with them or leave them. Others are equally powerful but catch him off-guard for whatever reason (he's distracted, he's tired, it's surrounded by 'brighter' echoes, or it just doesn't glow... I will find a plot device!). I also feel like the Force has this element of benign will, so if the Force wants Cal to see something, he's going to see it because the Force doesn't care about individuals. It's the Force! It doesn't conform to human behaviour.

As for how he would stay sane if almost everything he ever touches has some kind of echo on it, I come at it from a perspective of 'Jedi are as used to their abilities as I am with breathing'. If Cal does pick up stuff from everything (which I don't believe because not everything is being held while something of great importance happens!), he just processes it because he's a natural-born Force-sensitive, and he's used to it. The Jedi trained him on how to focus, how to let some things pass right through him, and how to reflect upon the echoes that won't go quietly. In other words - he gets better with age and practice, however sometimes psychometry still gets the better of him (a bit like how my lungs can breathe, but asthma makes that harder at times).

I also find it fascinating how Cal has clearly developed his ability between games. In Survivor, we see him holding onto himself more frequently (he follows Dagan in his dream/memory, we see him watching the moment Santari fights him... he then turns an echo against Dagan which I freaking LOVE... interestingly, he doesn't hold onto himself in the memory he picks up from Zee, suggesting that he hasn't quite perfected this yet.) Oh, and then we have the fractured echoes which I'm still kicking around as a 'how do I take this definitely a gameplay thing and make it a storytelling thing'.

The character development in these games is just fantastic, and going back and playing Fallen Order after a couple of Survivor playthroughs just makes it even clearer (and not because I keep forgetting teenaged Cal can't do a bunch of things).

I love to play around with echoes because they're just such a fun concept. Except more stories about them in the future!

I really hope my logic makes sense here! Thanks for the Ask ^_^

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (6)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 6: The Hermit | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 | Previous: Chapter 5 | Next: Chapter 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

So many questions rang in Cere’s mind, though she took her time in listing them up neatly in her mind. She started with the question why Imperials have arrived to the planet and started obliterating the biggest settlement.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask Cal,”

“Cal?” Greez was taken aback by the mention of his name. “Cal was there?”

“Yeah,” your pursed your lips and clicked your tongue. “I suppose he’s an Inquisitor now.”

“What? An Inquisitor?!” the Lateron captain exclaimed in disbelief.

“Well, given the last time we saw him, we all thought it was highly likely, innit?”

Cere ticked off that question and went on with the next.

“[y/n],” she cautiously spoke this time, gulping the lump stuck in her throat. “Did Cal do all that? The town?”

You swiveled your chair to face Cere—and Merrin who’s standing by the woman’s chair—and sighed.

“Yes. He told me that it was his directive to attack the town. How he found us here is something I don’t know, but I have a theory: they might have had spies in the town, though I shouldn’t be surprised since there were troopers there in the first place. My gravest assumption would be anyone in the Yewa Docking Bay.”

Loud sighs and nervous murmurs spoke for everybody in the cockpit. Everyone couldn’t utter a word. You swiveled the chair back and started inputting coordinates on the computer.

“What are you doing now?” the captain scolded.

“He’s still after the Holocron we retrieved from Magyon. I know someone who can be a better keeper, he’ll be the very least the Inquisitors—or Cal for that matter—will expect. At the same time, we’ll make our trail cold.”

The captain confirmed the coordinates that you’ve encoded into the navigation computer and got the ship ready for a jump to lightspeed. He cranked the lever and the ship enters hyperspace. When the situation has calmed down, you spun your chair again to face Cere.

“Cere, a word?”

“Of course,”

The woman promptly stood up from her seat and settled yourselves on the couch at the holotable.

“Something on your mind?”

“When I fought Cal, he was so different—he’s gotten more aggressive and heavier with his attacks. It’s like I barely knew him, even though he was such a familiar face. Frankly, he was scary,”

“It apparently has something to do with the training he received as an Inquisitor,”

“There’s another,” you adjusted yourself in your seat. “You know about my Force-Halt, right? The day we left Bogano.”

She nodded, urging you to continue.

“Well, it turns out, Cal knows how to use it too,”

The uneasiness became more evident in Cere: her eyebrows furrowed, her head turned to the floor, staring blankly at it while she registers that information.

“But,” that word cut off Cere from further zoning out. “He bragged to me that he’s mastered it, though, it also lasted for a short time. That’s why I was able to break free.”

Comparing the durations between your Force-Halt and his, you recalled the last moments that unfurled in Koboth—that day, you were able to keep him under the ability’s influence even from a long distance; though you couldn’t pinpoint whether the distance or voluntarily letting go factored to him breaking free. Both possibilities were logical, but there only has to be one.

“Then it could only mean he’s learned it later than you did. Perhaps, he’s still learning the ropes of it. Either way, you have to be careful whenever he does use it on you,”

Without a doubt, Cal will use it on you the next time he does. For now, the thing on your mind right now is getting to the planet where that person may be, and then hop to the next planet.

The trip was long so you retreat to your room, changed into a tank top and fresh pants to let your drenched outfit dry up. You donned a poncho to keep yourself warm from the Mantis’s air-conditioning.

You fished out the Holocron that you have been keeping in one of your bags. You sat in the lounge, joining Cere who was strumming away with her hallikset, she noticed the cyan cube pulsating its light in your hand.

“[y/n]?”

“You know, we’ve kept it all this time and not a day goes by without me thinking what could be inside,”

You look to Cere for some sort of affirmation or reassurance. The cube weighed on the flat of your palm and you channeled the Force from yourself to the Holocron. A rhythmic clicking noise emitted from the golden frame of the artifact, the once-whole pieces reduced into floating shards until a projection hatched out.

It was Plo Koon’s list of the Force-sensitive children he’s discovered throughout his journey.

“It’s exactly like the first one,” Merrin commented.

All eyes wandered across the luminous, indigo hologram riddled with the names written in Aurebesh. The projection is visualized like a sort of map, hence its circular image, with the dots signifying the planets where they could be found. The projection continued to hover and illuminate the room.

“There’s something on my mind that I want to say to you, [y/n],”

“Shoot,”

“This planet we’re heading to, how did you come to know it? What makes you think there’s someone who can keep it safer than we could?”

It was a good question. You search for the Cere’s holocron, you reached for it using the Force when you spotted it sitting on the corner of the dining table. Cere understood your plan, and you haven’t even activated it yet.

“You actually think that he’s there—in the planet that we’re heading to right now?”

“Look, Cere, I know it’s funny and you probably think I’m crazy or stupid or both. I don’t blame you if you think it’s illogical but…” you scoffed out a weak laugh, trying to gather the best words to be coherent. “I can’t explain it. Even when meditating, I feel it, the Force—as if speaking to me, telling me to trust my feelings. At first I didn’t listen to it because I thought the Force is toying with me just because I’ve become vulnerable all this time. But this time, I don’t think I have an excuse to not trust in my own instincts.”

There was a silence in the lounge. The microphone’s feedback crackled and a muffled rendition of Greez’s voice rang through the speakers.

“We’ve entered the planet’s orbit.”

All the women marched to the cockpit and got a view of the beige, sandy planet. Even from that a great distance, you felt a strong pull of the Force leading you on. That feeling was enough of a reassurance.

You assisted Greez in steering the ship, pinpointing safe areas that you could find in your navigation computer and then transmitting them to his own screen for him to follow. The Mantis landed behind a ridge where they’re safe from prying eyes. You suited up a poncho over your jacket so you blend with the sand and then pull up the hood; your bag containing the holocron and a few necessary items slung across your back. BD-1 crawled up your arm and then perched on your shoulder.

“How long do we have before the next jump is charged and ready?”

“Give it a few hours,” Greez replied.

“I won’t be long,” you tell Cere.

“Be careful out there,”

“Don’t I always?”

“Not really,”

It was the truth, though it warranted a laugh out of you.

You left the ship and began your trek through the flat, sandy wasteland. The low-lying haze of dust swept through your calves as you stamp your feet across the terrain. It felt like you’ve brought yourself to a purgatory of nothingness—save the extreme combined heat of two suns and the winds constantly changing direction to whisk up towers of dust clouds.

The golden brown sediments pricked the pores on your cheeks, you’ve already pulled up the flaps of your poncho to cover your nose and mouth but it didn’t do much. When the winds have picked up again, you found yourself passing through a low trench, shielding yourself from the inconvenience out in the open.

“Spooky, isn’t it, BD?”

“Boooo…”

“Don’t worry, I’m here, buddy.”

You unclipped your saber but didn’t ignite it, readying yourself for any attack that comes in the way.

An animalistic howl echoed between the crevices of the rocks and then you were jumped by a Tusken Raider! The end of its staff struck you across the cheek before you could even attack, causing you to drop your saber. Its weapon jabbed hard on your shin—and the pain was stomach-churning. You scuttled away from it and towards your lightsaber lying in a cushion of sand.

You had your hands literally full—on one, you were pulling for your saber; on the other, you inflicted Force-Halt on the Tusken. With the enemy frozen, your scuttling doubled its haste in going for the lightsaber. Certain with your ability, you took your time in hobbling back to the Tusken Raider you’re your saber ignited while it was standing painfully still.

You struck it down and snapped for a stim. It wasn’t a total recovery, the stim only numbed the pain tolerable enough for you to run with a shattered shin. When the curb of the pass was in sight, you slowed down with the running, presuming there might be more waiting once you make the turn. You stalked the path carefully, apparently your would-be assailant lost its patience and sprung out of its hiding place; holding the staff above its head and bobbing it up and down to assert dominance while doing its primal call.

The broken shin messed up your balance, and subsequently your fighting form. A swing of your saber severed its war club and then you introduced the sole of your boot to its chin, disorienting it and preparing to strike it down—but you were denied that chance when another gripped you by the shoulders to drag you across the floor.

“GET OFF!” you growled, violently shaking its grip off of you.

You threw your sword arm upward and drove your saber into the Tusken’s jugular—which you assumed it to be—and then its lifeless body disturbed the sand. This angered the one whose staff you just severed. It charged angrily towards you, there wasn’t a shred of sentience or humanity in its stride; you felt something or someone land from behind—you were too afraid to look and it would kill you if you glance over your shoulder. The Tusken Raider, once so wild with its movements and flailing its arms with great assertion, shirked in fear and retreated to the pass where it came from.

You felt a pair of gentle, kind hands clutch your arms, hoisting you up from the ground.

“You caught yourself in quite a pickle there, my dear,”

Still stricken with the events that transpired just now, you slowly craned your head to the side. Your savior is dressed in a dust-caked cloak whose hemlines at the sleeves and body were tattered due to time, his beard has grown past the tip of his chin and covered most of his jaw, and locks of his hair as brown as the sand flopped and hung in front of his forehead.

You know this man.

“Master Kenobi?” you uttered the only thing that came to your mind after everything.

“Well, I don’t think the word ‘Master’ warrants any meaning here,” he dryly chuckled. “Come, you’ve only met a small scouting patrol. We’ll be in big trouble if we linger.”

You winced when you planted the balls of your feet on the ground. The former Jedi Master saw your limping leg and noticed the bruise forming up in your cheek.

“Oh dear, are you alright, child?”

“Yes, I’m fine,”

“I think not,” he insisted. He bent down on his knees and checked your leg. He placed one hand on the spot where the Tusken had jabbed its pommel and suddenly appeared to be focusing.

A calming sensation entered your body—it was cool like water in a stream and swirled about the length of your shin. Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and you bobbed your leg, feeling for the pain—there’s no more pain. You shot him a surprised look and a smile paints on your face, he repaid it with a kind smile but his serious and urgent tone returned in an instant.

“Come with me and we’ll talk somewhere safe.”

You followed him across the ridge, evading the areas where there would be more Tusken Raiders patrolling the plains. The rocks acted as your cover. Along the way, Obi-Wan engaged in banter with you to rid any awkward air between the two of you.

“I suppose I should start asking for your name,”

“[y/n], Master,”

“And how did you get here?”

“You mean the planet or that trench pass?”

“Humor me on both,”

“Well, I came to this planet with a ship and a crew. They’re staying with the ship,”

“While you head out here all alone?”

“Uh, I chose to be alone,” you mumbled. “Anyway, I trekked all this way to come looking for you.”

“I suppose you can tick that off in your to-do list,”

You chuckled, “Yeah, I guess.”

The two of you went uphill until a small cottage was in sight. He invited you into his house and offered you a glass of blue milk. You didn’t realize that the thirst was overwhelming that you chugged the whole glass.

“Sorry, the heat just took its toll on me,”

“It is a rather unforgiving place. Now then,” he settled himself on a seat across you. “What’s a young Jedi like you doing in this desolate planet in search of a tired, aging hermit like me?”

You unslung the strap of your backpack, producing the Holocron out of your bag and holding it in front of him.

“This Holocron was originally Plo Koon’s,”

Obi-Wan mouthed the name while running his thumb across his beard.

“This contains a list of all the Force-sensitive children in the galaxy. If fallen into the wrong hands, these kids will be tools of the Inquisitors or the Empire—not that there’s much of a difference between the two, anyway.”

“Inquisitors?”

“Basically, they’re the hounds of the Empire, snuffing out the Jedi to destroy them. Aside from the typical Stormtroopers of course,”

Discovering that he has missed out on much of the Empire’s workings, you became his window to the outside world. It has been years since he’s exiled himself here in Tatooine with barely any connection beyond the planet. You narrated everything that’s transpired—not just the events revolving around you and Cal, but for everyone else in the galaxy: the partisans in Kashyyyk and the violent occupation at Zeffo to name some.

“And how much destruction have they wrought?”

You shake your head, “Not sure, exactly. But all I can say is that the damage is irreparable.”

Eventually, you peppered in the story of Cal, how he turned into the Inquisitor, and that he’s after this particular Holocron. Without any more filler talk, you went right into your true reason why you sought Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Hermit or not, you’re still a Jedi—whether you were or are, it doesn’t matter. I still believe it’s safer with you than it is with me. You won’t even come across the Inquisitors’ minds. I doubt it.”

“Well, [y/n], that does sound reassuring,” you couldn’t decipher if he’s serious or sarcastic with that remark.

He stands up to take the Holocron from your hands. He activated it and the relic emitted the luminous projection from its shell, his eyes trailed left and right, reading the children’s names and planets. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t read—unsure if it’s a look of resignation, obligation, or hopelessness. Then his eyes lit up, a secretive curl in his lip hid behind the scruff of his beard.

“I believe that he can keep it safe, but I will reveal it to him once it is time,”

Your eyes furrowed, “Who’s he?”

He lifted the lid of a box with a silver hilt resting inside, the Holocron eventually joined the weapon in the container.

“Our only hope.”

For the whole conversation, that was the most enigmatic answer you’ve heard from Obi-Wan Kenobi. You don’t believe that it’s the heat that’s gotten into his head. You truly believe that there was some meaning to his words, even though you’re not sure what to comprehend from that.