#ive decided to stop being a coward and post my au's

[bobus]

pif httyd au doodle :P

[peaches-writes]

bibingka

skz of christmas day 6: rice cakes with changbin

member: changbin  wc: 1.9k genre: fluff, comedy, slight idiots to lovers au, neighbour au, this is actually a binsung fic jk warning: explicit language  note: obligatory ben&ben christmas post duh + connects to the jisung entry + issa bit rushed just bc ive been busy da whole week im so sorry hnnnnnnng

day 3

Even with Changbin’s deadliest glare almost burning holes on his face and a stomach cramp threatening to explode on his lower half, Jisung wouldn’t stop laughing. In fact, other passersby are starting to momentarily look their way because of his cackles echoing as loud as the church bells tolling for the next mass.

“I fucking hate you.” The boy being ridiculed rolls his eyes and punches the younger boy on the arm. “Shut up.”

“I just—“ Jisung seemingly wipes away a tear in between his non-stop giggles, clutching his stomach again after as he slows his breathing down. “You’re such a—you’re such a wimp and it’s like the third year now!” 

Changbin wants to correct him by saying that it’s only the second but ultimately decides against it to avoid feeding the mocking laughter. “I’m not! I was just trying to be respectful!”

“Seo Changbin, you’ve been neighbors with Y/N since who the fuck knows how long. If anything, not holding their hand during the Lord’s Prayer is actually rude and disrespectful.” Jisung scoffs. “Like look, I scored a date with my neighbor yesterday and they’re only here during the holidays. Where’s your progress?” 

The last comment deepens Changbin’s glare and disapproving frown. “Well, what if—what if they didn’t want to? Not everyone likes holding non-family members’ hands during that prayer. And excuse you, you landed that date from stalking me.”

Jisung comically slaps his hand up to his temples this time, exhaling a very deep breath in amusement before shaking his head in disapproval. “Oh, Binnie, until when are you going to keep telling these things to yourself? Y/N literally had their hand up for you a while back! Just hold them for a minute!”

“Yeah, but—“

Before Changbin could fully refute, however, the two boys then see you pass by with your grandmother, a passing smile gracing your features as you wave at them politely with your free hand. “Good morning, you two!” You briefly greet before shifting your attention back to your grandmother again, your gaze lingering to Changbin for a second longer definitely not going unnoticed by a grinning Jisung. 

“Good morning!” Changbin and Jisung return your sentiments, the latter then elbowing the older boy as soon as you turn away. 

“I’m telling you,” Jisung whispers tauntingly after, leaning his face close to Changbin and placing a hand over his ear. “just hold Y/N’s hand. It’s not that hard.” 

Taking one last look at you right before you’re whisked away to your grandmother’s friends, Changbin sighs and mumbles, “Oh no, Sung, you don’t know shit.” 

day 5

Every time Changbin does so much as glance in Jisung’s general direction at the choir area in the middle of the service, the younger boy would wink suggestively or make the most comical kissy faces and it doesn’t help his case at all. Somewhere in the back of Changbin’s head, he hesitantly thanks whatever driving force there is in this universe that you’re mostly occupied with looking after your grandmother and passing the time with mindless gestures to notice.

“Just do it, man!” Jisung mouths to Changbin for what already seems to be the eighth time since the mass started, balancing his guitar on his lap to clasp his hands right in front of his face. “I got you!”

Changbin rolls his eyes before glancing over to you standing right next to him. To make things worse, the topic of holding your hand makes his attention wander over to the said body part that taps a noiseless beat on the pew in fromt of you. On your other side, your grandmother seems to have fallen asleep right after you made her sit down because of her weak knees.

Now would be the time, dumbass, The voice in Changbin’s head points out in a way that awfully resembles Jisung. Do it!

But when the familiar tune starts playing and your gentle tapping stops, Changbin’s quickly overcome with nervousness again.

The poor boy’s lifted knuckles knock against yours but fails to take your hand once more.

“Even Jesus can’t help this dude now.” Jisung sighs from across the church as he watches the helpless scene unfold. “Ah, whatever.”

day 8

“Dude, come on it’s been eight days. Stop staring the rice cake down, it’s going to burn up!” Jisung scolds, clutching Changbin by his nearest bicep and pulling him away from the rice cake stall. “Come on, let’s re-group somewhere else!” 

“Re-group?” Changbin furrows his brows, letting himself get dragged to a nearby corner right underneath the outdoor display grotto anyway. “What for?” 

Jisung, skidding to a halt once he’s reached a spot far away from the usual crowd of church-goers, rolls his eyes and faces Changbin belatedly as he answers, “Because you’ve been looking like a whole dumbass at church for the third year in a row now and I swear even the priest is starting to get frustrated!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do!”

Changbin squints his eyes in annoyance now and crosses his arms in front of his chest, visibly unamused at the younger boy’s antics. “I’m...a respectful person.”

“You’re a coward.” Jisung argues back bluntly with a draamatic and disapproving shake of his head, taking ahold of Changbin’s two hands after and holding them up in between them. “Just hold their hand like this, chant the Lord’s prayer, and be done with it! We’re all friends, it’s cool!”

Changbin scoffs, wriggling his fingers out of Jisung’s death grip only to get caught immediately. “You don’t understand, dude.” He sighs in exasperation, frowning even more in annoyance when Jisung makes a judging face at him with pursed lips. “It’s Y/N.”

“Exactly, it’s just Y/N.” Jisung retorts in a gradually patronizing tone, making sure to drag out his words. “It’s not like you’re obligated to get married if you hold their hand! Heck, even the kids who sit two rows behind you are braver and those two are just making gang signs at each other during Mass.”

“I—“

And, as if it’s the way of the universe siding wholeheartedly with Jisung, Changbin hears you stifle a giggle with your hand from behind him. When the flustered boy turns around, he sees you and your grandma approaching with candles to offer to the grotto’s statues.

“Shit.” Changbin curses under his breath, quickly hiding it with a greeting to you and your grandmother. “Good morning, Mrs. Y/L/N! Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, grandma! Hi, H/N!” Jisung waves with his hands still intertwined with Changbin’s, making the latter blush even more as he quickly lets go. “Ooh, scented candles! Are you guys out here to pray for wishes?”

You nod with a hum, pursing your lips quickly at seeing Changbin pretend to wipe his hands down the sides of his jeans. “Yeah, just the usual year-ender stuff.” You explain, helping your grandma up to the stone steps leading to the religious status. Glancing over the two as your grandmother goes ahead on her own, you then ask, “Were you guys in the middle of...something?”

“W-What? N-No, no! We were just...” Mentally, Changbin’s cognition is already shutting down under your genuinely curious gaze. It doesn’t help that you’re a step above him and Jisung too, giving you a rare opportunity to tower over them. “Jisung was just being weird!”

“No, I wasn’t!”

“Dude, you just held my hand out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, to tell you that—mmfffff!” Changbin interrupte Jisung midway by clamping his mouth shut and making you chuckle.

“Okay, if you say so...” You finally let out a laugh with ease at seeing their antics, waving goodbye once more and taking another step upwards again. “I’ll just see you two around later! Grandma and I still need to say some prayers for our relatives.”

“Sure. See you around, Y/N.” Changbin smiles up at you, returning your wave with his free hand.

Behind his other hand, Jisung tries his best at yelling out to you, “Pray for Changbin, please! For everyone’s sake!”

day 9

The first thing Jisung notices—well, the second thing since he noticed your rather sleepy expression prior—is how you walk in and sit down next to Changbin at your usual pew without your grandmother. Changbin, on the other hand, notices rather belatedly when he notices you only when you’re already seated.

“Where’s grandma?” He asks, whipping his head around everywhere for your grandmother’s familiar grey hair and white church veil. “Is she okay?”

“She just stayed up too late for a Christmas party last night so I told her I’ll go to mass for her while she rests.” You nod reassuringly, only at such point fully comprehending the unfamiliar atmosphere of only the two of you sitting on your usual place. “She’ll be around again tomorrow but, you know, as far as the legend goes, she won’t be able to make a wish on Christmas Eve.” 

Changbin chuckles at this, leaning back in his seat more comfortably now as you giggle along. “You still believe in that? We all know that parents only say that so we wouldn’t sleep at Mass when we were kids.” 

When the boy glances over to you, he sees you nod in between laughs. “Yeah but don’t you think it’s something nice to think about and believe in? Don’t you make wishes after the ninth Mass anymore?” 

“It depends.” He shrugs. 

“Then why do you still go, hm? Your parents don’t even come around as often.” 

To see you, Changbin’s mind immediately drifts off but he bites his tongue back quickly before he could accidentally blurt it out. “I just like hearing the choir sing in the morning.” 

“I doubt that.” You chuckle with a shake of your head, just as the choir begins to sing the opening song. “Speaking of which...” 

Changbin whips his head around in the same direction you avert your gaze to, finding the Mass already starting. “Oh, it’s starting.” He muses out loud, following the crowd and standing up. When he turns to you again, however, you’re still seated. “Aren’t you standing up?” 

“Will you help me up?” You ask rather teasingly, holding your hand up to him. 

“What?” His eyes widen, blinking twice slowly until he’s sure that your hands not moving back down to your side. 

“Changbin, just hold my damn hand.” You hiss under the loud music, waving your hand in the air until he finally and reluctantly takes it and pulls you up. “There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Changbin is quick to blush under the bright lights around you, fumbling around his words and even more when you don’t let go of his hand. “I—y-ya, you’ve known all this time?”   

In response, you simply shrug as you bring your hands down in between the two of you. “Maybe? Why do you think I’ve been making grandma sit here and not at the front as usual?” You explain sheepishly. “I was hoping, since we know each other and everything anyway, you’d...hold my hand at prayer. It’s silly, I know.”

“So you—” 

“I like you, Changbin.” You beat him right to it, clearing your throat immediately to ease the atmosphere. “I just...hold my hand at prayer, will you? If it isn’t weird or anything.” 

“S-Sure.” He awkwardly nods, looking away to hide an embarrassed smile. “I-I like you too.” 

Across the room, Jisung almost jumps up in his seat while playing the guitar and elbows his significant other rather harshly as they play the piano. “Ya, dude, it’s happened! Look!” 

The pianist hisses in pain at Jisung’s elbow on their sides before mustering up a chuckle once they’ve regained composure. “That’s good to see. Now, how many days will it take for him to buy the rice cake?” 

december 22 (lee minho)

skz of christmas (masterlist)

m.list

@skzwriternet

[blue-mint-winter]

SW prompts -- I enjoyed very much your twisted Daala and Kyp thing. So perhaps more of that? Or generally something with Daala being not incompetent for once would be nice.

After so long, I finished this story! Thanks for the prompt!

FFnet link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12777283/1/Night-on-the-Knight-Hammer

Summary: AU of Darksaber. Kyp is captured by Daala’s forces again.

It’s long and contains torture and other dark stuff, so I put it under the read more, if you prefer reading on tumblr. I can also post on ao3 if anyone requests it.

Night on the Knight Hammer

.

Even before his formal training, Kyp Durron followed his instincts, the subtle nudges that saved his life countless of times in the mines of Kessel. After he became a Jedi, he heard Master Luke always saying to trust in the Force. Kyp felt and believed that the Force had some destiny in mind for him, so it was only natural that he followed its call.

Now it led him and his closest friend, Dorsk 81, into the Deep Core systems. Rumours were floating around about the Empire mustering its forces and preparing another attack and as the Jedi, they had to get to the bottom of this.

That’s how they found the nexus station where the Imperial troops gathered. Kyp and Dorsk 81 blended in the crowd at a rally to gain more information on the enemy’s plans before they returned to the New Republic with the warning. At least that was the plan before the one behind the attack was revealed.

Kyp saw that angular, cruel face multiplied around him on the vidscreens, the face that still haunted him at night, and then he saw red. Admiral Daala couldn’t possibly be alive!

But, against all odds, there she was—standing proud, looking over her cheering troops as she delivered the speech that declared the New Republic’s imminent destruction at her hands.

Kyp couldn’t take it. He shouted—out of disbelief, shock, and sheer revulsion—and drawn attention to himself and Dorsk 81. The stormtroopers swarmed the two Jedi, who tried to run, but soon their path to the docking bay was cut off. Kyp slashed around madly, causing carnage among his enemies.

“Run! I’ll hold them off!” he yelled to Dorsk.

“Kyp, I can’t leave you behind!” his friend protested.

Kyp used a Force push to clear the way. “Go! You have to warn the Academy!”

Dorsk reluctantly ran off. Kyp stayed behind to prevent the stormtroopers from going after his friend. He grinned ferociously and used the tip of his lightsaber to make a circle around himself, keeping the enemies at bay.

“Come on! Bring it on!” he challenged them.

They didn’t charge at him. The Force warned him about an incoming attack and he turned around to block it, but instead of a blaster bolt, he was caught in a net. He cut through it, but more came at him, binding his limbs. He trashed like a fish out of water, trying to free himself, then he felt a prick on his neck. Tranquilizer! He realized as his body became sluggish and unresponsive and he fell unconscious.

The stormtroopers quickly took his weapons and commlink. They slapped the binders on his wrists and ankles and gagged him. One could never be too cautious with those crafty Jedi.

“The Jedi was taken into the custody, Admiral,” the Sergeant reported.

“Good. Bring him to me,” Daala replied. She changed the channel on her comm. “This is Admiral Daala to all the ships—catch the other Jedi! I don’t want him to leave this system. Shoot him down if you have to, just don’t let him leave! Daala out.”

Her attention was drawn to the group of stormtroopers carrying the prisoner towards her. Daala easily recognized the boy who had once gotten away from her. A full-blown smirk appeared on her face. It seemed the fate was in her favour today. She wouldn’t have to pick through the ashes of Yavin IV to find his remains. Instead, she would exact her revenge on him at her own leisure.

Daala licked her lips and ordered the young Jedi to be shuttled on board her Super Star Destroyer, recently rechristened as the Knight Hammer.

.

A boot in the gut revived him instantly.

Kyp groaned and reflexively tried to curl up, but the tight restraints didn’t allow him to. He opened his eyes, disoriented, and saw the ceiling of the Imperial holding cell.

Must be a bad dream, he thought groggily.

Another heavy stomp to his stomach had him gasping for air. The pain took away his ability to think for a short while as he fought through it. He was going to have a big bruise there, but at the moment that was the least of his worries.

“I assure you all of this is real, Jedi. Or would you like my men to kick you again?”

The sound of that woman’s voice had a better sobering effect than a thousand kicks. Kyp whipped his head to the right. Daala was standing there flanked by two stormtroopers, her lips crooked in a cruel amusement as she gazed at her helpless prisoner.

“You,” he ground out with loathing.

“That’s admiral Daala to you, Jedi scum,” a stormtrooper said and made to kick him again, but Daala raised a hand to stop him.

“It’s fine. We know each other,” she said. “Don’t we, Kyp?”

Hearing her say his first name so familiarly filled him with disgust which in turn made him angry.

“You tortured me!” he spat out. Daala quirked an eyebrow.

“It was only questioning. Believe me, you haven’t seen any real torture… yet.”

Kyp gave her a scorching glare as he simmered in his rage.

“How are you even still alive?” he asked sourly.

“I could ask you the same,” Daala neatly deflected. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I have you in my hands now.” And that she decided about his life and death went without saying.

“When’s the execution?” Kyp cut to the chase. “You can ‘question’ me all you want, I won’t tell you anything, so you might as well stop wasting both of our time.”

Daala put a cold hand on his cheek and stroked his skin lightly. Like he was a fucking house pet. “Don’t be so sure of yourself. There are many other methods of… persuasion,” she said silkily as her thumb rubbed at his lower lip.

Kyp glared but she held his gaze easily, showing that she wasn’t scared. After a long moment, she deliberately stepped away.

“Get him up,” she signaled to her troopers. “We’re going for a walk.”

The Jedi couldn’t quite bite back a groan of pain as he was forcefully stood up. He was frogmarched out of the cell into the stark corridors of a star destroyer.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked when he recognized they actually left the cell block. He turned his head back to see Daala who was right behind him, but the trooper on his left ‘corrected’ his posture with a smack.

“No moving,” the guard warned.

“Walking is moving!” Kyp protested.

A hard hit on the ribs was the answer.

“No talking back.”

Kyp kept silent, having learned his lesson.

The ride on the turbolift was uncomfortable. The space was too small and Daala breathed down his neck. Kyp tried to inch away from her, but quickly gave up when the guards noticed. He definitely didn’t want to get punched for nothing. He was smarter than that!

He could have attempted meditation, however a hand on his back deprived him of all the serenity he could muster and replaced it with a growing dread. His heart thudded in his chest as the hand slid down along his spine teasingly. It stopped at his lower back and his fervently hoped this was the end and she only meant to scare him… but then the hand moved down and pinched hard. Kyp yelped in surprise.

“Quiet!” the stormtrooper barked at him.

Kyp nodded, wide-eyed as the hand felt him up, grabbed and squeezed aggressively until the turbolift stopped the ascent and the door opened.

They arrived on the bridge.

Daala smoothly passed by him and took the lead. Kyp knew he didn’t imagine that smug smirk on her face.

“Admiral,” the captain greeted her.

“At ease,” she said and gestured for the guards to bring Kyp closer.

They were at a viewport overlooking a green-blue globe with a very familiar shapes of landmasses.

“Do you recognize this planet?” she asked.

Kyp swallowed thickly.

“No, not really.”

Daala gave a signal to the guards and one of them swiftly hit him while the other kept him upright.

“Even if you weren’t lying, it would interest you that we tracked your Jedi friend’s ship here.”

Kyp didn’t take the bait and stayed resolutely silent, focused on breathing evenly as he managed the pain in his center.

“Khomm… Such a pathetic little planet, full of pacifists and cowards. What would a Jedi need there?” Daala tapped her chin in a mock-consideration.

If Dorsk 81 is on the planet, he can hide. Stormtroopers won’t be able to tell him apart from the other Khommites, Kyp thought hopefully as he reached out in the Force to his friend. He got a vague blip of a presence but it was enough to fill him with relief. As long as Dorsk 81 was free, he could send the message to the Academy and the New Republic military.

“You won’t find him,” Kyp said with renewed confidence.

Daala’s eyes lit up, like she was just waiting for this moment. “Give me the mayor,” she ordered the comm specialist on the bridge.

The screen was turned on, showing the face of Kaell 116, the political leader of the Khomm capital.

“Admiral,” he said with a respectful bow.

“Did you find the criminal?” she asked immediately. Of course she wouldn’t be interested in exchanging pleasantries with those beneath her.

The Khommite didn’t look happy about the small snub, but wisely didn’t react. “Yes, he is transferred into the hands of your men as we speak.”

Kyp couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Khomm willingly collaborated with the Empire! They gave up one of their own, their only pride, just like that?

“You traitor!” Kyp blurted out with utter disgust.

“We’re merely protecting ourselves from outside interference in our way of life, Jedi Durron,” Kaell 116 rebuked the accusations stoically. “Our planet is neutral in galactic conflicts, so we’d like your fleet to leave as soon as our business is concluded,” he addressed Daala, who gave a short nod.

“Oh, we will leave as soon as possible, Mayor, you can rest assured.”

“Then thank you, Admiral, and good day to you.” Kaell 116 gave another bow and the transmission ended.

Daala looked at Kyp with gloating. “You were saying?” she asked and he just glared at her darkly. She won this round.

The admiral pivoted on her heel and marched smartly to the command chair, arms behind her ramrod straight back. The catwalk in the center of the Star Destroyer’s bridge must have been built for the sole purpose of the Imperial command taking walks above the heads of their officers and basking in the sense of power granted by the elevation. Daala certainly took full advantage of the ship’s architecture to exert her complete authority.

She sat in the command chair and crossed her legs. Her boots were polished to the highest shine, which could have blinded Kyp when he was brought by the guards to stand next to her.

Why didn’t she send him to his cell? Staying there in silence, surrounded by his enemies, the young Jedi swallowed down the rising uneasiness. He touched the Force, but it only carried a vague sense of threat. His connection was only tenuous after the beating he had received and he suspected they might have drugged him to dull his extra sense.

Finally, a comm officer turned around. “M'am, the shuttle with the prisoner has docked. He is unconscious.”

“Very well. Put him in the brig. I will deal with him later.”

“Yes, m'am.”

Daala caught Kyp’s stare and smirked knowingly. He was hanging onto her every word and while he was unsure of what she was planning, except knowing that it had to be nothing good, he was relieved to hear his friend was alive.

“Now then,” Daala said in a pleasant, light tone that gave Kyp chills. His bad feelings intensified and the Force swirled in foreboding.

Daala stood up fluidly and activated the comm.

“To the Imperial fleet: this is Admiral Daala speaking. Our time of revenge has come. The weak New Republic and its pathetic allies won’t be able to stop our march of fire and blood as we retake the stolen territories and return them to the Empire. This is the place of the first strike, the first victory. Prepare to commence the orbital bombardment. Target: Khomm.”

“No!” Kyp jolted forward, but the guard’s strong grip restrained him. “You said you’d spare them! You can’t do this!” He would have said more but two merciless punches took out his ability to talk. He sagged in the crushing hold of his captors.

Daala gripped his chin and made him look up at her. “You have no idea what I can do, Jedi. But you will learn,” she spoke with a dark promise in her tone, then let him go.

Kyp glared a hole in her back. “Imperial… liar…” he wheezed out.

She turned to him, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I didn’t lie. I just never said we’ll leave after destroying the planet,” Daala corrected him. “Besides, isn’t this something you would do? I know how you treat your enemies.”

Kyp bristled in outrage. “I’m not a sadistic monster like you,” he spat out.

“Tell that to Carida.”

The words lashed him like a whip to the face. Kyp broke the eye contact and folded in himself.

“It was different,” he said stubbornly.

“You mean more destructive? Causing the star to go supernova was a bit of an overkill, but all in all it was an effective measure. You wiped them all out in one hit. Aren’t you a good little Jedi?” Daala patted him on the shoulder in mock congratulations.

“Khomm doesn’t have any military defenses. They aren’t a threat to you. You don’t have any reason to destroy it, just your own desire to kill,” Kyp accused, finally looking up.

“They are a bunch of cowards and backstabbers. They didn’t even blink when they sold out one of their own. I have no doubt they would do the same to me as soon as the fleet makes the jump. And I will not risk this whole military campaign by showing something as useless and dangerous as mercy.” She said the last word with a contemptuous sneer.

“Admiral, the fleet is ready to fire,” her aide informed.

Daala nodded. “To all ships: fire on my command.”

Kyp cast a desperate look to the green planet visible out of the viewport and grasped at the Force, but he was too weak. The harder he tried, the easier it slipped from his grasp.

“On my count: three, two, one, fire!” Daala gave the order and the turbolasers of every ship in the fleet answered her call. Kyp watched helplessly as the deadly beams pierced the atmosphere and rained on the planet’s surface.

Khomm burned beneath his feet and he could do nothing to stop the carnage. Kyp could only look down with his fists clenched so hard he was bleeding. He felt the tremors of the thousands of deaths tear through the Force as he bore a silent witness to the massacre. It was different than Carida—there had been only a short while of panic, the heightened sense of fear among the Imperials, then a flash and a terrible silence. Here the screams of pain, fear and confusion never stopped echoing in the Force. Every second, Kyp heard new voices as the kill count grew.

His vision blurred and he realized he was crying. But these were the tears of anger, of frustration. He failed as a Jedi and as a sentient being. Khomm was on his conscience just as much as Carida. If he’d only been more careful, he wouldn’t have been caught, wouldn’t have alarmed the Imperials to his presence at the rally. Then they wouldn’t have followed Dorsk 81 to Khomm. The planet was attacked because of Kyp’s incompetence, because he didn’t learn serenity and when he’d seen Daala, he hadn’t contained his reaction like a Jedi should have done.

“M'am, the infrastructure of Khomm is destroyed in 82%,” the aide spoke.

“Can they send a hyperspace transmission?” Daala asked. She tapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair as the officer checked in the data stream from the sensors.

“No, m'am, all the centers capable of the off-world communication were annihilated.”

“What about ships, do they have any they can send with a message?”

“We destroyed the cosmoport. The inhabitants didn’t travel much outside of the system and all the ships equipped with a hyperdrive were registered and assigned a spot in the hangars. They should be under the rubble and if any can be repaired, it would take months.”

“Good.” Daala received the report with a pleased nod. “Stop the fire. Let’s save the energy for worthier opponents,” she commanded.

“Oh, so next time you’ll attack a kindergarten?” Kyp asked loudly.

The whole bridge stilled in silence, gaping at the Jedi and his audacity. But he was beyond caring. He might be called suicidal but he just no longer cared. He glared at the admiral fiercely and caught a twitch of annoyance on her stony face. It was gone in a flash, but he still basked in the immense satisfaction at causing it.

Then Daala threw back her head and laughed. It wasn’t forced, just an outburst of pure amusement at his expense and what was worse, he had no idea what she found so funny. It was Daala, after all.

A creeping worry came over Kyp and stripped him of his short-lived bravery.

“As a matter of fact, yes, this is exactly what I am going to do, little Jedi,” Daala finally told him. “I will attack the kindergarten you came from. The Jedi Academy on Yavin 4. And you will watch it burn just like you watched Khomm.”

The horror shone in his eyes and filled her with a sadistic delight. She gestured to the guards.

“Escort the prisoner back to his cell.”

Kyp didn’t struggle when the stormtroopers pulled him to the exit. They retraced the path from the bridge to the jail area, then threw him inside his cell. Kyp stumbled and didn’t catch his balance because of the stuncuffs. He fell face-first on the floor. The door hissed shut behind him, plunging him into the familiar darkness.

The young Jedi rolled on his back and sat up. He felt around for the wall, scooted closer and leaned against it, pressing his throbbing temple to the cold panels for relief. He was sapped of energy, physically and mentally, but too afraid to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, the images of Khomm’s destruction haunted him. He still heard the pain in the Force, tasted the copper of blood and bitterness of ashes left by Daala’s rampage. The sensations were even stronger now…

It took Kyp an unknown amount of time (in the dark-shrouded cell it lost its meaning anyway) to realize what this meant. The Jedi let out a surprised soft gasp, then smiled and stretched his thoughts in the Force. It felt more tangible, even if his hold was tenuous and clumsy. He used it to search for Dorsk 81 and to his relief he detected the sleeping presence of his friend nearby. He nudged it, but it remained placid, so he concluded that Dorsk 81 was most likely heavily medicated. On the other hand this meant the other Jedi was still unharmed.

With a renewed hope Kyp put his concentration on the binders.

After a few failed attempts, he slumped over. He was still too weak to open them. But he got nothing else to do, so after a period of rest he went back to trying.

The door hissed open and Kyp shielded his eyes from the bright light that spilled into the cell from the hallway. He heard a droid buzzing. A cold shudder went through him.

“No! Stay away!” he shouted, scrambling back as the Imperial interrogation droid floated closer to him. It was a black ball, just like the one they used on him when he’d been captured in the Maw and, according to Daala, 'questioned’ him. He remembered the injections, electroshocks and the paralyzing pain in every part of his body like nothing he’d ever experienced…

“Get away from me!” Kyp screamed and kicked out at the droid when his back touched another wall. He was backed into the corner, with no way to escape.

The droid clicked menacingly as it dodged the blow, then flew even closer, extending an arm with a needle. Kyp was afraid if he punched at it again, it would not hesitate to jab him with whatever drug it had there. Instead, he reached for the Force desperately. If he managed to shove the droid hard enough, it could get destroyed. Force push was so much easier than taking off the binders, it didn’t need any precision, it could work if he just concentrated…

As he thought that, the droid emitted a high-pitched sound that stunned him for a few precious seconds. Kyp saw the needle coming for his neck, felt the prick on his skin…

Then there was only an excruciating pain.

Something soft was pushed into his mouth and muffled his howling. He barely noticed the stormtroopers grabbing him by the arms and dragging him out of the cell. Everything became a blur of light and dark and the neverending hallways, but above that was always the pulsing, unrelenting agony.

At some point he must have passed out, because a torrent of icy water woke him up. He coughed and sputtered, shivering as the coldness soaked him to the bone. Kyp was bound to a chair in a dark room. The only lamp inside shone right into his face.

“Too bright,” he croaked and licked his lips. His throat was parched.

“Good. We’re not here to make you comfortable, Kyp. By the way, how are you feeling? Any pain?”

Kyp focused and realized that the pain was gone. “Just thirsty.”

“Let me get you some water.”

There was a sound of turning a tap and pouring water into a cup for a few seconds, then footsteps getting closer.

“Here, drink.” The cup was pressed to his mouth.

Kyp opened his lips, but before he could get a sip, the cup was taken away.

“Sorry, changed my mind. I can’t make you too comfortable.”

“Give me my water,” Kyp growled. The guy was playing games with him and it was pissing him off.

“Your water? You must mean the Empire’s water. My water. Nothing here is yours, Jedi scum,” the man sneered. Then his voice turned contemplative. “But, I suppose this water could be yours. A trade. What will you give for it?”

Now Kyp understood his angle. “How about my undying gratitude?” he tried sarcasm.

A hard slap was his reward. “Wrong answer. Where is Luke Skywalker?”

The question surprised the young Jedi. They wanted his master?

“You’ll never beat him,” Kyp said confidently.

“If you’re so sure, then no harm in telling us and getting the water.”

Kyp considered for a moment, but he was distracted by a loud gulping.

“Aaahh, this was refreshing! You sure you don’t want to drink? I think I’m going to get another cup.”

The sound of water so close by, but still outside of his reach, was maddening. Kyp’s throat was as dry as a sandpaper and with every second the Imperial’s suggestion sounded more logical. Really what was the harm in telling something insignificant if it could get him something he needed to survive? Even Master Luke would understand, he was from a desert planet, so he knew the importance of water.

“He’s travelling, I don’t know where.”

“Interesting,” the Imperial said, but didn’t come with the water.

“Hey, I told you!” Kyp raised his voice in frustration and it made him erupt into a fit of dry coughing.

“You didn’t tell me anything, so you don’t get anything.” The interrogator’s boots scuffed the floor as he walked up to Kyp. “The question is: where is Luke Skywalker?” he whispered into Kyp’s ear.

“I don’t know! He was going to different places!”

“Where? Try to remember. You can do it. Where did he go?” the man encouraged him.

“I think… Dagobah. It was days ago.”

“And then he will return to Yavin 4?”

“No… he was going to more places strong with the Force, but he didn’t say where.”

“Come on, where do you think he would go? Think.”

Kyp thought. His head felt warm and fuzzy, but he thought.

“He had a vision on Hoth once. He told us.”

“Dagobah, Hoth… where else would he go?”

“I don’t know. Byss maybe? There aren’t many places like that. Please, just give me the water. I really don’t know anymore.” Kyp pleaded with a scratchy voice and coughed. He tried to swallow, but it was painful because he had no saliva in his mouth.

“Alright, you earned your drink. Bottoms up!”

Finally, finally the cup was pressed to his mouth. Kyp greedily took a huge swallow of the drink. The warm wetness slid down his throat turning it into a burning inferno. Kyp spluttered and spat it out.

“What is this?!” Kyp cried out.

The liquid left a bitter and salty aftertaste in his mouth. It was simply disgusting.

The man burst out laughing. “I told you, this is my water.” The amusement in his voice was driving Kyp crazy.

“It’s not water!”

“It was when I first drank it.”

“What do you-” Kyp cut himself off as the realization finally dawned on him. The bile rose to his throat and he swallowed painfully. “Oh, kriff no… You’re sick!”

The officer didn’t take offense this time. He seemed downright cheerful, in a sadistic sort of way.

“Want to finish it? You won’t get any real water… unless you talk.”

After that the interrogation continued, but Kyp learned his lesson. He fell once for the Imperial’s games and he’d be damned if it happened again. He didn’t trust himself to speak, the risk of something slipping out was too great, so he chose to clamp his mouth shut. He ignored the insistent questions as he tried to connect with the Force and gain strength from it despite the punishing blows he received. Not even the interrogation droid got anything but screams from him as it put him through all kinds of excruciating, inhuman pain known to humans.

Kyp steadfastly refused to speak.

He didn’t know how long he was tortured. He almost passed out a few times, but the interrogation droid wouldn’t allow it, jabbing him with stimulants whenever he started drifting away. The only brief moment of relief happened when the Imperial decided to move him out of the chair to a standing position.

At some point the lamp was turned away and he could see the room. It was drab and the furniture was bolted to the floor, so he wouldn’t have been able to throw it using the Force. The face of the Imperial was entirely unremarkable. He wouldn’t turn heads on the streets of any world. The only thing that set him apart was the sadistic glint in his mud-coloured eyes.

In the middle of yet another session the door was unexpectedly opened. Kyp looked up, hoping against hope, and for a second it seemed to him like a scene from a dream. It appeared as though his prayers were finally answered and the powerful silhouette framed by the light in the doorway came to save him.

The officer turned around too. “What is this disruption? I am doing a delicate work here…” he began saying irately, then caught himself as he glimpsed the person that strode inside confidently. In the same moment Kyp recognized her too and his hope shriveled up and died.

“A-Admiral! Please forgive me, I-I didn’t expect,” the Imperial stammered in a fluster.

“I don’t expect you to have the ability to anticipate my comings and goings, Lieutenant.” Daala waved away his apologies. Genocide put her in a good mood.

“No, of course, m'am.”

“Bootlicker,” Kyp rasped.

“You speak only,” the man said deceptively calm as he came closer, “when you’re spoken to!”

The punch almost turned off the lights for Kyp, but he didn’t lose consciousness. His brain was rattled from the blow and his hearing resembled an old commstation with constant buzzing and losing signal for a while before it stabilized and he could listen to the conversation again.

“I need results, Lieutenant,” Daala said sternly.

“Admiral, this Jedi is very resistant, but with enough time I’m sure I can get him to talk.”

“Your methods are insufficient. There must be a change in our approach,” Daala mused as she took in the sight of the prisoner. He was standing, stripped down to his undergarments, the rest of his clothes laying around him in tatters. His arms were pulled taut upwards and chained to a durasteel bar in the ceiling. His ankles were also chained to the floor. The middle of his body was mottled with dark bruises, welts and cuts and his back wasn’t in any better condition as she found out when she circled him slowly.

Daala came to a stop right in front of the Jedi. Kyp returned her gaze.

“Admiral?” the lieutenant called.

Daala ignored him. Her hand turned Kyp’s face and she examined the black eye he now sported.

“Does it hurt?” she asked mildly, even though they both knew that she didn’t care about it.

“Not as much as the sight of your face.”

Kyp’s whispered insult met a retribution when Daala drove her sharp nails in his sore flesh. He hissed from the sting. She released him after a few seconds and returned her attention to her underling.

“Lieutenant, please remind me, did I tell you to hit the prisoner in the face?”

“No, m'am.”

“Then what were my orders?”

“… To hurt him only below the neck.”

“Are you not able to follow such simple instructions?” she asked scathingly.

The man gave a flurry of apologies and justifications, but she didn’t seem interested in hearing them. “No excuses. You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“If I may ask, who will continue the interrogation?” he dared to question, apparently worried about someone else getting his job and doing it better.

“None of your business,” Daala replied but she was looking at Kyp in appraisal. “Now get out.”

“Admiral,” the officer saluted and hurried out of the cell. He didn’t want to risk angering her any further.

“Finally alone, just the two of us,” she said to her prisoner. “Just like in the old times.”

Kyp grimaced at the reminder of his last stay in her cells. The expression pulled on his aching skin, so he stopped.

“Do you remember my offer from back then? It’s still open.” She slid her gaze down his stripped body, clad in nothing but underwear. It felt like she was touching him, sliding her mental fingers all over his skin. Kyp squirmed, wishing for clothes to hide him from her predatory gaze.

“And my answer is still no,” he said.

“I can change your mind. Teach you obedience,” she remarked with a smirk like she knew something that he didn’t and put a hand on his abdomen. He tried to back away from the touch, suck in his stomach, but she just pressed it a little harder. Her hand rested there like a brand. Then she stroked down to the hem of his underwear. Kyp tensed, dreading what she would do next. Daala looked at him piercingly. His fear spurned her on.

“I remember what you liked,” she said and moved her hand lower, cupping him possessively.

“No! Stop it!” Kyp cried out, thrashing in his shackles, not caring how much it hurt, as long as it would get her hand off him. But instead she grabbed him by the balls so hard that he yelped like a beaten dog and stopped struggling. He was panting harshly, tearful eyes wide with fear as he was aware of her crushing grip.

Daala leaned in. “Last chance. Surrender to me.”

Kyp gulped. “No,” he said, holding his ground, but only because letting her win was ten times more terrifying than any other fate she’d come up with for him.

“Then you will suffer,” she sneered and twisted her hand.

Kyp yowled in pain as he saw dark spots. His body tried to instinctively fold in and protect itself, but the restraints didn’t let it. Even after Daala let go, the pain stayed and even intensified for a while before it began to dull. His eyes were stinging with tears as he looked at her in defiance.

“You can torture me… all you want, Daala… but you won’t get anything from me,” he said.

“I have other means of persuasion, Kyp.” Daala clicked on her commlink. “Bring in the other prisoner.”

Kyp’s heart dropped.

The stormtroopers dragged Dorsk 81 into the cell. He looked like he went through hell, his face was covered in dried blood from the huge cut in his forehead. He was limping on his right leg. They strapped him to the same chair Kyp had woken in.

Daala paced before her prisoners, assessing them. They were both softened up by now. They might claim they could resist her forever, but their spirit was already weakened.

She stood in front of them, Kyp to her right and Dorsk 81 to her left.

“The rules are simple. I will ask you questions and you will answer them truthfully. Disobedience will be punished.” She nodded at the two stormtroopers and they took places behind the prisoners. Kyp heard the buzzing and felt the current that made the hair on his back stand up. He could guess what would be done to him if he didn’t answer.

Kyp looked at Dorsk in desperation and saw him try to smile. He took strength from his friend. They were in this together and they wouldn’t say a word no matter what happened.

“First question is: how many Jedi are there?” Daala began the interrogation. The prisoners remained silent. “Durron, answer me,” she ordered. Kyp didn’t reply.

“I see you are eager for your punishment. Shock him.” Kyp tensed in preparation of another dose of pain but to his horror Daala pointed to her left.

“No!” A surprised scream tore out of Kyp’s throat when the electricity surged through Dorsk 81’s body. He watched as his friend screamed himself raw, overtaken by mad convulsions. Dorsk 81 was like a puppet on a string, contorting unnaturally depending on the whim of his torturer.

Kyp glared fiercely at Daala. “Stop it! I didn’t answer, not him!” he shouted in anger.

“And he’s paying for your disobedience,” she replied.

After a few more seconds she gave a sign and the electricity stopped and fizzled out. Dorsk 81 slumped forward as if his strings were cut. If not for his harsh, nasal breathing, Kyp would have thought the worst.

“That was just a little demonstration. A few more shocks like that and he will die,” Daala explained. “Now talk.”

It was more than clear that she would be glad to administer the shocks herself if Kyp didn’t comply. And yet, he couldn’t just break his loyalty to the rest of the Jedi. He found himself trapped between two terrible choices and no way out. Despair settled over him.

“Well?” Daala prompted.

Kyp slowly opened his mouth.

“Don’t! Don’t… tell her…” Dorsk 81 suddenly rasped.

“But you’re hurt! You’d die!” Kyp protested.

“Don’t worry… I can take it…” Dorsk 81 raised his head slightly and attempted a crooked smile.

“Let’s test that theory,” Daala interrupted. She nodded to the stormtrooper who activated the torture mechanism in the chair.

For ten seconds Kyp watched in horror as his friend was suffering unimaginable, cruel torture. He felt Dorsk 81’s pain through the Force, waves after waves of agony crashing into him and his own nerves responding in a sympathetic reaction. When it stopped, he was on the verge of tears.

“Dorsk 81!” he called out.

“I’m… fine…” his friend replied weakly, like it took all his strength to say so little.

Daala chuckled. “So deluded. You Jedi greatly overestimate your abilities. This is why you’ll get wiped out again.” She turned to Kyp. “Are you going to give me the information or do you prefer to watch your friend’s brain frying? I can do this all day long but I doubt the Khommite will survive it.”

The overwhelming helplessness threatened to overtake him. He destroyed so many people’s lives, killed his own brother. Letting his best friend die like this made less sense with every moment.

“No matter what you do here, the Jedi Academy will be destroyed. The only one you can save here is your friend here. Choose,” Daala pressed.

“No!… Kyp… trust… the Force…” Dorsk 81 said with difficulty.

Kyp reached out. The Force was shifting around him restlessly and slipping from his grasp like an eel. He realized there would be no miraculous rescue this time, no daring smuggler would bust the door open and let him out and no Jedi Master would hear his cries for help. He looked at his mangled, barely clinging to life best friend and swallowed thickly.

“Okay… I’ll tell you what you want, just don’t hurt him,” he said quietly.

“Kyp, no!” Dorsk 81 stared at him in disbelief and betrayal.

Kyp lowered his head in shame. “I’m… I’m sorry. I can’t let you die here.”

“Betraying the Jedi for a friend. How sweet,” Daala mocked.

Kyp didn’t have the strength to answer. Daala looked him over.

“Very well. If you lie, he dies.”

Kyp nodded sharply. He knew she would execute Dorsk 81 without hesitation.

“Start talking,” Daala ordered.

And to his eternal shame, Kyp broke for the second time under the Imperial interrogation and told her everything he knew.

At first, he grappled for words and stumbled over them a lot, but the longer he talked, the easier it became. Sometime during his interrogation, Dorsk 81 was carted away to a different cell because he was protesting too much. Kyp was glad—he couldn’t stand his best friend witnessing this.

Talking so much wasn’t good for his throat and he was wrecked by a dry cough.

“Can I… have some water?” he requested between coughing fits.

“You have to ask me properly,” Daala told him.

“Please, can I have some water, Admiral?” Kyp tried again.

She shook her head. The corner of her mouth turned up in a wicked way. “No, this is wrong. Repeat after me: Please, can I.”

“Please, can I,” Kyp said.

“A low, pathetic Jedi trash,” Daala said, watching him with cruel amusement. Kyp became red in the face, but repeated the insult obediently.

“Have some of the precious Imperial water.”

He had no problems with this part.

“Mistress Daala.”

His eyebrows shot up. She wanted him to call her 'mistress’?! Kyp couldn’t get out this word.

“Keep going, you were doing so well,” Daala encouraged him.

“I’m not calling you that,” he rasped.

“Too bad. Then I’m not letting you drink.” She smiled predatorily, showing him teeth. “And I should probably check in on the other Jedi.”

Kyp lurched in his bonds as he realized his mistake. “Wait! No, please, no!” When she didn’t react, he gave in to the desperation. “Mi… Mistress!”

Daala chuckled, enjoying his degradation. “Not so stubborn anymore.” She sidled up to him and ran a hand down his side. Kyp shuddered in revulsion, but didn’t protest. “So you can learn. That’s a start.” She was too close, looking him straight in the eye. He saw the craziness lurking behind the toxic green of her gaze. “I have a lot to teach you, Kyp,” she whispered, stroking along his jaw with a fingerpad.

Imagining what kind of depravity she would subject him to had Kyp wishing for his death, only the concern for Dorsk 81’s fate stopping him from doing anything reckless.

So instead, the broken young Jedi bowed his head in defeat. “Yes… Mistress.”

Daala smiled widely.